A/N: It's been a few years since I last wrote anything that remotely resembled fanfiction, but my that was my hectic high school life. My current semester in college feels more laid back than the last few, so I thought I'd juggle my free time between playing video games, studying, and writing stuff like this.
As always, a disclaimer: While the work is entirely inspired by Bungie's Destiny franchise, what follows is interpretive work I came up with while sitting in boring lectures.
A tale that's different from the rest: the thread unfurls against the clocks.
The one the Speaker loved the best must have a Perfect Paradox.
It is barren here.
In this husk of a world, I hear nothing – not even the constant rumbles of war machines marching on my doorstep, bent on destroying me. In this dead future, I see a star finally ripped of its light, and the stars around me blanketed in darkness. In this husk of a future, there is only defeat – only death, destruction and ruin for my City.
I do not even know what ever came of the City I loved, nor did I complete my mission among these fields of glass. I could not protect those I swore my shield to, but I have succeeded where many others will surely follow. I have killed enough machines to end one damnable conflict, but at the price of my Light. In the last battle, they finally sent a Mind uniquely constructed to drain me of my power. Though I sit on top of its dead shell, I must begrudgingly admit that it worked well.
I'm afraid I know that I will die here, and more that I'll never fully realize my dreams of being your equal. To me, you are everything our peers could ever hope to be. Yours is a thriving City – a safe City, defended from the shadows that hound its walls. Yours is so different from mine, with its cold nights and hallowed sunrises. All my fourteenth life I fought to make my City yours. I never finished.
It is getting harder to breath now. My ship's oxygen reserves have run out, Mercury's atmosphere has finally thinned to oblivion, and even my armor is starting to feel heavy. All I have left by my side, faithfully like a friend, is this weapon. The scholars say you fashioned it yourself, made out of scraps, Light and sheer will – a matter of victory, as Shaxx liked to say – inside the Infinite Forge. When you gave it to me, I swore I would make it my duty to follow your example. I'm afraid that I failed, as hard as I tried.
So, to my final inspiration: your parting gift to me I now send back to you. It'll be good to see you again. This time, I'll make sure it finds its way back to you.
Like or dislike, take some time to visit the comments and relay some of your feedback. It helps me organize my writing style as I finally write something unrelated to research. Have a pleasant day.