Life is good on the open road
We're closer now than we'll ever know
The light inside you comes and goes
But it never really goes out
Life is Good on the Open Road – Trampled by Turtles
?
Awareness came in small parts. Breathing. A tongue stuck to the roof of a mouth. Slight dizziness.
At first, all Azra could do was catalogue what wasn't- she wasn't dead, she wasn't grievously injured, she wasn't buried under rubble.
She wasn't uncomfortable. She was lying on her back, not too cold or too hot, muscles relaxed in the warm glow of sleep. Something soft pillowed her head. Her hands were folded across her stomach, Spark nestled between them. He was just as confused as she was. Together, they recalled- the teleporter, the Step, Ghaul, killing Ghaul, that monstrosity his death had created, the Traveler, the dream-
And nothing more. They'd been caught in the wake of the Traveler's broken cage. They were unconscious, it seemed. Now they were waking up.
They expanded their senses outward. In the distance, there was gunfire and engines, but that was miles away. Closer, there were hushed voices. Laughter. The air still smelled of the gunpowder and burning plastic, but on top of that, there was sweet-smelling woodsmoke and food cooking. Too much light shone through her eyelids; it wasn't night anymore. And in her Lightsense-
That made Azra open her eyes and push herself upright. She was in disbelief- but no, over there a Warlock tangled strings of Void between his fingers playfully. There a Hunter leapt once, twice, pushing themselves off of thin air to reach a third-story balcony.
A small plaza. She was in a small plaza, one cleared of rubble, surrounded by Guardians and the Light was back. The air sang with it. The earth thrummed with it. The universe was alive again.
Someone had noticed her sitting up. "Oh, whoa, she's awake!"
That set off a small bit of pandemonium. People turned and stared. Chatter broke out. A Titan hurriedly barked orders into a comms relay. A Hunter threw herself onto a Sparrow and raced off northwards.
The frantic motions convinced Azra to stand. There could be danger nearby. She didn't know what was happening, but others were rushing about with urgency. She was not taking death sitting down. She managed to stagger to her feet. Nothing was broken, but she was horribly sore. She was bone-tired, for all she'd been asleep a few minutes ago.
An unfamiliar Warlock grabbed her under her elbow. "Sit," she commanded, not unkindly. There was concern in her dark eyes.
"Hell no," Azra said. They were in a warzone, fighting an existential threat. She was not going to lie down and take another nap. "What happened? What's the date?" Vertigo dogged at her but she fought it off. She was ready to fight. She had to be.
The Warlock took a step sideways, blocking her way forward. "We pulled you and your Ghost out of the wreck of Ghaul's capitol ship. It's a miracle you're even alive. Sit, or you'll fall."
"I can stand," Azra protested. To prove her point, she jerked her elbow away (less steady than she would have hoped) and began to stretch. Spark hit her with a scan and reported with surprise that she was, in fact, almost completely unharmed. A few minor abrasions, muscle fatigue, a bit of dehydration. A burst of healing Light fixed the dizziness and most of the aches.
The Warlock wasn't buying it. "I appreciate that you want to help, but seriously. You've been in a coma. Your Ghost was inactive. We're not in mortal danger so can you please sit down so I don't have to explain to the Hunter Vanguard how you fell and cracked open your skull."
"Speak of the devil," the Warlock's Ghost muttered. There, approaching, was the sound of Sparrow engines. Azra was suddenly breathless. Was it Cayde? He'd survived the explosion, then, right? But his arm and his leg- they'd been damaged before the Traveler woke up-
All of the worries vanished when the Sparrow hurtled into the plaza, screeching to a halt a bare half foot from the comms relay. Cayde-6 practically jumped from the vehicle and bounded over (on his two legs, Azra noted). Her new Warlock friend took a step backwards.
"Azra!" Cayde shouted. He collided with the Arcstrider, nearly knocking her over. The two Hunters embraced. Azra felt like laughing. Cayde held her tight, with his two whole arms and his undamaged head and the familiar butterscotch-whiskey taste in his Light.
"You're alright," Azra gasped in relief. He was squeezing too much, she couldn't breathe, but she did not care one bit. "Veera- and Shiro, and Ikora-"
"Fine," Cayde soothed. "Everyone's fine." Their two Ghosts orbited each other, having their own similar conversation. Azra finally relaxed, so giddy with the relief of her anxieties that her vision was blurring with tears.
"Well, not everyone," Cayde amended. He pulled back at arms-length and gave Azra's physical state a thorough scrutinizing. "But all the people you're going to ask about are either alive or still MIA. Contacting all of our wayward Guardians is hard- we're still working on getting the official Net back up. Once we do, there's going to be a search and rescue extravaganza. Until then," he grabbed her by the shoulders and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Chin up. You did it. We won."
"We won," Azra repeated in wonder. We won. "How long-"
"Eight hours," Cayde interrupted. "Since the Traveler woke up. We've swept about two-thirds of the City so far. Cabal command structure kind of broke down, they're not putting up much of a fight." He paused to listen to the gunfire in the distance. "…Much of a fight for Cabal. Stubborn bastards. That's what your Veera is off doing. Everyone who's not fighting is clearing rubble or searching for survivors. The Resistance is really proving their worth on that front. Eva Levante was injured, but she's in good hands back at the Farm. Shiro's back at the Iron Temple- the Fallen are causing more issues there but they're gonna wish they hadn't. Ikora and Zavala should be right behind me…"
Indeed, two Sparrows had pulled into the plaza (albeit at a much more reasonable speed). The Warlock that had helped her stand (Azra would have to learn her name later) seemed mollified by the arrival of the rest of the Vanguard. She nodded to Ikora Rey as the other Warlock dismounted and moved back to her business at a temporary field station.
Commander Zavala approached first. Azra could feel his Light from across the space. (Silver paint, granite cornerstones, and steel worn to a polish.) She figured seeing other Lightbearers was going to be surprising for a while more. She was okay with this.
"Please refrain from starting any Sparrow Racing courses in the City while it is still under construction," the Vanguard Commander said dryly.
Cayde straightened eagerly. "So I can start Sparrow Racing courses in the City after we've rebuilt?" He raised his hands in triumph. "You heart that, right? You heard it." He glanced back and forth between Ikora, who was trying to suppress a smile, and Azra, who'd already given up and hidden her face behind her hand.
Astoundingly, Zavala didn't shut down that idea. "…It is a new day," he said graciously. "Anything is possible."
He turned from a speechless Cayde to address Azra. "Congratulations, Guardian. You won."
"We won," Azra said automatically. "You can't possibly pin this all on me this time. We couldn't have gotten on to the ship without all of you. And Veera did the actual final blow on Ghaul. And there's no way I could have killed him by myself, and…
"And you won," Zavala reiterated.
"I…" Azra said, not knowing what to think.
"She doesn't need the praise, Zavala" Ikora chided. "She has little ego for you to stoke. Say thank you and move on."
"Well, then," Zavala said, clearing his throat and assuming parade rest to hide his embarrassment, "Thank you, Guardian."
Azra hid her own awkwardness by bowing her head and shuffling her feet. "You're… welcome?"
There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence as Titan and Hunter eyed each other.
Thankfully, Cayde was there. "Get a room, you two," he jibed.
It was enough to let Azra move past the topic of conversation. "So… what happens now?" She was so very grateful to not be in charge anymore.
Ikora Rey opened her mouth to speak, but Cayde interrupted. "I'm not done with the sitrep! I didn't even get to the good part yet!"
Azra narrowed her eyes. Everyone was fine, the Light was back, and there was good news on top of that? Something about Cayde's manner was making her wary. "What good part?"
Ikora's eyes were lit up. "I'm sure you'll be interested to-"
"Hup-up," Cayde scolded, waving a hand in urgent dismissal. "I called dibs. Plus, you're not even a Hunter- you're never gonna believe it, Azra." He turned to address the Arcstrider, words suddenly hurried and clipped. He was stumbling over himself in eagerness. "Wait, wait- just stand there, yep, safe distance, nine feet, okay. Now watch this."
And then he did something that left Azra open-mouthed as she struggled to process. He pulled an Arc Staff into existence. Not Blades, not some mock-up made with a metal pole and a tesla coil, but a genuine, actual, physical Staff, just like hers, made from crackling Arc Light. He began waving it around (complete with added vocal sound effects), and all Azra could do was stare.
That's not possible, she thought. That's just not possible. She'd been the only Arcstrider now for centuries. She'd resigned herself to the fact that she'd be the last one, forever.
It's a new day, Spark said in an echo of Zavala's earlier sentiment. Anything is possible.
Was this what she had wanted?
The other you puts a hand on your shoulder. It feels like a low-voltage wire. Tingly. "You want people to understand," you say. "You'd want to trade the fame away for camaraderie."
But this… it was so far out of left field.
She brought her own Staff to hand. It was almost effortless, as usual. She eyed it for a moment, evaluating it, but it felt as it always had. Electrifying, powerful, breathless. The air hummed with two different frequencies. Arc sang through her veins, but she could feel the prickles of another field at the edges of hers.
She performed a slow, lazy, and extremely telegraphed underhand cut at Cayde. He obligingly moved to block it and the two Staves clashed together. The electricity resonated through Azra's entire nervous system. It felt… right. It was the first time she had ever even seen another Arc Staff, but it felt natural.
Cayde playfully jerked back and did a quick overhand strike at her, trying to get her off-guard. She caught his Arc Staff in the bare middle of her own and heaved leftwards, knocking it to the side. Pushing to disengage, she spun roundhouse, whip-quick, and swung at his exposed right side. Her Staff stopped a few inches from his unguarded ribs. Cayde froze in his fumbling attempts to regain his posture.
Azra let the Arc go with a sigh and Cayde did the same. "Still faster than me," he complained (sounding proud, still).
"Well, you weren't a Bladedancer, really," Spark said. "Makes sense you're not much of an Arcstrider, either."
"Is this… is this everyone?" Azra asked.
"Every Hunter," Cayde confirmed. "Well, not everyone. But nobody can seem to find the Blades anymore." He dusted soot from his hands absentmindedly. "And the Warlocks are all running around with flaming swords now. Sylas's itsie-bitsie-teeny-weeny-purple-polka-dot-Ward-of-Dawn is quite popular with the Titans, too."
"Well, I guess… they are the tools that won the war," Azra mused. "The Sunsingers are gone, then, along with the Bladedancers?"
"As the Arcstriders once were," Ikora confirmed. "The world turns. A new day is upon us. All of this time, you were not the last of the old Arcstriders, but the first of a new generation." There was a quiet pride in her voice. She smiled slyly. "Your Light was always leading us to here, to now. Not a relic, but a herald."
"Oh my God," Azra said. Realization was dawning like a horrifying sun. Every Hunter was a new Arcstrider now. "Oh my God. Cayde. I've become Tevis Larsen."
Cayde burst out in laughter. Azra smacked him upside the head and scolded him. "This is not a laughing matter! Do you realize how many Hunters I'm going to have crawling up my butt asking for advice?"
"So go tell them to jump off a cliff or something," Cayde said easily. "That's how Tevis did it."
"The thing is," Spark said. "That's kind of… good advice. Jumping off a cliff."
Zavala cleared his throat again. "I was hoping you might teach some classes. I take it that will not be happening?"
"Classes?" Azra said, horror washing anew. Her, standing in a lecture hall, droning on about philosophy and thaumaturgy and whatever else the Warlocks thought was good conversation material? Was Zavala insane?
Cayde was snickering again. "That's not really how we Hunters do things, Z."
"Every person for themselves," Zavala mused. "Though I suppose you yourself, Azra, have benefitted from a self-taught method."
"I just don't know what I could offer the average Hunter," Azra said. "I was never a Bladedancer. Seems to help people transition, you'd need to understand both sides of the coin. Arcstriding is about making your own path, not following someone else's. Maybe I am better for having to blaze my own trail."
But still.
I've asked Shiro this. I've been on the fence with you. You know what fame's like, you know the kind of people will come calling after you, but all the same. You know what it's like to not be understood. We lose as many new Hunters to rigid doctrine and tunnel vision as we do to the Cabal. I was there for you when you needed someone to listen. I'd like you to be that for others. So many Nightstalkers stumble on their paths.
Talk to people, would you? Share yourself. I know you do a lot of thinking in that head of yours. I know most people don't know how to listen. Make the effort for those who do. They'll surprise you. I've only known you for a sliver of my life and you've made a pretty sizeable impression on me.
"It… wasn't easy at times," she admitted. "I… suppose I could work one-on-one. Occasionally. On the people that should be able to find it, but can't. Or the people that find it too much. But if I try to teach everyone to be me, they're never gonna be themselves."
"That seems reasonable to me," Ikora said.
"I mean, there's so much to do," Azra said. "I've got search-and-rescue ops to run, I've got a planetoid to map, I've got probably about twelve billion patrol beacons to recalibrate-"
"You've got 328 unread messages," Spark interjected.
"The Net is back up?" Cayde exclaimed.
"And lagging horribly," Spark said. "Lots of unsent messages to process, I guess. Let's see here… we have 4 old unread messages from before the Red War. 36 automated updates about bounties and such. 207 messages with people trying to reach you after the first attack. But more recently… 11 test pings. In the last six hours, 35 variations of 'are you awake yet' from Cayde." Both the Ghost and his Guardian turned to stare critically at the Hunter Vanguard.
"I missed ya," he said defensively.
"The Net was down," Azra said. "How was I supposed to even get these?"
"Well, if I got a message back, then I knew you were awake and also that the Net was back up. Two birds with one stone."
Spark rolled his eye and went back to his sorting. "A few dozen old messages from Sylas. A general announcement. And, two hours ago…" He clicked and spun his shell. "That can't be right."
"What?" Azra asked. "What is it?"
"Uh…. maybe better if I just show you," Spark answered.
From: Sylas-4
… (29 unread messages)
4.15.57: I wonder if you'll ever read these, someday.
4.15.57: I'm going to Io to look for answers. I'm not leaving until I get some.
From: TEST CHANNEL
… (8 unread messages)
12:48: Ping. (432 ms)
12:55: Ping. (121 ms)
13:01: Ping. (23 ms)
From: Cayde-6
… (29 unread messages)
11:21: Beep.
11:34: You awake yet?
11:49: How about now?
12:11: How about now?
12:12: You're not a very good conversationalist when you're in a coma.
12:52: Are you awake now?
From: EMERGENCY BEACON (Designation: Vault of Glass cache, Venus)
10:58: This is Praedyth. It has been quite some time it seems. My ship is no longer in orbit.
10:59: I hope your transponder code has not changed.
11:02: Are you alive still? Is Atheon dead?
11:06: It is a beautiful night. Do you have time to catch up with an old teammate?