Minerva's first thought upon stepping off the lift on level 119 was that it was oddly dim and quiet. No one seemed to be around, not even the cats. It was the first part of the Tower she'd been in that had an air of abandonment about it.

Lev drifted a bit closer to Min's shoulder as she turned right and started through the gloom. "I don't like this," he said.

"It's just Kalina," Minerva told him. "And we're still in the Tower. It's not like we're about to walk into an ambush."

"'It's just Kalina', she says." Lev's oculus lit up, brightening their path. "Haven't you noticed? Whenever we run into Kalina, we get shot at?"

"Outside the Tower," she said, taking the next right. "I'm pretty sure Guardians get shot at a lot whenever they're outside the Tower."

She took a left, and halfway down the final hallway she noticed a pool of light. Binky was hovering just outside of some kind of covering hanging on the wall. When the Ghost spotted them, she zipped over, halting when she was fewer than six inches away.

"Who goes there?" she demanded.

Min and Lev exchanged a look. "We do?" Minerva said.

"'We', and 'Do'. Such unusual names," Binky said.

"Why are you being ridiculous?" Lev asked her. "This is nonsense."

From further down the hall, behind that covering or whatever it was, Kalina's muffled voice sang out: "'A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men'."

"If there's going to be singing, I'm out," Lev told Minerva.

"It's Minerva and Lev," Min said to Binky, who blinked her oculus and looked over at the other Ghost.

"You got a name? That's wonderful!"

"Ahem!" This was from Kalina again, behind the covering.

"Oh, right. Sorry." She looked menacingly at Minerva again, which-being a Ghost- wasn't even remotely menacing. "What is the password?"

"You didn't give us a password, Kalina," Minerva called. There was a faint giggle.

"That is correct!" Binky said, and turned. "Follow me."

She bobbed back over to the covering and as Min followed, she asked, "You made the password 'you didn't give us a password?'"

The covering on the wall turned out to be an old woven blanket that had a cartoon beast on it, a horse with a single horn. It was wearing a rainbow as a shawl.

"No," Kalina said, sweeping the blanket aside with one hand and reaching out with a grin. She caught Minerva's hand and pulled her forward. "I made the password 'you didn't give us a password, Kalina'."

The old blanket had been hiding a door, which Kalina now pulled Minerva through, the two Ghosts following. As soon as she'd stepped in, the Hunter shut the door again. "Welcome to my lair," she beamed at Minerva, turning and spreading her arms out as if presenting a vast and glorious vista.

The room looked as if it had, at one time, been a large shop. It was lit with various colored lights hung on wires. A few stars that looked as if they were made out of tin dangled from the ceiling and flashed tiny diamonds, rubies, and sapphires of color around.

A pair of patched and well-worn looking sofas, and a handful of squashy, battered chairs clustered around a rigged-up vis-screen that almost dominated one of the walls. There were cobbled together shelves everywhere, leaning and warped and bent under the weight of hundreds of books and knickknacks. There was a small engram-decoder, similar to the one Holliday had used in the hangar, to one side. Beside it was an oddly beautiful but strangely mystifying contraption. It glimmered with colored lights, and silver bubbles could be seen flashing up tubes that lined it.

A wide variety of carpet remnants that had been loosely stitched together covered the floor. In fact, everything in the room looked like it had been salvaged and put together piecemeal.

"What is this place?" Lev asked, unable to keep the wonder out of his voice as he slowly spun around.

"I call it my 'Patchwork Den'," Kalina said, gesturing at the carpeting. "Do you like?"

"Some of this stuff is so old," he replied, moving closer to the odd bubbly contraption.

"All of it's old," Binky said. "All of it is pre-Traveler."

"Pre-Traveler?" Minerva echoed. She, too, was gaping around in wonder.

"Yeah," Kalina said proudly. "I've been collecting it since I was Lightborn. Most of it I found in the archives. Some of it in the field but only here on Earth. I've rigged up the vis-screen and the jukebox to play PT music and videos."

"Jukebox?" Minerva asked. Kalina grabbed her hand again with a grin and drew her over to the bubbling contraption. On the front, it had a clear glass panel that held yellowed and illegible cards that, once upon a time, may have had writing on them. When the Hunter touched the glass, however, a modern project-display menu appeared on it, hovering in the glass.

Kalina selected one, and a moment later music started to play. It was soft and pretty, a girl's voice singing about rainbows, and lullabies.

"I have over three thousand PT songs and albums," Kalina said. "Millions of books and magazines. I'm up to six thousand videos. I keep my favorites in physical form rather than digital."

She gestured at her shelves. Minerva moved closer to one, and pulled down a book. There was an odd etching of the sun on the cover, along with unfamiliar symbols. Almost the instant she pulled it down, Lev drew closer. A faint green light shimmered over the cover of the book, and suddenly Cyrillic symbols appeared above the strange ones.

Min read it. "Watership Down? What's that?"

"It's about rabbits," Kalina grinned with a faint wrinkle to her nose. "I like it a lot, it's quite clever."

Min curiously began to page through the book, Lev shining a translation over the pages as she sifted. "Why are you showing us this?" she asked, looking up a moment later.

"You wanted to know why I say odd things. What a 'Super Bowl' is, an 'egghead', that kind of thing. Well, this is why. It's all PT culture. No one but me really seems to have much of an interest in it, but I love it. A lot of it is so much fun."

"Do you think you may be from the years pre-Traveler?" Lev asked, without turning away from his translating. "Could that be why you have an interest?"

"Nah," Kalina told him. "I couldn't be from PT- I don't think. I'm Awoken. We didn't show up until the Collapse. Something happened- I'm not terribly clear on what- to some humans when the Darkness arrived and the Collapse began. Whatever it was, it turned us Awoken. And the Golden Age lasted centuries before the Collapse, so…"

She shrugged, having made enough of her point.

Min was still studying the book in her hands, fascinated. "Would I be able to borrow this?" she asked, and Kalina grinned.

"I knew you'd get it," she said. "Here."

She went over to one of the decoders, pulling something up on the display. On the pad, a book almost identical to the one in Min's hand glimmered into being. This time, the title was in Cyrillic by default.

Kalina traded it for the one in Min's hand. "That should be a bit easier for you to read. Keep it. You have any interest in finding out more?"

"I would definitely be open to that," Minerva said, holding the new book close.

"Great! I'm going to get you two into PT culture if it kills me. I got some booze over there, behind the table. Get yourself something to drink; we're gonna watch some movies."

Minerva went to the table and dug out some beers from a small cooler that Kalina had apparently salvaged for the purpose, as the Hunter began playing with the vis-screen. At her friend's indication Min sat down on the squashy, tattered sofa directly in front of it, tucking the book away beside her and then handing Kalina one of the beers as she joined her.

Min almost forgot the beer as the first movie unfolded, initially fascinated with the low-tech atmosphere and imagery, and then with the story itself. It started as an older man telling a story to his ailing grandson, that story then unfolding as well in front of their eyes. Swords and duels, giants and riddles, a quest for vengeance and true love- Minerva couldn't tell what exactly about it fascinated her so much. One thing was certain though; from the first few minutes she was hooked.

The second was entirely different but no less amazing and just as fun to watch. It had to do with a group of people meeting mysteriously at a mansion, presenting fake names, and then having to guess who committed the murder of a man who had apparently been blackmailing them. In the end, everything was turned on its head and who you thought the murderer was turned out to be right (no matter who you suspected), but the identity of the blackmailer was what turned out to be the real mystery- one you didn't even know you were trying to solve.

It was almost through this second one that Min realized a small portion of why it was fascinating. The actors had been dead for centuries. They had no idea of what waited for them or for their species. When these movies were made, they had no clue that alien life existed, that one day their entire civilization would be reduced to a single City and small nomad tribes just trying to stay alive. They were, as far as they were concerned, the masters of the universe and everything in it. No Awoken, no Exo, nobody around (as far as they knew) but humans.

Now, no one even knows that they existed, that these stories were even told- except those of us in this little patchwork den right now.

She spent most of both movies leaning forward on the couch, staring at the screen with wide eyed wonder or laughing along with the characters regarding the absurdities the tale presented. Afterward, she and Kalina talked over what they liked most about each story, picking apart serious metaphor only moments after quoting lines at each other they felt were particularly funny. Even Lev and Binky joined in, and for the first time since she'd been Lightborn, Minerva felt like herself. Not a guardian, not a Titan, not a Lightborn with no memory beyond waking on that snow-sleeted road. She was still learning what being 'herself' even meant, but right now, she at least felt like she had some idea.

After she returned to her tiny little room (with an open invitation from Kalina to visit the Patchwork Den and avail herself of the books, music, and movies whenever she wanted), she read three chapters of the rabbit book before she finally started to fall asleep. Her dreams danced with sword fighters, suspicious but colorful party-goers, and sensible rabbits just looking for a new start.


It wasn't until Minerva woke up the next morning that she realized she'd never asked Kalina about Dredgen Yor. Ikora and Cayde's overheard conversation had completely vacated her mind the instant she stepped into the Patchwork Den.

She cleaned up and then wandered out of her room, wondering if Kalina was still in the Tower or if she had gone off back into the field again. Min was still was forbidden from returning to the Crucible just yet, but that was all right. She wanted to find those archives that Gen-11 had mentioned and do some reading. Devouring part of the rabbit book the night before had awakened something in those dark shadows of her past before being Lightborn; she had an intense, almost insatiable desire to read, to learn. She wanted to consume whole libraries, to go back to the Den and feast on everything that was there.

Barely had she left her room, however, than a Frame was approaching her.

"Minerva Titan, confirm identity?" it asked her in its bleary monotone.

"Confirmed," she said, pausing with a confused knit to her brows.

"The Speaker requests your presence. Please follow."

The Frame turned and started off down the corridor. Curious, Min began to follow.

She'd heard of the Speaker, of course. He was the head of the Consensus, the 'ruling body' of the last City. He wasn't a Guardian but lived as they did in the Tower. From what she understood, he had some kind of a mask that allowed him to speak- in limited fashion- to the Traveler. He was ostensibly the Traveler's voice to the Tower and the people of the Last City; hence his title.

What he wanted with Min, however, she did not understand; any more than she understood how someone could 'speak' to the Traveler if it was dead.

The Frame lead them up a set of stairs to an open and comfortable room with a spectacular view of the Traveler. It had the feel of a library, with physical books and papers filling shelves and littered across several tables. Bent over one, writing, was a thin man wearing a hooded white robe. Stooped as he was, he gave an impression of age and frailty. When he straightened and turned as the Frame reported her presence, that impression vanished. He may be old, but this man was not frail.

The mask, it seemed, was not rumor. It covered his face completely, simple and inscrutable. She could not see if he was Awoken, Exo, or human.

"Ah, Minerva Anasova. Finally, we get the chance to meet," he said, and offered her his hand. She took it and found his grip was surprisingly strong.

"My pleasure, sir," she said.

"We'll see if that is true or not," he told her, then folded his arms. "You may not think it such a pleasure after we finish our conversation. First, however, let's talk of your progress. I hear you had a successful first day in the field."

"I would say so, sir."

"In your line of work, Guardian, almost any day where you, your fireteam, and those under your protection come through intact is a successful day. I'm glad to hear it. Zavala believes you are ready for full time fieldwork. It's something of a tradition for a Guardian to come and speak with me when they reach that point. I wanted to give you this."

He turned and picked up a folded length of white cloth off of the nearby table, and held it out to her. She took it, gingerly unfolding it. A rampant lion was embroidered on it in gold threading. It was a Titan mark.

"Thank you, sir," she said. "I am honored."

"You are a Guardian," he replied. "It is we, who live and breathe each day thanks to your kind, who are honored."

Minerva had no idea how to respond to this, so she just regarding the mark in her hands for a very long moment before finally looking at him. "Was there something else, sir?"

She could not see it, but she heard the smile in his voice. "Yes, as a point of fact. I'm afraid my meeting you here as two purposes. The first you know. The second…" he trailed off a moment, then said. "You are aware that it is forbidden to Guardians to seek out their past; to delve into who they were before they were Lightborn?"

"Yes, I was told as much," Minerva said, feeling suddenly nervous. "And I have no wish to break that rule. However, the Vanguard said they were going to look into it."

"Yes, because of the return of one of our prodigals, and her interesting reaction to you" he said thoughtfully.

"Sir, did they- "

He shook his head gently. "No. As far as I am aware, they have not yet learned anything regarding your life before. It seems even our prodigal cannot explain herself on this matter. That said, the Vanguard have received troubling news, and Eris says she has related information to impart, and asked that you be here. She seems to feel your presence is vital."

Minerva suppressed a sudden urge to grimace, and silently berated herself for the response. Eris Morn made her viscerally uneasy, but had done nothing to earn such a reaction.

As if on cue, the Speaker's door opened and the three Vanguard entered. Close on their heels, as if she had become a singular shadow shared by the three, swept Eris Morn.

"Guardian, thank you for-" Zavala began, only to be interrupted by Cayde as the Hunter looked her over.

"There's something different," he said. "Did you get taller? You look taller. New boots? New belt? I can't put my finger on it."

Before Minerva could say anything, Eris moved past the rest. Her clothing was new, no longer a tatter of stained and musty rags. Heavy black robes fell from pointed shoulders, and she wore a strange, peaked cowl. On her chest was a leather breastplate, studded with metal and bearing the symbol of an odd four petaled flower. Every inch of her skin was covered save her mouth and nose; her strangely glowing triple eyes were still obscured behind a length of black linen, weeping odd ebony mists down her chin. Whether it was from the light of those eldritch eyes or the glowing ball she held in one hand, her skin also seemed to have a faint greenish swamp-fire tinge about it. Within the ball, Min could see a dark wedge of something suspended in its depths; stone, perhaps.

Once again, Minerva found herself resisting the urge to take a step backward as Eris closed in on her, in total disregard to personal space. The hand not cradling the luminescent ball reached out and closed on her forearm, then drifted up to her upper arm, gripping there tightly as she leaned up. For one brief, startling moment, Minerva was certain that Eris meant to kiss her- or bite her- and she wasn't sure which one horrified her the most.

Eris did neither, instead speaking. "You," she said. "Thank you."

"For what?" Minerva said, still leaning back, about a moment away from pulling Eris's hand off her arm. Her skin was crawling.

"For the things you have done, and the things you will do; for things I have no memory of, yet somehow know. I- "

"Eris, give her some room," Zavala said, and Cayde proved that, somehow, Exos could smirk.

"Or get a room," he added.

Eris looked back at him a moment, almost sullenly, before she slowly released Minerva's arm and moved back a few paces. "I am sorry," she said to Minerva. "I do not know why I am-…you are somehow like a favorite childhood song that yet eludes my memory. I cannot describe it."

"It is my belief that Eris possibly knew you, Titan," Ikora said. "Before either of you were Lightborn. Though we cannot be certain."

"You remember nothing clearly?" The Speaker asked the strange woman. "About the Titan?"

"No. It is all…feeling. Instinct. I have no memory of her face, and yet…" She looked back at Minerva, but thankfully drew no closer. "Your hair. You have changed it. I cannot see it in my memory, but I feel certain that this is how your hair was…before."

This rocked Minerva to the core. Her hair hadn't felt right, hadn't felt her before. She couldn't really say why, but when Lev was helping her with it last night, and she started to braid it, it was as if she had done the same motions every day for years. After she was done, for the first time, the reflection in the mirror had seemed like her. It had been a bit jarring. Lev had mistaken her reaction for being concerned as to whether or not she looked nice. To hear the same about her hair from this curious woman was both mystifying and somehow horrifying.

"This is all very interesting, but it's not why we're here," Zavala said.

"No," Ikora agreed. "We're here because Eris believes the Hive may be on Earth."