Entry One : On The Edge of Twilight .
Remembering

"Well, well, well. Look at what we got here!" The Drifter runs his hand across the dust gathered codex entry, trying to contain a sudden need to sneeze from the particles of age in the air. "I see ya now, Twilight. Kept yourself some entries here, huh? Guess the Vanguard pestered you enough for details. And I guess you pestered them enough to keep it away from prying eyes.

Don't worry, sister. Once I know, I'll put it back! … Maybe."

The book opened. Pages worn and threatening to tear from that they needed shifting through with utter care. Upon the wrinkling paper was fading handwriting. Left by the one wanted her life remembering. "For someone who follows Shin around like a Zealot, I'm surprised you wanted this thing just lying about. But a man gotta do what he needs to know the truth! Now… How did you go from being such a sought after Dredgen by Shin, to becoming someone he trusts more than himself?"

I don't remember much about… Before. You know… The life a lot of us had before waking up with what felt to be in a completely different body. We were stronger, faster. We were able to do… Anything. But only because of the machines that follow us; the Ghosts. The one's that individually chose who it wanted to bring back.

I don't remember an afterlife. Or dreaming of being somewhere Beyond before being rudely woken up like we were just having another dream within out nightly sleep. I don't even remember originally dying, or how. But I was young… I don't think I'm any older than my mid-twenties. And that will never change now. Because this thing that follows me won't let me.

What I do remember was the first thing I saw when I was brought back. The Traveller. Just hanging silently in our own sky. Yet it came with the presence of a God. And I felt its Light. An unfamiliar essence of strength now within my body. Though I didn't know at the time, I was a Nightstalker. A Hunter. And it showed with my new agility.

I remember seeing my reflection in a piece of shattered glass that surrounded me among the aged debris. My hair silver, and my eyes glowing a lime green. My skin fair and pale, but did not glow like it would with other Awoken I would meet on my travels.

But my name… What was my name? There was nothing on me but torn clothes that had dried from the passing of several years. And so that was it. Silver I was to call myself.

/"It took me forever to find you!"/

It scared the hell out of me to know that these Ghosts of ours talk too. Problem with mine is that he never shut up.

/"Why would you call me that...?"/

"Talks A Lot? I thought it was self-explanatory."

He ended up guiding me to what we know as the Vanguard these days. It was still in its youth. Hell, the Tower most of us know as home had yet to be built or established as bait. And there was no Zavala, or Ikora, or Cayde back then… I don't even remember the names of the original Vanguard. And back then, we weren't even called Guardians. We were known as the "Risen". But the Lightless, normal people to most, used us for their protection. Something the Vanguard stood proudly upon doing.

I remember whispers floating around. Of how a small town beyond the Traveller, called Palamon, had recently been attacked by Fallen. I had no idea what the hell they were. Literal aliens, who would have thought? But I was reborn into a time known as the Dark Age. The Traveller slumbered, and its enemies assaulted Earth like it was their new playground, all because they wanted their "Great Machine" back.

Humanity was a remnant now. Most of the planet had succumbed to its attackers and us Risen pushed back.

/"So it goes like this. You pick a weapon and you use it against the bad guys!"/

If only it was never anything more than bad guys… But I knew what was going on here. I was being involuntarily inducted into this young Vanguard. And it always starts with just picking a weapon. Nothing stood out to me, even though there wasn't much back then to begin with. But I saw a bow and a sword. It was something I already felt familiar with.
From here on out, it was to be placed into a team of two others and do whatever the Vanguard ordered. Took some time, but new Risen flocked to the Vanguard every day. And I then found my new Fireteam.

"K9-2, lassy." Our Titan. Striker. Loved to throw himself into enemies quite literally. And he was an Exo. Humanity has conscious robots now, apparently. That didn't sit right with me.

"Seleste. Warlock, obviously." Yeah, and like most of them, Seleste looked down at most of us like peasants. She was Awoken, and loved her Nova Bomb. I remember her illuminating blue eyes and hair to match. If space elves were ever imagined in the past, Awoken is the best way to envision it.

So they were my Fireteam now. I never expected to ever see them more as that but… the two became my family, in time. We became one of the most requested Fireteam's to embark into Strikes the Vanguard ordered. Nothing felt better than hunting down a big bad guy and putting them down. And in my boisterous ways, I always tried to run ahead of them. Something I came to regret at a later time…

Few years went by. Had nothing but the Fallen to play with most of the time. Gotta admit, their baby Eliksni's were… kinda cute. Never had the heart to put a bullet through them. But this was when we also heard news of the chaos that came to Palamon. And it wasn't by the Fallen again.

"Jaren is dead?"

Just those three words. It was all anybody was asking. I remember the man. Jaren Ward. Also a risen and a fellow Hunter, but mainly a man of sympathy and care. I only ever saw him a handful of times, but from my knowledge, he protected Palamon fiercely with that hand canon of his he carried at his hip with him.
With K9-2 and Seleste, we were asked to go to Palamon and investigate. But whatever happened to that town was not caused by the Fallen. There was no damage to the buildings; no scattered Ether remains that would leave their bodies upon death. The town was empty but it reeked of death.

"Someone with the Light did this." I remember saying. "Someone who no longer follows it."

We did not find Jaren that day, or anybody. Not even the apparent sole survivor from the attack. His death was only confirmed to us when someone had found his dead body, and yet there were no remains of his Ghost. Even then, I wondered if the person who killed was the one who spared the Ghost, as a gesture of mockery to the rest of us. Without our Ghosts, if we die, we die for good again.

And my thoughts landed upon the hand canon he carried with him. There was no report of any weapons being found. How that would later come back to haunt me…

/"Cull and Hope is here."/

"Already? Dammit, I just started writing…"

/"Does Vale know you're writing these events?"/

"Damn, sister. Some deep writing here! I remember now… Yeah. That was our little converging day in regards to it getting harder to weed out the real Shadows. Ah, but if I knew what you three were planning that day, I'm betting Callum would still be crewing with us…"