Was just blown away by the game. Great writing, art, world...everything. Loved Aloy's growth. But who am I telling this to? If you're here, you probably know all this already!
This story begins after the main quest line, with Aloy finding Elisabet's body.
Elisabet Sobek's body lay facing the rising sun. Aloy found it fitting. Elisabet deserved the dawn. No one would have seen it without her. Only the endless horde of Faro robots would have greeted the cold light, as they slumbered upon a world stripped bare.
Elisabet sacrificed herself to deny that future, and in her death, she rested well, sharing the sunrise and the triumph of her victory with every living being. Once, Aloy had wished for Elisabet to be alive, to hold a conversation with the woman whose genetic core was a copy of her own, but she couldn't imagine a better end. Elisabet's final wish had been to go home, and she had made it there. This whole world ‒ this was her home.
The flowers around Elisabet's body grew in a triangle. Their shadows were long, lilac-colored petals covered in morning dew. A scent of lavender hung in the air, carried by faint brushes of wind.
Aloy came here in the mornings; it had turned into a sort of ritual for her. She would rise an hour before dawn and trek around the derelict Sobek farmstead, her mind lost among images of the past. Elisabet's journals allowed her to tie certain events to places, like the approximate location of the pine tree that she had burned down (long gone by now, of course) or the boulder where she'd scraped her knee to the bone when she was nine.
Inevitably, ten minutes before the first rays of sunlight breached the distant horizon, Aloy's feet would turn towards the flowerbed where Elisabet lay. She'd wander close and sit nearby, listening to the songs of the morning. When the light would break over the mountains, she'd close her eyes, allowing the sun's warmth to caress her skin, gentle, like a lover's touch.
When she rose, the glowing orb of the sun was fully above the snow-capped peaks. They shined, brilliant as diamonds. Aloy would squint at them, until spots of light danced in her eyes and she'd lower her gaze to give Elisabet one last look, before setting off for the day.
. . . .
Aloy came to the Sobek farm two weeks ago. Before that, a month of traveling had caused her to head east, away from the Sacred lands of the Nora tribe and down from the mountains, onto foothills that gave way to a flat plateau, which stretched off into the distance, as far as the eye could see. Aloy didn't miss the Nora. Once, she had looked up to them, resentful and bitter, yes, but still eager to prove her abilities to the braves and the wise-women, to show that she was just as good as them, that she deserved to be accepted. The Nora had seemed so knowledgeable before, pinnacles of the world.
Now, she saw the Nora for what they really were: a tiny ignorant tribe, locked in their lands and their minds by chains of rigid superstition. Living among them had turned impossible after overriding Hades. Few tribespeople would look her in the eye. Most bowed, singing hymns of praise at the feet of the one they had once cast out as a child. The one they had refused to talk or look at. It sickened her. They called her the Anointed now. The Chosen of a God.
Well, they didn't get that right! She wasn't theirs to anoint! She didn't belong to the Nora...or to anyone else, for that matter!
So, she left. Aloy slipped away in the night, going west first, towards Meridian. Erend had been happy to greet her there. The sun king, too, but then he had repeated his proposition, prompting waves of anger to tear through her chest.
To be by his side, Avad had asked, sitting on his throne of gold. Those were his words, but she saw his eyes, and they had demanded more.
There were women who'd have jumped at the offer of sharing the sun king's bed, of wearing the finest Karja silks and having hosts of subjects catering to every whim. Aloy desired none of that, and Avad knew that. He just didn't care. He wanted his Ersa back. But Ersa was dead, and Aloy was more than a suitable replacement. A substitute that had the potential to draw in more people under the sun king's rule in way Erend's sister never could have.
Avad realized his mistake too late ‒ after Aloy had stormed off. To his credit, he didn't send guards to bring her back. Not that it would have helped. She'd have run from Meridian in a heartbeat. Aloy hadn't seen or heard from Avad since.
Still, she spent a whole week in the city. Erend showed her the sights, many of which had been recently rebuilt. Despite the many signs of battle, the Karja capitol beat with life. Thousands of men and women, dressed in the garb of a dozen different tribes (from Nora to Banuk to Shadow Carja to outlanders from the south) strolled its stone-paved streets. Vendors cried their wares. Children ran unsupervised, snatching fruit from shop carts. The clang of metal echoed from Osseram workshops; their furnaces burned bright into the long hours of the night.
It was easy to relax here now. No killers hunted her; no monster-machines lurked in the dark. Instead, the atmosphere was festive. The nights could be spent talking and dancing, drinking. Erend introduced her to the infamous Osseram firewater, which burned the insides going in, only to settle with a joyous warmth, making the world simpler but somehow brighter. Maybe it's because people tend to overthink matters sometimes, Aloy thought.
The whole week, Erend had been by her side. Aloy didn't know where this could have led, if she had remained. Many women her age had already found a partner; among the tribes, girls were usually wed after their sixteenth spring, and Erend wasn't a bad candidate. But a week of carefree carousing had left her longing. There was a pull, tugging her away from the urban sprawl and into the vastness of the wilds. The city began to weigh on her shoulders, the noises grate on her ears. It was a sharp contrast to the Embrace, where the loudest sound was the roar of water cascading from steep mountain cliffs. Otherwise, her birthplace had been quiet, serene. It had been a good life there, with Rost.
But Rost was gone.
Aloy knew she had to visit his grave again. After that ‒ who knew? There were lands to explore, cauldrons to visit. GAIA could be repaired, Sylens had theorised. Maybe there was even a version of Apollo somewhere, hidden and ready to impart its secrets to those who asked. It was possible. The world was vast, after all. Aloy had seen it: a globe, projected by the machines of the Old Ones in the ruins of what was once called the USRC. The lands of the all the tribes she knew ‒ from the upper edge of Banuk territories in the north to the southernmost tip of the Nora Embrace ‒ was but a blip on that sphere. Elisabet's people had settled it all ‒ only to lose it because of the greed of one man.
When Aloy left Meridian, Erend had clapped his hand on her shoulder, wishing a well journey. "You need any help, you just send word," he'd said gruffly. "I'll come. You hear that, Aloy? Wherever you are, whatever you need, I'll be there. I mean it." He had blinked several times, quickly, and Aloy suddenly had to turn away, because her own vision had blurred.
Walking out of Meridian's gates, Aloy had looked back once, and the image of Erend waving goodbye was still burned into her mind, hot as coals under the midday Karja sun.
By the time she had returned to the Nora lands, to that little cottage where she and Rost had shared all the years of her childhood, Aloy knew her next destination. She wanted to find the woman who made her world possible. Elisabet's last words had been about going home. Aloy's focus had accessed maps of the Old Ones in the USRC. The Sobek farmstead was right there, among other locations that had held no meaning ‒ not anymore. After superimposing the old maps on new terrain, Aloy had a clear route to Elisabet's beginnings.
But before leaving for the Sobek farmstead, she spent several days in Rost's cottage. The gravesite was obviously tended to, but the home had begun to fall into disrepair. Nothing major, just little things; telltale signs that no one lived here anymore. She'd fixed what she could, delaying the inevitable parting. She didn't want to say goodbye. She didn't want to face Rost ‒ or what was left of him, at least.
With bile under her tongue, Aloy still recalled the angry words she had yelled in Rost's face, after he had stunned her with his announcement of departure. Rost wanted to leave, so that she wouldn't have to break any laws, any of those stupid, worthless Nora commandments that had neither rhyme nor reason behind them. Aloy hadn't cared for his motivations then; all she saw was another individual ‒ one who had been family ‒ abandoning her to the unknown.
It had hurt, and she had promptly lashed out in return. She knew she hurt him back ‒ she'd seen it in his eyes, clear as thunder on a cloudless day. His wounded feelings had brought her an ugly satisfaction then. Now, that memory only carried the acute sting of grief.
When she kneeled in front of his gravesite, her mouth had locked. She couldn't say anything; only harsh sobs escaped from her throat. Trails of tears, heavy with salt, had stung her cheeks. Then, when the pain became bearable once more, she had begun to speak. She talked until the sun set and an aching moon rose to the heavens above, bathing the world in silver light. Aloy told Rost about her travels, about leaving the Nora lands to find the secrets of the Old Ones; about the people she met along the way and the Shadow Carja she fought, bringing down their false god along with them.
She spoke quietly, finding peace in her own tale. Only once did her voice rise: when she recounted the duel with Helis on the walls of the Sun Palace. Hate, thick as machine oil, bubbled through her words. When Helis had fallen, impaled on her spear and hot blood gushing through his wounds, she had taunted him as a fool and a slave. Her words had given her a twisted pleasure, and even now, months after the event, she felt the satisfaction of killing him stirring in her gut.
She'd kicked Helis down from the battlements, then, after promising to wipe his name from history. He'd still been alive. His body hadn't been found, probably picked clean by vultures after the battle.
That too, Aloy found fitting.
With dawn, her tale came to end. She looked around at the place of her youth, and then left quietly, softly, as if afraid to disturb the one who slumbered here. Her bag had already been packed. She carried only the bare necessities: provisions, hunting materials, healing salves. With her bow, bag and spear, Aloy had set off down from Rost's cottage, found a herd of striders grazing nearby, and overridden one to carry her away.
She climbed on its back and set off, following the trail in her focus that would lead her straight to the Sobek farm. She never once looked back.
When she found Elisabet, something had clicked in her chest. She felt...whole suddenly, like the world had turned to offer more light upon her languished soul. The sorrow and guilt, the pleasure at her enemies' deaths...it all went away. It was quiet here. Game was good, machines few. Herds of tramplers ambled by in the distance, but never approached. A stormbird passed over one day, heading east, but Aloy had hidden, unwilling to bring it down. They machines were fixing the earth, she knew; healing the wounds made by the Old Ones.
It was nearly her third week here, and although she had no intention of leaving, she had once again begun to feel a longing. A drive to go somewhere, but...where? For the past many months, her objective had been clear: avenge Rost's death and discover the secret of her past. But now, with Hades gone and the Eclipse defeated, her future seemed muddy.
Aloy rose, brushing the thoughts away. The sun was above the mountains already, glinted off the snow and Elisabet's suit. Another day had come. Aloy turned to the northern edge of the farm. There, the land dipped and a deep brook, frigid from mountain snows, ran swiftly downhill. Aloy bathed in it twice a day, once after her morning commune with Elisabet and once before sunfall.
She headed there now, carefully untangling her braids to let the hair whip free about her shoulders. It had grown of late; usually, she cut it shorter to make running and hunting easier. Killing, too. There hadn't been a need for that.
She was down to her undergarments when her focus buzzed to life. Instinctevely, she dove down into the grass and crouched, quickly scanning her surroundings for any signs of danger.
"...Aloy?"
There was static in the transmission, but she knew that voice.
"Sylens," she growled, straightening up. "What do you want?" She didn't trust Sylens. The man had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, and he would do almost anything to fulfill his need. Morality didn't matter to him. Well...almost didn't matter, but his greed was so great that he could overlook things and take risks he shouldn't. Just as another man had. Ted Faro, who single-handedly caused the collapse of an entire planet.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news."
Aloy rolled her eyes. "As opposed to all the other kind of news you've brought?" she bit back, sarcastically. "What did you do this time, Sylens?"
"Now's not the time for verbal sparring, Aloy," she heard. The interference was getting worse. "This is urgent. I'm sending you...series of coordinates. Meet me...on the new moon. I'll explain more when I see you."
"How about you explain more now?" Aloy demanded. "Sylens?"
The static grew, cresting into a sharp, metallic squeal. Aloy winced, but her focus had already adjusted the noise level to a lower volume.
"Sylens?" she tried again. "Hello? Sylens?! Damn you!"
Sylens was gone. The only remainder of their short conversation was a blinking yellow light in the corner of the focus-sight. A set of numbers. Per her request, the focus quickly enlarged them, transplanting the coordinates onto a map of the surrounding area. Aloy whistled when she saw the name of the place Sylens wanted her to go to.
Wichita, Kansas, where the last battalions of USRC troops had made a desperate last stand to win out days ‒ even hours ‒ for project Horizon: Zero Dawn. Five Horus-class titans had eventually broken through, overrunning the defenses. The place was a graveyard, no doubt, teeming with machines and maybe...other things.
"Oh, what have you done, Sylens?" Aloy murmured to herself, as her body was already in motion. Her hair was twisted back into braids, her outer garments fitted on. She dashed towards the shelter she had made; there, her traveling pack was always ready. Her bow was oiled; spear sharp. Arrows were ready, and her provisions ‒ mostly smoked fish, dried greens, and a waterskin ‒ packed away. In fifteen minutes, only her tracks and the shelter were proof that she'd ever been here. Her shield-weaver armor was fitted, softly vibrating against her other layers.
Aloy's heart thumped through her chest. This is what she had been waiting for: a mission, a goal. Suddenly, her stay here made perfect sense: she had been resting, preparing for the fights ahead, because of course the story of Horizon wasn't over. It had just begun.
Aloy lifted her pack, settling it next to the bow, spear and arrow quiver on her back. She trotted out of her shelter, squinting as the sun met her eyes. Elisabet...she needed to say goodbye.
Elisabet Sobek hadn't moved. She lay peaceful, almost as if she were just asleep. If she was, then this world was her dream. Aloy reached out to brush her fingers against the visor glass. "Thank you," she whispered, and turned to go.
Her foot snagged. She stumbled against Elisabet's suit, hearing the metal protest, a sharp, unpleasant sound. The body moved, twisting to the side, as the momentum brought one of Elisabet's arms to the ground. Her fist smacked into the dirt, and something fell out.
Aloy detected the energy signature immediately. It was faint ‒ the metal of Elisabet's suit had been enough to conceal it ‒ but now obvious. Hesitantly, she leaned down to inspect the little bit of metal.
Data Key, her focus provided. Inaccessible. Encryption level Alpha Prime.
"Unencrypt." Aloy tried, but her focus just blared out the impossibility of such an action. Carefully, Aloy picked the object up. "What is this, Elisabet?" she murmured. "What were holding at the very end?"
She twisted it, watching the sun glint off the edges. On the other side, an inscription caught her eye. She carefully brushed away the dirt and grime to reveal just two words.
Project Nadezhda
Project was obvious, but Nadezhda? What did that mean? And if this was a data key, then what door did it open? The focus stayed silent, seemingly just as baffled as its owner.
Aloy sighed, carefully tucking the data key away into her armor. Sylens had requested to meet at the new moon, and she needed to travel quickly to meet his deadline. She whistled; her overridden strider mount heard and cantered up. She jumped on its back and nudged the sides with her heels.
Her journey was, too, was at its start.