It all started the same as any other story, with a flash of light and an extraordinary sensation of hope.
Rebirth.
Slowly, the Awoken opened his eyes for the very first time for the second time in his existence, and reality came flooding into his mind. He looked down at his hands, and felt the newly formed tissue, bones and muscle all flow harmoniously together as one. He tested them, stretching them out as far as he could, and scrunching them back into fists. Even through the gloves that covered his pale cerulean skin, he could feel how his fingers so perfectly slotted together, and could even see, through the material how his knuckles rose and fell with each outstretched movement of his palm.
Then he heard it. That soft, angelic voice that instantly melted his newborn heart to tears of joy and turned his mind to cloud.
"Guardian...Guardian? Eyes up, Guardian."
The Awoken looked up to see what seemed like a glowing angel, hovering just in front of his eyes. It had the appearance of a small quadratical drone, and seemed to be simply constructed of pristine mechanical matter and machinery.
But, even as he looked upon the hovering chassis for the first time ever, he knew it to be more. For at the centre of its shape, within its bright, azure eye, the Awoken could see that this pure and radiant machine possessed a soul, and a spirit all its own.
"It worked... you're alive!" It spoke once more. The voice was unmistakably female, and there was no ignoring the sheer relief and joy in her tone. "You don't know how long I've been looking for you" she said, loudly sighing in relief.
"Wh-" the Awoken started, before the voice spoke again, with a very strong tone of eagerness lacing her speech.
"I'm a Ghost. Well actually now, I'm you're Ghost. And you..." she paused. "You've been dead, for a very long time." She awkwardly chuckled. "So, you're going to see a lot of things, that you won't understand."
Then, before anything more could be said between them, a distant roar echoed throughout the landscape. It sounded guttural and raucous, like a dozen sharp rocks being scraped against rough stone. And although it was clearly some distance away, the Awoken could tell that the creature from which the cry had originated from, would not be staying that way for long.
"This is Fallen territory. We aren't safe here." The Ghost looked back towards the direction of the roar, a visible state of distress upon her. "I have to get you to the City."
She then floated a few feet away, before then casting her gaze between the direction of the loud screech, and the enormous steel wall that encompassed the horizon to her right. For as far as the Awoken could see, it stood erect, towering over the surrounding wasteland of rusted ruin. The wall was about 300 feet tall, and although he didn't know exactly why it had been built, it had clearly been a long time ago, and in a great rush.
Slowly, the Awoken drew his attention back to the Ghost, who had now turned around to face him, her lambent turquoise eye fixed upon him. "Hold still" she stated, before hovering towards him with certain intent.
The Awoken went to say something again, until she suddenly vanished in a pallid mechanical fizz, disappearing from his view entirely.
Panic swarmed his mind, worry grappled against his consciousness as an insurmountable wave of isolation flooded his brain. The comfort and sense of peace that he had just had, vanished with the Ghost. But then, just as he feared that he might collapse in fear, a soothing voice penetrated the capsule of suffocating loneliness, like a ray of glorious light shining through the thick stormy clouds.
"Don't worry, I'm still with you." Ghost assured. It was strange, the Awoken thought, to hear speech through one's mind instead of one's ears. He found it comforting, though it came with an unnatural resounding echo. "We need to move, fast."
He went to say something again, but stopped himself, thinking now the wrong time. The Awoken stumbled forth, struggling to move his legs more than a few inches at a time. His tissue and newly formed muscle, though strong and welded they were, still felt strange and extrinsic when he placed all his weight upon them. His knees buckled beneath the pressure, and he would have fell, if it weren't for a nearby protruding branch.
"Careful!" he felt Ghost say, her calming, ataractic tone once again bringing clarity to his thoughts. "Don't put all your weight on your legs; they need to fully develop first." With another pixelated fizz, Ghost reemerged into view, and hovered gradually to the ground, stopping just in front of a large knotted stick. It was long, roughly about 5 feet, and was clearly made of a strong and sturdy wood.
"Take it." She said. "It will help you to walk, at least until your muscles mature enough." The Awoken bent over, releasing his hold on the branch and allowing his legs to fall to the ground. Then, taking the wooden shaft in his hands, clambered to his feet, the majority of his balance now entirely upon the oaken stave.
Then, gradually, and with great deliberation, the Awoken took his first step towards the great, rusted Wall before him. Within those walls, his first weapon, an old Russian rifle, would await him, and after that, his first fight. And after that, the manifold of fights that followed. For now, he was a Guardian. A warrior risen from the dead to defend the living, to protect the last City of humanity, and all that remained of the Light.
And that stave would carry him through many tedious battles, and across many harsh terrains, to the distant planets and deep space civilisations of the system, and to the insurmountable wastes and otherworldly realms beyond.
For he is a Guardian. His name is Thadramor. And this, is his legend.