Find me way out there
There's no road that will lead us back
When you follow the strange trails
They will take you who knows where
If I found a way to stay with you tonight
It would only make me late, for a date I can't escape
Strange Trails - Lord Huron
May 14, 2950; Michipicoten Island, Earth
Azra slept by the fire, waking every few hours to re-bank the coals before drifting off again. Spark nestled himself in the crook between her neck and her shoulder and watched the night sky with a steady eye. The stars charted stately courses overhead. There were no Fallen.
The pair rose to a damp and chilly dawn. She woke the fire in true, left her gear by the flames to dry off the dew, and went for a swim. The water was icy cold and the rocks were slippery, yet she stayed in for nearly twenty minutes, laughing at the novelty of weightlessness and Light-given warmth. When she left, it was for her growling stomach.
Once dry and warm, she gathered her gear and hiked inland. She had nothing good for hunting small game and certainly didn't want to commit the rest of her day to skinning a caribou. Instead she settled for a breakfast of ramps and arrowhead tubers gathered from one of the inland lakes.
It was peaceful, and Azra took great pleasure in letting it wash over her. She found herself in meditative silence, thinking long, slow thoughts, turning her attention to the world around her instead of the turmoil within. The habits of wild-life were still settled deep in her bones. It was a part of her not even the Vex could quash.
The island was quiet. No ships, no Sparrows, not a single Dreg. It was nice. But like always, Azra grew restless. She needed to move.
May 15, 2950, 13:01; Contemplation, Old Portugal, Earth
The cliff never had a name in her time. It was just a cliff. Her cliff.
Now the map said 'Contemplation', and there were two cairns of stone. One was made from the crumbly rock of the area, built by her own hands just months after she'd first Risen. After 81 years, it was covered in lichen, but still standing strong. The other cairn was a much more impressive piece, made of Martian sandstone and chalky Lunar crust and a dozen other kinds of stone besides. It was a pretty cool grave marker, Azra thought.
The wind off the sea was the same as ever. Azra sat on the edge and let her feet dangle, and it could have been any other year. She could almost pretend, except for the pain still weighing heavy in her chest.
She turned her head to the right, back away from the shoreline. Somewhere in that direction was a little cabin-shack nestled among the trees. It was the only structure within walking distance. Perhaps she had lived there in her first life. Maybe it hadn't been significant to her at all. She'd charted its location but had never gone inside.
"Do you regret not?" Spark asked. This life now, after escape, seemed like a second chance. One couldn't help but look back at the first one and wonder.
"…Nah," Azra said. "What could be in there that could make me feel better?" What if she found skeletons? What if she found a perfectly-preserved diary, detailing her whole first existence? Even then, it would only be things she'd have to leave behind.
What if she found nothing at all?
"It doesn't mean anything unless I make it mean something," she continued. "And why bother? Won't make me stronger. Won't give me hope. Just more burned bridges."
"Alright," Spark answered.
They sat in silence for a while. It was always quiet here. The wind never stopped.
She rose to her feet, nodded in respect at the horizon, then turned away from the cliff's edge. "Let's go."
Spark's eye lingered in the direction of the cabin for a moment more, then he zoomed off to be with his Guardian.
May 15, 2950, 15:53; The Last Safe City, Earth
Cayde waved Veera over after she finished giving a report to Ikora. The Warlock noted with satisfaction that he didn't seem incredibly worried or preoccupied over Azra's vacation. (Or perhaps he was just hiding it? Cayde never seemed worried about anything.)
The Hunter Vanguard leaned against the table in a way that looked comfortable but probably wasn't. "Got a minute?" he drawled. "If you're still looking for another Hunter to round out your team, I been thinking, I have a few suggestions."
Veera blinked owlishsly at him. "I thought Azra was coming with us."
He did a double-take. "Uh, no. Says who?"
"Says… Azra? Did she not tell you?"
Cayde's face, despite being mechanical, did an excellent job of displaying rage. "I'm going to kill her," he growled
Of course Azra hadn't told anyone yet. She was taking a vacation. And what a fantastic way of learning a long-lost friend was going to go back to the same place they almost died: not from the friend, but from a mutual acquaintance?
"Oops," Veera's Ghost said.
May 17, 2950; 21:42; Bosawás, Earth
It was hot and sticky in the jungle. Even at night, the humidity was so high it felt hard to draw breath. Azra was sweating. At least the wind could reach a bit better up in the tree branches. Azra had wedged herself in a fork between limb and trunk and was doing her best to tune out the screaming frogs and insects so she could get a few hours of sleep.
She thought of bugs and frogs, how little their lives had changed over the centuries. There was still day and night, wind and rain. Whether it was a Human sleeping in their tree or a Fallen made little difference to them. She thought of the insects on Venus, native and introduced at the same time. She thought of travel.
Her thoughts inevitably wandered to the place they always went in the stiller moments. She still had to stop herself from reflexively messaging him jokes and funny turns of phrase she came across. (These insects are really bugging me, har har). She'd always worried Andal got too bored, standing at his workstation all day.
"I'd give nearly anything to have just one more talk with him," Azra mumbled.
Spark hovered before her. Their mental link was strong enough that they didn't need to say their words out loud. It just helped make things feel more real. "You knew him. Know him. You could imagine anything he would have to say."
Azra let her eyelids droop low. The two of them pondered imagination together. That was one of the big things that set the Vex apart from Humanity. Azra could sit here and dream up eventualities that had no chance of ever happening.
The Vex have their simulations, Spark pointed out. The Infinite Forest is an imagination machine.
It's a derivation machine, Azra corrected. They take the current state of reality and alter variables until they get what they want. There's nothing new there. No spark of the impossible or the unknown. No wishful thinking.
But the idea of simulation stuck with her. She sighed and leaned back until she was comfortable against the trunk, chin drooping to rest on her chest. The night was almost impossibly dark, even in the canopy. The leaves blocked the moonlight very well. As Azra drifted of, she thought of Andal.
Where would he be? Not here in the jungle. He always had a hatred of being damp. Somewhere dry. She fixed a place in her mind's eye: thirsty, hard-packed earth. Rock.
The landscape here seems alien, though it is undeniably from Earth. The ground is dirt and stone, washed out from some previous flood. Large chunks and spires of rock seem to heave out of the earth, like breaching whales frozen in time, caught suspended at unreal angles. Dry shrubs and the occasional stubborn, twisted tree grow between the cracks in the stone. The quarter moon shines bright enough to cast crazy shadows, so the whole world seems fractured. The warm night is kept from being uncomfortable by the dry desert air.
She paints him carefully in her mind's eye- every detail still fresh in her memory. That particular way he sat, limbs spilling everywhere, one leg drawn up close to his body. He looked so relaxed, but he could be on his feet in a heartbeat if he needed to. She imagines the coarse hairs of his beard, the ever-present spark of mischief in his dark eyes. The way his hood sits habitually on his head, hair unkempt and messy underneath. He never bothered fixing it, even in his Vanguard days.
He sits beneath one of the stone buttresses. The angle of the formation isn't steep enough to give cover should the scrappy clouds open to rain, but it does provide a wall at his back. Dirt clings to his cape in steaks, settled into the seams and stitches. His armor is scuffed, laces askew. Stubble shadows his cheeks and jawline. His hands fidget with a pen as he stares into the fire. He always looks worried when he is deep in thought.
This is not Vanguard Andal with his fresh-pressed cloak and the weight of the world on his shoulders. This is the Andal before that, cunning and vivacious and untamed. Irrepressible, sly, with his flame out for all the world to see.
"Hey, Jax," he says, turning his head to look at her. He smiles- part happy, part sad. He takes a deep breath in and draws himself up a little bit, not so loose-limbed.
"Hey, Andal." She settles herself across from the memory of him. The fire flickers warm in its shallow pit. There is no wood pile. Azra pushes aside the small sense of shame (what is she doing here?) and focuses.
"What brings you here?" he asks casually. Too casually. But it's oddly hard to hold onto things here. The fire is just an impression of one- looking at it brings the feeling of safety and home. It scatters bits of memory- snatches of laughter, the smell of food cooking, the tinkling of charcoal- in her mind like swirling sparks.
She turns her gaze to Andal instead. "I missed you," she says, taking in the sight of him. The pen he holds shines bright in the firelight. His Light is tinged with sadness.
"I thought I told you to take care of yourself," he admonishes. It's not the wistful, warm scolding he would have given. It has a bite of actual anger to it.
Azra is confused. "I… am?" She's kept herself alive, in better physical condition than she was three days ago. She feels for Spark, relieved to feel him resting on her knee in the waking world. She's fine, she's alive, just toeing the edge between consciousness and dream.
"You're not…" His face screws up in disbelief. "How are you here?"
This isn't how this was supposed to be going. She isn't trying to imagine Andal being confusing like this. She wanted to apologize, get herself a bit of closure, but…
She isn't trying to imagine Andal.
She is not imagining anything. None of this is her.
Fear seizes her when she realizes she doesn't have control of the situation. She doesn't think she can handle getting trapped anywhere else. The fire flickers low, as if physically repressed by the panic. Azra's head whips up, casting about, but there's nothing to indicate anything wrong.
She just has no idea where she is. She gets the feeling she's not supposed to be here. Everything seems just a bit too dim and distant.
"What the hell happened to you?" he asks. Andal is anguished. A little scared. He reaches out to grab her hand, then seems to think better of it and twines his fingers together. Azra looks behind her and realizes she doesn't cast a shadow. The sense of wrongness chafes.
"I'm not dead," she insists, the last word sitting heavy on her tongue. This is a dead place. The last bit of disbelief shatters. Andal is here, wherever here is, and he's dead. Kaput. End of story.
"I know that," he says. "I can tell that. How in the wide world of sports are you here?"
"'Wide world of sports'?" she quotes. Well, she doesn't appear to be in any genuine danger. And the man across from her… undeniably Andal. The near-incomprehensible reference only serves to drive it home. "I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating at this point," Azra says. "Never thought it would be like this." She sighs and leans her elbows on her knees. What was Andal's age-old advice? When in doubt, crack a joke. "Why couldn't I have hallucinated anyone pretty?"
He chokes on his disbelief. "You're seriously… You come all this way just to insult me?"
"You're not even naked," she laments.
"You've seen me naked," Andal said.
"Yes, but this time, I could have imagined you had abs."
They look at each other for a beat. The fear in the air melts to incredulity and the repressed giddiness of waiting for someone to catch on. Andal slaps a hand to his face and breaks out in guffaws. Azra can't resist for long, and soon the boulders echo with their laughter.
"Oooohhh," Andal crows as the giggles subside. "Just… never change, Azra."
"Too late," she says. She means it jokingly, but the when the sound bounces back off the stone, the desert rings with her loss. She loses the grin. Her voice cracks. "I… I already-"
She stares down at her hands, scarred, proof of the Vex's damage, their control even here and now. She will have mementos of her time in the Vault until she dies her final death. Past that, even.
A tan, unblemished hand reaches out and takes hers, turning it over. It is blessedly solid and real. "It's a reminder of how strong you are," Andal murmurs. "Look at how much you've survived. Without the Traveler's help, without my help. You continue to blow me away."
"I'm sorry I left," she confesses. "I never meant to. I tried so hard-"
"You came back," he says. He squeezes her hand reassuringly. "That's all that matters to me. If you're not angry with me… well, I learned my lesson not to argue with you. I'll take it."
This reality is paper-thin. She focuses on the tingling in her hands and everything else falls slightly out of focus. Azra feels the waking world hanging over her like a frozen wave about to break and sweep everything away.
She looks back up in his eyes, grief constricting her throat. He smiles that charming smile that says everything is okay, and Azra finds enough innocence left in her to believe it.
Then Andal glares and. "Now get the hell out of here, and don't you even think about coming back until you're dead good and proper, you hear?"
She pulls back. Everything is becoming a bit too sharp, though something solid has settled in her chest. The screeching of rainforest bugs bleeds through into the still air. "Honestly, I don't know how to process this, so I'm not even going to try."
"Pretty sure you won't remember this anyway." Who is that speaking?
She grins. "Good. Don't think I could take five more minutes of staring at your ugly face."
"I'll have you know I am rated with four peppers on the VanNet forums."
"Four out of a hundred? Harsh."
He scoffs in mock outrage and lobs a stick at her.
Azra woke with a start. The jungle was filled with the cacophony of thousands of crickets and cicadas all trying to be heard over everyone else.
"That was weird," Spark said.
"What… was that? You were watching?" Azra asked.
Her Ghost have the mental equivalent of a shrug. "You teased Andal a bunch, he forgave you, then threw a stick at your head."
Azra frowned. "I don't remember the stick. Was I dead?"
"Not by my count."
"Huh."
"Quite the mystery, though."
There was quiet for a moment (aside from the constant screeching insects).
"Screw mysteries," Azra said with feeling. "I'm not looking under the hood of a gift Sparrow."
"… But remember that one time Mot Balek-"
She groaned and stretched her arms. "It's an expression, Spark. I'm not talking about that time Mot Balek rigged a Sparrow-bomb and gave it to me as a joke."
"Alright," Spark said. "If you say so."
She hoisted herself into a standing position. "I can't sleep here. Let's get out of this damn bug hell."
"Copy that."
May 18, 2950, 15:04; The Last Safe City, Earth
She was walking back from the library when a rough hand pressed down on her shoulder, forcefully steering her into a side alley. Veera let herself be pushed, out of surprise more than defeat.
It was a lean and tough-looking Hunter with a half-mad look in his eye. "Let me make one thing explicitly clear to you," the man hissed, hostile out of the gate. "I am holding you personally responsible for what happens to Azra in there."
"W-what?"
"You heard me." The man, despite only being a few inches taller than Veera, loomed over her. The razor-sharp tip of his knife was pressed into the spot between her eyes. "If Azra Jax dies in the Vault, consider yourself dead as well."
"You-"
"I have killed people before." His eyes were cold and steady. Too steady. "Risen, even. Do not mistake me for a braggart."
"No, sir!" Veera said. Fear made her voice enthusiastic. The Hunter's face shifted into an even deeper scowl. If Veera had been more superstitious, she might have said he was hexing her with his eyes. They were an oddly vibrant shade of green for a human and seemed to bore into her soul.
"I warned you. Don't bother coming back without her," he rumbled, then abruptly pushed back and strode away. Before he'd even reached the end of the block, he disappeared into thin air.
Veera stood there a moment, trying to catch her breath.
"Azra Jax has some strange friends," her Ghost commented
May 19, 2950, 16:14, near Old Ljubljana, Earth
Azra breathed slowly, deliberately. The current of the brook spooled pleasantly around her ankles. The water was cold, but the feeling was refreshing now that she was used to it. The woods were alive with birdsong and wind and the more minor rustlings of squirrels and mice. She pulled the peace around her like a blanket and let the warmth of the sunlight sink into her tired muscles.
Azra watched the water with half-lidded eyes. Small fish strived against the current, darting between rocks and submerged branches. Azra could catch and eat them, she knew. She took pleasure in the thought that she didn't need to. She wasn't hungry. She could sit and watch them in benevolence, noting the small dramas as they competed for space and snapped at water bugs.
Azra turned her focus inward- to the steady input and output of breath, the blood in her veins, the feel of her armor against her body, the prickle of goosebumps rising up her arms-
Everything snapped into place suddenly and her knife was in the air before she knew what she was throwing it at. She couldn't say exactly what had alerted her- not sound, certainly; not even the birds had noticed the approach. Perhaps her Lightsense had picked up the barest hint of something.
The figure was thirty yards away. It was a Guardian in sun-bleached gear. One hand was on the hilt of his gun, the other hand gripped the knife in his chest. He had a well-worn look to him.
Azra's brain immediately went Jaren, but that couldn't be. Jaren was dead.
Then again, hadn't she been 'dead' just a few weeks ago?
The point was moot as the figure crumpled to its knees and then keeled over into the dirt. Azra was already running to his aid, swearing internally. She ignored the rocks and sticks under her bare feet.
He was dead before she reached him. Her aim had been true- the knife had pierced his heart. His Ghost (a part of her sighed in relief as it appeared) hovered low over the body.
It gave her pause. She knew that Ghost. The tan-and-aqua shell was just as it was sixty years ago. The shiny-gold-compass feel of Jaren Ward's Toho was nostalgic and familiar.
The man it hovered over… was not. The cloak was different. The gear was different. More than that, the Light that gathered around him was not the same. He was Solar, even more than Jaren, even more than Cayde. The scent of burning sage filled her nose, marred by the barest hint of something… acrid.
When he rose again, he shone as brightly as the Sun. Anger and despair were tempered by righteousness. Jaren had never been so bitter. Azra backed up a few steps. Spark transmatted her boots back on to her feet and her sidearm back onto her belt.
The man coughed and splayed a hand on his chest where the knife had gone in. Azra couldn't make his expression inside his helmet. Toho transmatted the blade into the man's other hand. Azra grit her teeth and kept her eye on it.
"You're Azra Jax," the Gunslinger said, half-question, half-statement. His voice was deep and rough, with an accent similar to Jaren's, stronger.
"Who are you?" Azra asked in turn. Not denying was as good as a confirmation. She put her hands on her belt. Then, after a pause, "… Sorry 'bout the whole killing you thing." It didn't sound too convincing. She hadn't tried to make it. Something about this man had her hackles up. He twirled her knife between his fingers expertly.
"Name's Shin Malphur. I'm Jaren Ward's successor." Was that why Toho floated over his shoulder? All of Azra's knowledge said one Ghost, one Guardian, but…
That curiosity could wait. Shin tossed Azra's knife back in her direction. She caught it deftly and immediately returned it to its sheath. The man's hand finally left the grip of his cannon, and Azra relaxed marginally. "I got something for you," he said.
Then, with little fanfare, a scout rifle was transmatted into his hands. Azra's scout rifle. There was new detailing- a new scope, other modifications and adjustments added on, but Azra had spent far too long with that gun over her shoulder not to recognize it immediately. She'd left it in her vault during the Vault- she'd only kept the it for sentimental reasons in the first place. It had become outclassed as technology advanced.
The man gestured with it. Azra sized up the space between them. Shin was steady on his feet, not overly tense or overly relaxed. He had knives, sure, but the rifle was obviously unloaded. The gleaming gun on his hip was familiar.
Azra realized what was bothering her. Her locator was off. She wasn't actively logged on to the City channels, except for the brief ping sequences Spark sent direct to Cayde. This man had intercepted the ping she'd sent out over eighty minutes ago and had tracked her here.
"Why now?" she asked.
The man was rock-steady and still. He didn't shift or shrug. "I heard you were back. Rumor travels fast. Thought, this rightly belongs to you. Can't sit around all week waitin' for you to head back Cityside."
Azra stepped forward, not quite unable to chase the anxiety from her muscles. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Yet Azra had learned to trust her gut.
He handed the gun over matter-of-factly. Azra took a step back as she inspected it. Really, she was evaluating Shin's Light. There was something still vaguely sinister about him. He was dangerous, but not Jaren-dangerous, driven to protect kindness and right wrongs. This man was grounded in harsher convictions.
She had to admit he didn't appear to mean her immediate harm. He was tense, too, but not in an anticipatory way. She backed off enough for personal space, but not quite enough to be rude, and finally turned her attention to the gun. Adelante was… in really good shape. She'd have to go over all the modifications later, but-
"Thanks," she said, letting sincerity creep into her voice. There was something grounding about holding her old rifle again. It had seen her though Twilight Gap and Mare Ibrium. She looked up from the gun to meet Shin's gaze, still blocked by his helmet. A small frown pulled at her lips. "How is it you had this?"
Shin was oddly matter-of-fact. "I killed the man who rightly owned it."
Azra's body tensed around the gun. She looked Shin straight in the visor and made no attempt to hide the confused and angry expression on her face. The detail work was obviously Pahanin. Logically, as the last surviving member of her fireteam, in absence of a will, the gun would have gone to him.
Shin put his hands up. "It wasn't Pahanin. It was the man who killed Pahanin." Truth rang in his words.
Azra sighed and let Spark take Adelante. "That sounds like a story." She wasn't in a mood for stories right now.
Shin seemed to pick up on that and kept it brief. "Was a Guardian, renamed himself Dredgen Yor and started a murdering spree."
Dredgen Yor? She'd heard that before.
"Oh, I've got nothing on you. I've about eight or nine months now. It's been crazy. Rasputin and the Array, and that crazy Hive ritual that had all hands on deck a while back…"
Azra nodded her head like she had any idea what the Warlock was talking about.
"Still, probably seemed like nothing next to Twilight Gap. Or the Great Disaster. Or the Dredgen Yor business-"
Azra ate another spoonful of soup. She wasn't exactly unexperienced with Warlocks, but usually they didn't start rambling on you unless you gave them a reason. She didn't have any good strategies to make the stream of words stop.
"'Eternal Abyss?'" Azra asked.
"Where did you hear that from?" Shin asked. His voice remained neutral, perhaps a bit surprised, but it was impossible to miss the shade of suspicion in his Light.
"Hey, blame him," Azra said, hooking a thumb at her Ghost. "He's the one who's into old languages."
Shin turned his suspicion on Spark in a way that made Azra feel incredibly uncomfortable. She changed the subject. "So, I'm guessing they gave my stuff to Pahanin, then you got it once you offed Yor?"
"Yes," the man said, clipped.
"I really am sorry about killing you," Azra said, sincere this time. "You did kind of sneak up on me."
"I wasn't trying to sneak," the man intoned, crossing his arms, "and most people don't have a personal space bubble of sixty yards."
"Gorgon can erase you from further," Azra countered.
There was a mildly agreeable silence, and both Hunters stood there looking at each other.
Azra wondered at the other reason Shin had tracked her down. If he was only here to give her the gun, he would have left already. He didn't seem the sociable type, and Azra wasn't being particularly welcoming. Still he loitered like the last guest at a party.
"Why are you so tense?" Shin asked out of the blue. Azra realized she was bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"I'm not used to people still after the Vault and the fact that you either tracked me down off of a one-off ping or have been watching my movement patterns is giving me the heebie jeebies," Azra responded blithely. She crossed her arms and lowered her weight back on her heels. "What's got you so tense?"
"The first thing you did was kill me."
She quirked an eyebrow, all too aware of how visible her face was. Shin's helmet remained unreadable. "And?"
"I spend a lot of time seeking Guardians who've been corrupted by the Darkness." Unspoken there was the assumption that Azra was a potential threat. She had to it admit, it did make sense. Azra hadn't given in to Ahamkara whispers or gone about murdering Ghosts, but she had walked a long time in a very Dark place. If anyone was at risk of falling, it would be her.
It made sense, but it still put her in an uncomfortable position. She spread her hands in a peaceful gesture, trying not to sound accusatory. "Good to know there's someone out there looking out for that. I'll try not to take it personal. Am I coming across as a maniacal killer?"
He paused, shook his head. "You just look… tired."
Whatever judgement he passed on her, it passed, and he nodded. She nodded. He turned to leave, and Azra felt the peace of solitude settle like a weighted blanket in the back of her mind, and the words came out of her mouth.
"And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about Jaren. He was a good man. One of the best I've known."
Shin stopped. "You knew him well?" He was trying to keep the interest out of his voice. Of course Jaren's past would be important to him.
"I met him at Twilight Gap," Azra explained. "It was… a dark time for me. I like to think I'm a better person today for having known him."
"Dredgen Yor killed him, too," Shin said. His voice was cold.
Azra huffed out a sigh of grief and looked back up at the sky. "Everyone dies," she said. "And everything ends. The system's a little darker now without him in it." Jaren always had his stuff figured out. She longed for just a scrap of his advice.
"-But why you do things matters." Jaren nodded firmly. "It does. Matters more than the things themselves, sometimes."
Why had Azra gone into the Vault? A bit of ego, perhaps, and it wasn't as if she wouldn't celebrate the destruction of that particular Vex fortress, but the real reason-
The real reason was because Kabr had asked her. Andal, in his own way, had asked her. He'd wanted someone he trusted on the job. And when someone called for help, it was not in Azra's nature to say no.
Now, sure, there was the spark of vengeance lit in her, her horror at the Vex's machinations, the stubborn refusal to go quietly… but in the end, it was because Veera had asked for help. She couldn't just say no.
If we're walking back into hell, Spark whispered, at least it's for a good reason.
"Nothing can be done," Shin said, breaking her out of her reverie.
"Ah, he's not gone," Azra said, finally believing it, if only a little bit. "He still gives pretty good advice."
Shin turned and left with a nod. Azra stood for a long moment after he left. Spark re-transmatted Adelante back into her hands.
Azra slung the gun over her shoulder, and for the first time since leaving the Vault, felt like something more. More Hunter, less hunted. Not so defined by loss.
"Let's go home," she said. Home wasn't a place, it was people. She was tired of being alone.
May 19, 2950, 16:34; The Last Safe City, Earth
Azra drew herself up, tall and proud. She walked the quiet, smooth stride that was settled into her bones and let confidence tilt up her chin and set back her shoulders. Adelante was a comforting weight at her back.
She reached the door to his room and paused. This wasn't going to be easy, she knew. She'd decided one-by-one was the best way to break the news. Everyone would have different arguments-
She opened the door. Cayde was off work. Cayde was waiting for her.
Cayde was pissed as hell. The entire room seethed with it. His optics were hard and unflinching. His hands were balled into fists.
Azra shifted in the doorway. "Veera spilled the beans, didn't she." The look Cayde gave her told the whole story. Azra sighed. "Dumb Warlocks. No sense of timing."
"When were you planning on telling me?" Cayde asked accusingly.
"Right now," Azra said. Truth.
That stopped him for a moment, but, "This isn't happening," Cayde said.
"Yes, it is," Azra shot back, just as stubborn. She stood in the doorway a moment longer, then stepped through and closed it behind her.
"Just… why?" Cayde ground out.
"Remember Mare Ibrium?" Azra asked. Cayde started a bit, which Azra took as a yes.
"I'm the one with experience," she continued. "I'm the only one who knows up from down, and it'll be a complete disaster without me."
"You don't need to do this," Cayde said.
She considered that for a moment. "That's not really true. What is important is that they need me to do this."
"Screw them!" Cayde yelled. "You're not going. I forbid it."
She just blinked at him. "Are you serious?"
"I'm the Vanguard now. I say, let someone else do it."
"Who?" she shot back. "Who would do as good a job? Who else has even the vaguest guess of what is down there?"
Cayde glared accusingly. "You just can't accept the way things are now. You're running."
Low blow. Azra pulled her lips back in a grimace. "This has nothing to do with Andal," she said.
"You're leaving again."
"I'm no-"
"Yes you are! You're going back! For no goddamn reason!"
"Would you listen to me?" she hissed.
She expected Cayde to argue back, but he crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly. That was… not a Cayde move. He'd learned patience. She took a moment to catch her breath, push aside the anger.
"Veera's fireteam- they're going in, with or without me," she explained. "I can't sit by and watch as more people die to the Vex, Cayde. And frankly… I don't know if they could find their way without me. They're all very straight-laced. But I am confident they can take everything the Vault can throw at them. We'll make it back. Promise."
"Why now?" Cayde asked.
"They've already delayed enough for me. And…" She gave up on trying to hide it. "I... I can't keep living like this. It's already haunting me. I got a sword hanging over my head."
"So you're running," he re-stated.
She spread her hands before her. "You don't get it. I've seen what they're planning in there. I haven't… really left. It is impossible to put behind me when it's ahead of me, too. It's outside of time. I can't keep living in the shadow of the Vault. It's just too much."
"It's too dangerous," Cayde said again.
"It's worth the risk." She couldn't believe after Mare Ibrium, after the Dare, that Cayde could stand here and talk the danger game at her with a straight face. "It's something that needs to be done. I don't want anyone else to do it. I gotta see Atheon die with my own eyes."
"It isn't like you," Cayde said. "Personal pride isn't anything to stake your existence on."
"How is it different from Taniks, then?" she hissed.
Cayde flinched. "Ah, you're still mad about that, aren't you?"
Azra stared at him wordlessly.
The glare Azra gave him was… yeah. She was still mad.
"It's too dangerous," Cayde changed the subject back. "We're not gonna lose you again."
"And I don't want to lose you," she soothed.
"You left!" he yelled. "You already went and left us! How can you just leave, again?" Azra looked stunned. Cayde just kept going. "How little do you care about me? About us? Less than your revenge." He knew it wasn't true, but he was bitter and desperate. She was slipping away.
He expected her to bite back, but she was silent for a long moment. She lowered herself into a chair and stared dully out the window, white as a ghost. That was… not an Azra move. She'd learned to give up.
"I'm sorry that this hurts you," she said. Her voice carried honesty and despair. "I don't want to cause you any more… grief. But this is something I can't not do. I can't sit by and watch as more people go in there and… cease existing. I can't live my life, every second, every day, knowing that the Vex are getting closer and closer to a timeline where I don't exist." Her eyes met his. "Or where you don't exist. They're a threat to everything, Cayde. I can't ignore that. However much it hurts you. I'm sorry."
Cayde slouched against the table next to her. She bowed her head. "Don't ask me to stay," she pleaded. "I can't stay. I just can't. This is already hard enough."
He stumbled. "I just… I can't- I can't lose you again." He'd done his best to hide his grief from her, but here, now, she could read him like a book.
"Oh Cayde," she sighed, levering herself back upright. She cupped a hand to his cheek, feeling the cold metal warm slightly under her fingers. "You gotta let me go."
He grabbed her wrist, tight, like he could physically hold her there. Cyan optics searched gray eyes.
Whatever he saw there, he sighed and let go. "…Okay." He looked defeated.
Azra stepped close and threw her arms around him. She'd missed him, down in that cavern.
"Would anything ever be enough?" He asked. "To stop you from going back?"
"I'm already there," she murmured. "I'm not out of it yet. I just wanna be free." She buried her face in his shoulder- his cape still smelled faintly of Andal. "I missed you, so much."
"I missed you, too," he said. Azra could picture the pout on his face. "You broke my heart, you know. Leaving like that."
"I didn't know what I was doing." A poor excuse, but the only one she had.
"It doesn't seem much like you know what you're doing now."
"I think if anyone could ever know what they were doing in the Vault, it would be me." She pulled back and sighed.
She looked less defeated now, but that irrepressible spark had been dimmed. Tempered, perhaps. Forged into steely determination.
"Why not take Tevis?" Cayde bargained. If she was going back down, he could at least send someone he trusted to watch her back.
She frowned. "Tevis gives up too easily." That… was true, he admitted.
"Shiro?"
"Shiro can never leave anything alone. He'd nitpick himself insane in there."
"And me?" He asked boldly. Maybe, just maybe-
She smiled fondly at him. "You got other obligations."
"Don't remind me," Cayde grumbled.
Azra laughed. Really, actually laughed. Cayde had to stop himself from staring.
"You technically lost that bet," Azra said.
"What bet?" Cayde asked.
Spark played the audio.
"Here's the proposition. No touching this Dare at all, just what happens after. You lose this deal, you got five years to take and win another Dare. If'n you don't, I get all your turns to call where camp is. Forever. If you do, you get mine."
"You'd bet all your campsites on me to get me out of there quicker?"
"Forever's never as long as you think it'll be. I can win 'em back later. I just got a real bad feeling about all of this."
"Bet,"
"Witnessed and noted."
"… Guess you're right," Cayde admitted.
She had the most Andal-like spark of mischief in her eye. "How about a bet, then? High-stakes, Andal-style."
"What're the terms?" Cayde asked.
"If I'm not back in say… five weeks, you can have your campsites back."
He crossed his arms. "Nuh-uh. I'm getting all of them. Yours to. Five weeks is a hell of a long time."
"And what will you stake against all of the campsites?" Azra asked.
He thought for a long moment. "I'll make you second." As Andal's second, Cayde naturally lead the pack now.
"You didn't pick one?" she asked.
"Not much use with only three members."
She shrugged, then a thought crossed her mind. "Wait, five weeks on whose end? 'Cause like, what if it takes five weeks for me, then we come out and it's been only two hours?"
May 19, 2950, 19:14; The Last Safe City, Earth
Tevis opened the door to find two fairly inebriated Hunters already occupying the room.
"Blood pact!" Azra crowed in greeting.
Tevis took a second to re-evaluate. There were crumpled papers scattered everywhere. Cayde and Azra sat at the table. Between them sat a half-empty bottle of whiskey, a neater stack of papers, and a still-bloody knife.
"I hear you're going back in the Vault," Tevis said.
That killed the mood fast. The smile fell from Azra's face. She put her drink down so careful one would think it liable to explode.
Azra, for all her charms, was not very good at lying. She was always a bit of an open book. Times like this, she might as well as had a neon light over her head flashing 'nervous' and 'worried'. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I'm going back in."
"And you think it's a good idea?" he asked.
The resolve in her face spoke volumes. She shrugged. "Not a good one, but the best one we got. I can't just stand still."
Tevis let the point slide for the moment and moved to stand by the table. "What is this?" He motioned to the neat stack of papers by Cayde's right elbow.
"This," Cayde said, flipping back to the first page, "is the most complicated bet of all time."
"Jesus. Are those tables?" Tevis snatched the report from his hands and leafed through. Indeed, there were tables, charts, and… "Appendix A: Nonlinear Time Shennaniganry? Appendix B: In Case of Death."
"Oooh, don't forget Appendix D for Dare!"
He flipped to the appropriate page. "You took the Dare?"
Azra had a gleam in her eye. "If time BS happens and I get out in the future and Cayde is dead and the Vanguard spot is unfilled with no other Dares ongoing and I flip a coin and it comes up tails. Then Vanguard Azra."
"The coin's just there for dramatic effect," Cayde explained.
Tevis frowned and looked at Azra. "And you just… took it?"
"Oh, I've put up some very good counter-offers," Cayde drawled.
The old Nightstalker shook his head and thumbed through the pages. "How deep does this rabbit hole go?" he asked.
"There are two hundred and fiffy-six possible outcomes," Spark supplied. "We've been quite thorough."
That was frankly ridiculous. "I've got a headache," Tevis complained. It was the similar overwhelmed feeling he used to get when Andal-
Oh. He glanced up from the pages and really looked at the two of them. There was an eagerness in Azra that she'd been missing. Cayde was more at ease. Both of them were smiling, thick as thieves.
... Okay, he could deal with this.
Azra waggled the whiskey at him plyingly. After a moment, he took it and uncapped the bottle, taking a swig. He sat down in the empty chair with a grunt. "Wait. Okay. Walk me through this."