A gun went off and Harley flinched, bracing for the pain. When none came he looked around for the damage. Prism was lying on the floor next to him with some kind of band wrapped around her shell. Harley felt the chill inside him deepen as he locked eyes with his Ghost.

"Drop your weapon!" the same voice demanded, "I won't ask again!"

Harley tried to work out how to make his hands cooperate. His instincts screamed at him not to let go because then he'd be unarmed and that meant death. But these were Guardians. They were on the same team. If the Warlocks wanted him to drop the gun, he should probably do it.

His grip slackened and the gun clattered to the floor. Almost instantly, it was snatched up by one of the Warlocks and dumped into a heavy looking container.

"Get down on your knees." The leader — it had to be the leader — ordered.

Harley let himself drop, ignoring the jolt that went through him as his knees hit the floor. He was still looking at his Ghost. She looked worried, but her blue eye still shone bright and steady. He was dimly aware of one of the Warlocks cuffing his hands.

"Harley Hayden, you are bound by law on the authority of the Praxic Order."

Harley kept his focus on Prism. Whatever was happening, they would get through it together. He felt a slight pressure on his shoulder, indicating that he should stand up. He complied without protest. Better to go along with it now and figure out what was happening later.

Another Warlock stepped forward and reached for his Ghost. Rational thought fled and Harley threw himself toward Prism, teeth bared. Instantly, two Warlocks jumped in to restrain him, grabbing a hold of his arms. He fruitlessly tried to shake them off as the other Warlock knelt down to pick up his Ghost. When their fingers closed around Prism, a red tint clouded Harley's vision and he threw himself sideways, sending one of the Warlocks into the wall. Partially free, he tried once more to reach Prism, but the next thing he knew, there was a hand on his back and he was screaming as electricity coursed through him, causing his muscles to spasm and setting fire to his nerves.

He dropped to his knees again, chest heaving as the lightning danced its way across his skin. This wasn't supposed to happen. These were Guardians! Why were they taking his Ghost? He was hauled to his feet, their hands around his arms like vices. His muscles trembled uncontrollably and he was almost grateful for the tight grip of the Warlocks because he was barely able to support his own weight. The Warlocks marched him out of the apartment.

When they emerged into the Bazaar, Harley felt the weight of many eyes upon him from Guardians and civilians alike. He bowed his head so the hood of Cayde's cloak obscured his face, staring at the ground as they continued forward. A bit further on, he heard a set of footsteps rapidly approaching from the right side.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ikora's voice cut through the air.

Harley tilted his head up. The Warlock Vanguard stood a few paces away, arms crossed as she waited for an answer. Her gaze flicked downward, briefly meeting Harley's before settling on the Warlock in front, who stepped forward. She was wearing a dark gray duster and carried a sidearm. Her skin was brown and her dark hair was pulled into a braid. Her eyes flickered as she addressed Ikora.

"Praxic business."

Ikora raised an eyebrow. "What business does your Order have with Harley Hayden that necessitates restraints, Aunor?"

"The kind that arises when we find him in possession of a Weapon of Sorrow," the Warlock, Aunor, replied.

Dread filled Harley at her words. Weapon of Sorrow. Was that what that hand cannon had been? But he knew he'd never seen it before in his life. How had it turned up in his apartment?

Ikora turned back to him, her eyes boring into his. "Is this true?"

"They found me with it but it's not mine," avowed Harley, "I've never seen it before!" He stared at her, silently pleading for her to do something.

The Warlock Vanguard sighed. "Aunor, are you sure about this?"

"We'll look into the possibility when we question him," Aunor replied.

Ikora didn't look happy, but she nodded. "Keep me updated."

Aunor nodded back before motioning for the Warlocks to start walking again. As they marched on, Harley glanced back toward Ikora, who stared after them with a troubled expression. When he resumed facing forward, he caught a flicker of movement off to the left side. He looked over just in time to see the Drifter leaning out from behind the alley wall. The man made a face at Aunor before shooting Harley a sympathetic expression.

Before Harley could make any kind of response, they were moving on. He lost track of the route to Praxic headquarters as they wound through hallways in the lower levels, giving up on trying to figure out their relative location.

Upon reaching it, Harley was searched. The Warlocks found and removed the knives he was carrying. Aunor's nose wrinkled at the coin the Drifter has given him, but she let him keep it. His hands were uncuffed, but the cuffs were switched out for strange electronic bracelets. The Warlocks escorted him into a holding cell before dispersing. Fortunately, they had at least left Prism with him, even if she was still subdued by the restraining band. He held her in his hands as he sat on a bench in the cell, staring into her eye.

"How did this happen?" he wondered.

"I don't know," said Prism, sounding troubled, "But it shouldn't last long. The Praxic Order will do some more digging and figure out that they've made a mistake... You'll be out of here in no time."

"I hope so…" He ran his thumb over the restraining band. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No, it doesn't hurt," she said, "But I don't like how it feels either. I don't like being unable to phase. It makes me feel like something could come along any minute and kill me."

Harley's grip around her shell tightened. "I won't let that happen."

"But you're cut off from the Light," Prism pointed out, "There's only so much you could do."

"I wouldn't let anything get to you," Harley promised, "Besides, we're in Praxic headquarters surrounded by Guardians. Nothing's going to happen to you."

Prism emoted a smile at him. "Thanks, Harley."

Harley nodded before glancing around the cell again. He wondered what exactly the Praxic Order's purpose was. He was pretty sure he'd heard of it before, but he couldn't recall any information about it. He decided to ask his Ghost. "Prism, can you tell me what the Praxic Order is?"

She blinked. "Yes. They're an order of Warlocks who believe that Guardians shouldn't be concerned with the nature of the Darkness, but instead how to fight it. Their job is to keep Dark artifacts out of Guardian hands. Ever wonder who guards the Guardians? It's the Praxic Order."

Keeping Dark artifacts away from Guardians. Their reaction to the Weapon of Sorrow suddenly made a lot of sense. "And it's Warlocks only?"

"Yes. Erianna-3 was a member... One of Eris' fireteam members."

Harley nodded. He remembered the story about Eris' fireteam meeting their final deaths below the Moon. It reminded him that he hadn't seen Eris since the business with Oryx had ended. "Where has Eris been?" he asked.

Prism sighed. "No one's certain. She hasn't been seen since before the Red War."

Harley's chest tightened. He hoped Eris had made it out of the War. She'd already been through more than enough as it was. He let out a sigh. His limbs felt heavy, as though someone had opened up his veins and poured concrete inside. A profound weariness hung over him. He wanted nothing more than to go back to his room and forget that all of this had happened.

His head jerked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. A helmeted Warlock was standing outside of the cell. Harley's eyes narrowed as they moved to lean against the bars. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about them felt off. Maybe it was their too-casual stance or the slight edge of wariness to their movements. Whatever it was, it had Harley's interest.

As he watched, the figure reached into a pocket and withdrew a jade coin like the one the Drifter had given Harley. The Warlock made the coin dance across their fingers at the same time as they spoke, the voice instantly recognizable to Harley despite having only met its owner once.

"How ya livin', brother?"

"Drifter?" asked Harley incredulously.

"Not so loud, kid," said the Drifter, "I didn't go to the trouble of borrowin' this getup just so you could call the Praxics down on me."

"What are you doing here?" Somehow, he wasn't surprised that the man had stolen Warlock robes to get into Praxic headquarters. It was why he'd gone to the trouble that interested Harley.

"Saw the Praxic Order pick you up earlier," said the Drifter easily, "Anyone who pisses them off tends to be interestin' to me."

Harley wasn't sure he believed that. It was more likely that the Drifter was making sure he wouldn't snitch on Gambit. Aunor's reaction to seeing the coin had given him the impression that she knew the Drifter and wasn't a fan. He couldn't be sure, however, as the Drifter's borrowed helmet defied any attempts at reading his face.

"They want me because of a gun," he said.

The Drifter chuckled. "Must've been one hell of a gun."

Harley sighed. "That's the thing… I've never seen it before today. I got home and found it on the table. That Warlock - Aunor - said it was a Weapon of Sorrow."

The Drifter nodded minutely, turning the coin over in his hand. "That'd do it… Weapons of Sorrow can be real nasty."

"Do you know how one could have ended up in my apartment?" asked Harley. He figured it was worth asking.

The Drifter shrugged. "Could've happened any number of ways..." He glanced over his shoulder. "Look kid, I'd help ya if I could, but I don't think you want my help in this situation seein' as the Praxic Order doesn't look too kindly on anyone who associates with me." H

arley's shoulders dropped as a tiny flame of hope he hadn't even known he had was extinguished. He nodded.

"Word of advice," said the Drifter, "You get those charges dropped fast. Word gets around 'bout you havin' a Weapon of Sorrow and the Man with the Golden Gun might come knockin'. And I can tell you right now, brother, he won't be polite about it."

Foreboding prickled at the back of Harley's neck. He swallowed hard, nodding at the older man. "Good luck, kid," said the Drifter.

And with that, he turned and strolled away as though he hadn't a care in the world. Harley thought about his warning. It made sense that people would come after him if they thought he used Weapons of Sorrow. But he wasn't sure who "the Man with the Golden Gun" was. A good percentage of Hunters were Gunslingers, so the description didn't narrow the field very much. Or not enough to be helpful anyway.

Still, it didn't particularly matter. What mattered was clearing up the whole situation so he could get out of the Tower. All he wanted to do was be out in the wilds without having to worry about things like wars, Taken, or Uldren Sov. He just had to wait for one of the Praxic Warlocks to come by so he could plead his case.

Aunor Mahal's office was located some distance away from the holding cells. It was by no means a large room, but it was suitable enough for her work and contained everything she needed to carry out that work.

At the moment, she was finishing the paperwork for Harley Hayden's processing. If there was one benefit of the Red War, it was the concentrated effort to digitize more files to prevent records from being lost should another attack occur. The less actual paper she had to deal with, the better. Aunor had just finished filling out the forms when the door to her office opened and Ikora Rey strode in.

Ikora had a commanding presence no matter where she went. She could freeze Guardians in place as easily as breathing, whether it was in the Tower or the Crucible. As the full force of her gaze met Aunor's, the Praxic Warlock fought the effort to shrink back. Instead, she forced herself to square her shoulders and meet the Vanguard's gaze, counting herself lucky that they weren't in the Crucible.

"Ikora," she greeted with a nod.

"Aunor," the other Warlock replied.

Aunor stacked the forms in front of her. "I take it you're here because of Harley Hayden."

"I am. You said earlier that he was found in possession of a Weapon of Sorrow."

Aunor nodded. "He was."

"Are you certain that it belonged to him?"

Aunor sighed. "We have not yet questioned him but as it stands, everything points to yes. He appeared to be in the process of putting it away when we found him."

"And if it wasn't?"

"Then we will investigate to find out who it belongs to and deal with them accordingly. But as Hayden is currently our best and only suspect, we'll be launching an investigation into his background and activities."

Ikora nodded. "I understand… And have you told Shin Malphur about any of this?"

Aunor scoffed. "We don't work with Malphur. You know that. We might have the same goal, but we have a...conflict of interest regarding methodology."

Ikora nodded again, looking satisfied. "I didn't think you would," she said, "As for Harley's situation… keep me informed."

"We will." Ikora turned to leave. "Wait," said Aunor. The Vanguard turned back. "While you're here, I wonder if I could talk to you about the Drifter?"

Ikora sighed. "I've heard your concerns before, Aunor. As it stands, Gambit is still a relatively new operation. Certainly not large enough to warrant a full-scale investigation. Besides, the Drifter is cooperating fully with Shaxx and the Vanguard. If any action needs to be taken in the future, I'll let you know."

Aunor didn't like it but she nodded. This time when the Warlock Vanguard made her exit, Aunor didn't stop her. Instead, she rose with a sigh. Hayden needed to be questioned and it wouldn't get done with her just sitting there.

Making her way out of her office, she gestured for Sarren, one of her Warlocks, to accompany her to Hayden's cell. Upon arriving at the cell, they saw Hayden sitting on the bench, head bowed and shoulders slumped. Aunor considered how best to proceed. He didn't look like someone planning to try something. Then again, he'd put up resistance after they'd cuffed him in the apartment, thrashing around like that. He was also a Hunter and Aunor knew how crafty and stubborn Hunters could be. There was always the chance that Hayden was putting on an act.

Coming to a decision, she unlocked the cell door and motioned for Sarren to cuff the Hunter. Hayden didn't look up when the lock clicked, or even when the door opened. Still, Aunor didn't relax until the cuffs were on. Sarren gestured for Hayden to stand. The Hunter complied wordlessly, moving to follow Aunor at the Warlock's direction.

Aunor led him to an interrogation room, Sarren bringing up the rear. The other Warlock shot her a questioning look when they arrived at the door. Aunor nodded at him and he nodded back, stopping to wait in the observation room while she and Hayden continued forward. The interrogation room was barren, save for a metal table bolted to the floor and chairs occupying the center.

Aunor sat down in one of the chairs and waited for Hayden to take the other seat before pulling out a Holopad and a stylus. She glanced at the one-way mirror that took up one of the walls. Sarren would watch from the other room and take his own notes. They'd compare after the questioning was over. Hayden, for his part, sat quietly in the opposite chair, his thumb running over the edge of his Ghost's shell in a small repeated motion. Aunor took note of it mentally as she prepared to start the interrogation. Drawing a breath, she began.

"Your name is Harley Hayden, correct?" Hayden nodded, his gaze still on the Ghost in his hands. "Sometimes known as 'Ace'?" Another nod. "How long have you been a Guardian?" She wasn't about to let him get away with answering every question with a nod.

"S...three years," Hayden replied.

Aunor's eyes narrowed at the hesitation and slight uncertainty in his voice. He was lying. She made note of it in her Holopad. She'd push him on it later. "Where were you revived?" she asked. She knew the answer to this as she'd done some preliminary research into his background.

"Mercury," the Hunter replied.

Aunor nodded. He was telling the truth that time. She considered her approach. Originally, she'd planned on doing the background questions before moving onto the problem at hand. But her instincts were telling her to skip ahead.

"Do you know why we arrested you?"

Hayden nodded slightly. "There was a Weapon of Sorrow in my apartment."

She noticed that the way he said it implied personal detachment, but the wording likely didn't mean much. After all, anyone in Hayden's position would want to avoid incriminating themselves as much as possible. Still, she made a note of it all the same. "Possessing a Weapon of Sorrow is a third-degree offense at least," she told him.

"It doesn't belong to me," Hayden said, meeting her eyes for the first time. His were weighed down by dark circles.

"If it's not yours, do you know where it came from?" she asked.

Hayden shook his head. "I've never seen it before today."

"Could it belong to one of your teammates?"

He shook his head again. "None of them would use a Weapon of Sorrow. I'm sure of it."

"Guns don't walk into apartments by themselves, Hayden," she pointed out.

The Hunter's brows came together. "I know," he said, "But I'm telling you I don't know where it came from or how it got there."

In terms of defenses, it wasn't looking good for him. Weapons of Sorrow didn't just turn up out of the blue. The most logical conclusion was that it belonged to either Hayden or to one of his friends. She just had to determine who. The sentence for third-degree offenders wasn't terribly harsh. Monitoring and potential rehabilitation if necessary. It was much better than the vigilante justice Shin Malphur dealt out, in any case. The sentence could be more harsh, however, if evidence of instability was found outside of interaction with the Darkness on a material level. The background questions would help determine that.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table."I've read your file, Hayden. You've done a lot of good for the City even in your first year. Reconnecting Rasputin...killing the Black Garden... impressive stuff. But it also said that you vanished for four months. No contact. Where were you during that time?"

Hayden's eyes were fixed on the table. "The Vault of Glass."

Aunor raised an eyebrow. The Vault of Glass was a dangerous place. It had cost the City many Guardians. She made a note but didn't comment further on it. "And upon returning from the Vault, you worked to stop the Hive from raising Crota?" she asked, "Along with your teammates?"

Hayden nodded. "Yeah, we did."

"What about after the Battle of Saturn? According to your file, you were involved with stopping Oryx as well. However, you also have a medical file dated at around the same time. Classified. Care to shed some light on that?"

Hayden's shoulders were drawn up defensively. "If it's classified, I don't think I should be telling you," he said.

Aunor shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm just trying to get a sense of the things you did as a Guardian. But if you want to give me more homework, then-"

"I was Taken by Oryx," the Hunter whispered.

Aunor's eyes widened. Suddenly the classified file made a lot more sense. She added another note to her Holopad before assessing Hayden. The Hunter's shoulders were curled forward now. His body had gone tense, the movements of his fingers on his Ghost's shell ceasing. Aunor decided to move away from the topic.

"In the period following the Taken War, you seem to have spent a lot of time in the Reef. What were you doing over there?"

"Looking for Uldren," said Hayden, "There were rumors that he'd survived the Battle of Saturn and I wanted...well, I made a promise."

Aunor nodded. "And you weren't able to locate him?" Hayden shook his head. "Despite the fact that he clearly did survive the battle?"

"I had no idea at the time. As far as I knew, I was looking for a ghost."

Aunor had expected that answer. She'd only asked because she felt it was a good idea to make sure. She decided to skip over the events of the Red War as they were well known and Hayden's recognition for crashing Ghaul's ship was public knowledge.

"After the Red War, you went off the grid for about six months without informing the Vanguard. What were you doing during that period?"

Hayden shifted in his seat. "I was investigating the Vex," he said.

"Where?"

Hayden shrugged. "A few places. Venus, Nessus, Io…"

"Mercury?" Aunor questioned.

The skin around Hayden's eyes tightened. "Mercury was one of the places I visited, yeah."

Aunor's interest was piqued. There was obviously more to Mercury than just a visit. "What did you find on Mercury?" she asked.

"I don't know, Vex doing Vex things?" Hayden's shoulders were tense again.

Aunor decided to pursue a hunch. "While you were on Mercury, did you enter the Infinite Forest at any point?"

Hayden's movements froze and the Praxic Warlock felt a measure of satisfaction. Her hunch was looking more likely. "Yes," he eventually answered.

"And did you meet anyone in the Forest?"

Hayden's fingers drummed on his Ghost's shell. "Like who?" he asked, trying for a casual tone but missing by a mile.

"Like the Warlock Osiris," replied Aunor bluntly.

Hayden's eyes flitted away as his tapping increased. "Osiris was presumed dead."

"Is that a yes?"

"No one else ever found him. Why would I succeed where Saint-14 failed?"

"You're avoiding the question. Did you, at any point, encounter Osiris in the Infinite Forest?"

Hayden let out a sigh. "...I did."

It looked like Aunor had been right to pursue that line of questioning. "How long were you in the Infinite Forest?"

"Only a few months passed out here."

"And in there?"

"...Three years."

Aunor made sure to note that on her Holopad. "You seemed to have left Mercury and flew directly to the Reef. What prompted you to leave the Forest? And why didn't you return to the Tower once you'd left?"

Hayden's eyes moved to his Ghost again. "I saw Cayde die in the Forest."

The answer sent a chill through Aunor. The Vex's relationship with time would never cease to be unsettling. Her stylus danced across the Holopad's screen. "So you left…"

"To prevent his death." Hayden laughed hollowly. "You can see how that turned out."

Aunor nodded slightly as she read back through her notes. Hayden's claim of not owning the Weapon of Sorrow could still be true, but some of the events in his past prompted a closer look. And then there was the matter of the Drifter. Hayden had obviously met him, judging by the Gambit coin he'd had on him when they brought him in.

Aunor wouldn't put it past the Drifter to encourage the use of Weapons of Sorrow. If he had managed to corrupt Hayden somehow, then Aunor could potentially use it to convince the Vanguard that the Drifter was dangerous and that he needed to be brought in.

"Tell me, Hayden, have you ever had contact with the Drifter?"

Hayden's head snapped up, confusion playing across his face. "Yeah, I just met him today. Why?"

No dice on the corruption then. Still, if he was warned early, it could prevent him from being turned in the future. "Did he tell you about Gambit?"

Hayden's eyes widened slightly. Maybe he hadn't expected her to know about Gambit. "He mentioned it," said the Hunter, "But he never explained what it was."

"It's a game," Aunor told him, "Officially unofficial. And it's dangerous. Guardians would do well to steer clear of it."

"Whatever you say…" Hayden muttered absently. Then his eyes met hers. "Are we done here?"

Aunor nodded. "For now. We'll review your case. You may have to answer more questions in the future. And we'll be keeping you here for the time being."

Hayden sighed, but he didn't seem surprised by it. Aunor rose, picking up her Holopad and crossing to the door. She indicated for Hayden to go first, then she and Sarren escorted him back to his cell. No matter how it would end, Hayden's case still had a long road ahead.

A/N: Writing from Aunor's perspective was definitely different for me, especially since we don't know a lot about her.