"...The sudden appearance of this order is what troubles me." Zavala crossed his arms.

Lethia shifted, unsure of what to do next. "Commander, the orders given are clear. I'm to head to the Reef and -"

"Provide support to a Guardian currently stationed there." Zavala pursed his lips. "Meaning Ferral."

Lethia's gaze dropped to the floor. This had seemed like it was too good to be true, but she missed Ferral so badly that she wanted to believe it.

It was at this moment that Cayde-6 made his way to the command center with his usual swagger. "Hey guys. What'd I miss?

Ikora rolled her eyes at her compatriot and slid a datapad across the table. "Cayde, I swear that one day, your tardiness will be the death of us all. Lethia reported back from her deployment in Old Russia. She has new deployment orders for the reef, but there's nothing that indicates an encryption signature from one of us." She looked to her student. "Lethia, I know how badly you'd like to go out there. But, as it stands, if we can't resolve this, I'm afraid we can't authorize your..."

She was interrupted by a chuckle from Cayde.

"As I was saying..." Ikora tried to continue, but Cayde's laughter grew, much to the chagrin of his fellow Vanguard commanders. As he finally calmed down, he typed away on his pad.

"Cayde, what are you doing?" Zavala had unfurled his arms, his brows now furrowed.

Cayde finished typing as his shoulders shook. "Oh, I'm sorry Zavala. I guess I forgot my signature on that order when I put it out this morning." One of his eyes dimmed as he winked at Lethia. "My bad."

Lethia's heart was suddenly awash with a surge of joy. She snapped up almost immediately. "So that means..."

Zavala grumbled. "Yes, that means you are cleared for dispatch to the Reef. See shipwright Holiday for any resupply you may need and head out. Good luck, Guardian."

Ikora sidled her way to Cayde, nudging him in the ribs.

"What?" The Exo looked up.

"Ophiuchus did a thorough analysis of of that order. You and I both know that you didn't make it." She whispered.

Cayde chuckled. "Hey, I may be a robot, but that don't mean I've got no heart." He stopped. "Well..."

Ikora's eyes rolled. "So you're willing to take the fall so she can..." She paused. "What, see her boyfriend?"

"I've been getting reports from Banner. Made 'im promise to keep me up-to-date on Ferral. Otherwise he might get a little too 'Night,' not enough 'Stalker,' if you catch my drift."

"And?" Ikora pressed.

"It's getting rough. Apparently Ferral was attacked the other day by a Sniper, and there's been talk of how to kill a Ghost that Banner's picked up on." He shrugged. "Put it like this, I'd have made that order in a few day's time anyhow."

Ikora let a slight smile grace her lips. "He needs his partner."

Cayde returned the grin. "He needs his partner."

Reefedge City was eerily quiet as Lethia disembarked from her ship. The Taken had attacked only living things. Buildings stood pristine and empty, the goods still in the shop windows. Vehicles lined the streets, abandoned by their owners. There weren't even any bodies of the slain. The city was simply empty.

The Dasa compound lay at the city's western end, up on a forested hill. The buildings resembled a palace, with graceful, sweeping lines, several towers, and beautifully maintained grounds within a ten foot fence.

Lethia approached the gates and spoke to the security speaker beside them. "Hello, I'm here to see Kymil Elvaris."

"Identify yourself," replied a cautious male voice.

Lethia glared at the speaker. "Guardian Lethia Mar. I've been dispatched by the Vanguard."

"One minute." The guard made her wait nearly ten. Lethia had time to ponder whether to blast the gate down, or simply jump over it with her Light powers.

"He agrees to meet with you," the guard finally said, sounding unwilling. One of the gates clicked and swung open. Lethia walked through and followed a long gravel drive through the park-like grounds toward the main building.

"I've heard this place is amazing inside," she told Niki. "They used to give tours once a year. The Dasas collected all kinds of art and rare goods from the different planets. I imagine it's all still there."

Niki, safely phased, replied in her head, "The Taken certainly weren't interested in material goods. Only minds. That poor city is just ... sitting there."

"I know," Lethia thought. "It makes me sick, seeing it that way. All those people. Gone."

She neared the main building, which resembled a castle, with narrow windows and arched doorways. As she approached the front door, it opened. A man in a servant uniform held it for her, gazing straight ahead, showing her neither courtesy nor discourtesy.

"And this is how much the Awoken hate Guardians," she thought to Niki.

She entered a lavishly decorated front room with halls branching in four directions. Ornate stone vases and statues on plinths competed with paintings on the walls that hearkened back to before Earth's Golden Age. A broad staircase spiraled toward the second floor. Slowly descending the staircase, flanked by two Fallen warriors, was Ferral.

Lethia stared at him in dismay. This was not the Hunter she had snubbed on Mars. This was Kymil Elvaris Dasa, dressed in a black suit trimmed with crimson. His white-streaked hair was neatly trimmed, and he moved with stately grace, befitting the last of the Dasas. He descended the stairs one step at a time, his pale eyes fixed somewhere above her head.

"What's happened to him?" she thought to Niki.

"He's playing the role," Niki replied.

Ferral reached the foot of the stairs and approached her, extending a hand. "Welcome, Guardian. I appreciate your assistance."

Nervously, Lethia took his hand. It was hot and sweaty, as if the suit was far too warm. Then she looked into his eyes and saw the controlled desperation there.

"Please accompany me to my office," he said, turning toward the stairs. The two Fallen guards regarded Lethia balefully, but fell into step behind the Guardians as they climbed the stairs.

"Welcome to the Dasa compound," Ferral said, gesturing. "Home of the Dasa clan since our emergence from the Distributary. I've brought you in as extra security during a corporate reshuffling period." In a whisper, he added, "Play along."

Lethia glanced at the guards, whose four eyes held no expression. Their insignia marked them as House of Wolves, the only Fallen House loyal to Queen Mara Sov. But without the Queen, how friendly were they to the Awoken at all?

"I understand, sir," she said in a clear voice for anyone to hear. "The Vanguard sends their regards. I understand you're helping rebuild the Reef?"

"In a manner of speaking," Ferral replied. He glanced at her sideways, sweat gleaming on his forehead. "Times are hard for our people. We need all the help anyone will give us."

It wasn't only the Awoken who needed help, Lethia thought.

They arrived on the second story landing. The stairs continued upward for another flight. Beneath their shadow was a pair of double doors engraved with graceful geometric patterns. Ferral went to these and opened one. He motioned for Lethia to enter, then spoke to the guards. "Remain outside, please."

The aliens nodded and took up positions on either side of the door. Ferral closed the door and bolted it, locking the two Guardians inside, alone.

Then he turned to Lethia, threw his arms around her, and buried his face in her neck. She felt him shaking.

"Lethia," he whispered over and over. "Lethia. You're here. You're finally here."

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, willing the shaking to subside. "It's all right," she whispered. "I'm here. I won't leave you again." She nuzzled his hair, his cheek, pressing her lips to his skin. He smelled clean, but the clothes had given him an unfamiliar aroma - the vaguely perfumed scent of aristocracy.

He stroked her hair and kissed her neck, as if he could communicate his agony of loneliness through touch. "You have no idea what it's been like," he whispered. "Someone tried to kill me once already. I've been so - so alone -"

"I'm here," Lethia whispered, stroking the streaks in his hair. He was so utterly vulnerable at that moment, so raw and open, that her black, protective anger began to build inside. Someone had hurt Ferral, threatened him, left him trembling in her arms like this. Her inner Void Light began to burn. Her arms tightened around him, pulling him closer, as if she could shelter him in her embrace. "I'm here, and I'm going to kill whoever did this to you."

He pulled away and looked at her, his golden eyes red-rimmed and watery. "Is it wrong that I think that's the most wonderful thing you've ever said?" He tugged at his tight collar, made a disgusted sound, then stripped off the red and black suit coat. He flung it on a nearby chair. "I hate these clothes!" He turned back to Lethia, now in a white button-up shirt, and cupped her face in both hands. "My darling Lethia. Thank you for coming."

She stroked his face, too, smoothing his eyebrows, tracing the birthmark on his forehead. "I've wanted to see you again since about two seconds after you left. And I'm serious. Whoever has done this to you will die."

He laughed weakly. "It's every single one of my employees. They all hate me. Any one of them would gladly have pulled the trigger."

Lethia had a moment to glance around the office. It was a whole suite, with a desk, chair and cabinets in the front room. Other doors opened to the left and right, showing living quarters. The walls were engraved stone, with more expensive paintings here and there. Alcoves on either side of every door displayed huge chunks of glimmering blue crystal.

Ferral followed her gaze. "Impressive, isn't it? This was my second-eldest brother's quarters. Delsaran offered me my father's office, but it's even more pretentious than this place."

She turned back to him and took his hand. "How are you, really? Your letters didn't tell me everything."

He covered their joined hands with his other. He stood there a moment, gazing at their hands with a pensive look, as if debating what to tell her.

"Fer," she whispered, "you can be honest with me. I'm on your side one hundred percent."

He smiled and blinked rapidly, his eyes filling with tears. "You don't know ... it's been so long ... Leth, I'm exhausted. And I can't kick this depression. Some days I can barely get out of bed. Banner can't heal it."

"Are you sleeping well?"

"No. I'm almost as bad off as I was in the shack in the woods. But now I have to hide it."

Lethia studied his face, his downcast eyes. Through their joined hands, she felt his Light. It wavered strangely, different from when she had begun treating him.

"Ferral," she said, "when they shot you ... what kind of weapon was it?"

"Some kind of rifle," Ferral said. "I heard the report, then I was on the ground, dying. I didn't have much time for analysis."

"Banner, did you notice anything?"

Banner appeared, his green shell gleaming like jade. "What are you driving at, Lethia? It was a bullet wound. Large caliber. I've healed that kind before."

Lethia bit her lip. "Ferral, you're eaten up with Darkness inside. Your Light is ..." She almost said Taken. "... strange. Worse than unstable. Have you heard voices?"

"No," he said, head bowed. "Only the sadness. Here." He touched his chest. "Huge, crushing sadness. Nothing changes it."

She drew a deep breath. "Do you want me to work on you now? It'll put you to sleep."

Ferral looked as if she had promised him heaven. "Sleep! I wish I could sleep for days. But I have a pile of work to do this afternoon." He pointed at the desk, where stacks of papers awaited him.

Lethia squeezed his hand. "I'll help you. Show me what to do."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in reading reports, signing work orders and shipping manifests. Lethia read and Ferral signed. It was tedious, quiet work, but Lethia found that she didn't mind. After freezing in Old Russia, sitting in that expansive office was like a vacation.

With Ferral. His very presence comforted her, relaxed that tight place in her heart. Apart, she worried about him constantly. But now, here he was, within reach.

Her presence had the same effect on him. Often she looked up to see him studying her, or felt his hand on her arm. He had to reassure himself, over and over, that she was really there.

After a while, Lethia sat back and summoned Niki. "Hey, could you read these and summarize them?"

"Sure," Niki said. "Turn the pages for me."

Lethia did, paging through an eighteen-page report as quickly as she could. When she finished, Niki said, "The accountant at Dome Twelve is embezzling."

Ferral straightened. "What." But the tired way he said it showed he'd suspected something of the sort.

Niki explained the numbers given in the report, coming up with a substantial shortfall masked by percentages and purposefully vague reporting.

Ferral sat back in his chair, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. When Niki finished, he said, "See what I put up with? Every single company is rife with corruption."

"So sell them off," Lethia said. "Who says you have to keep every one of them? Or any? You could dump it all and go back to being a Guardian."

He gazed at her a long moment through layers of exhaustion. "I think, if I could sleep and recover, I'd have the nerve to do that."

"Come on, then." Lethia rose from her chair. "I may have to work on your Light for quite a while."

Lethia sat in a chair beside Ferral's huge bed. He lay on the bed, eyes shut, holding her hand. In her other hand, she held his ghost. Between them, she had a stereo sense of their Light.

When Ferral had escaped the Dreadnaught, he had brought with him a pall of fear that had eclipsed his connection with the Traveler. Lethia had spent lots of time trying to stabilize his spark's wild fluctuations. That pall was still there.

But something new had crept in. As Lethia used her own Void Light to stabilize his and Banner's sparks, she touched something else within Ferral's soul. Sticky, shapeless Darkness slithered inside him. It encircled his spark, trying to strangle it, trying to cut him off from the Traveler's power forever.

"Ferral," she whispered, "I think ... what do you know about the Taken?"

He opened his eyes and gave her a nervous look. "Do I want to know why you're asking?"

"Just ... what do you know?"

He gazed at the ceiling. "They're living beings who have been consumed by Darkness. Most have their free will stripped away. Some don't."

Lethia hesitated to ask the next question. "How does ... Taking ... work?"

Ferral's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "It feeds on desire. You have to want."

Lethia didn't have to close her eyes to feel the Darkness chewing on Ferral's soul. "What do you want?"

He looked at her, his gaze full of tenderness. "All I want is you."

As he said the words, the Darkness clawed at his spark. Ferral's Light dimmed. He drew a harsh breath and his eyes unfocused.

Lethia snarled and lashed it with her Void Light. "I don't know where you came from or what you are, but you get out of him this instant!" She honed her Light into a spear and drove it through the Darkness.

It swirled apart into flying patches and rags, but she couldn't purge them all. Ferral's spark flared up and burned steadily.

He groaned. "Whatever you did ... I feel better."

Lethia released his hand and ghost, and slumped back in her chair, panting. "Ferral, I know Guardians can't be Taken. But some Darkness thing inside you is trying damn hard."

"I felt it," he said. "And I felt when you hit it. Is it gone?"

"No," Lethia said angrily. "It retreated, that's all. I think it'll take both of us to kill it. And you have to stop wanting. It's feeding off that."

"As long as you're here," Ferral said, "I'll want for nothing."

She leaned forward and stroked his face. "I hope that's true. Rest."

"I think ... I could, now." He smiled at her, then rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket over himself. Banner settled himself on the pillow beside his head.

In the minute it took Lethia to rise and tiptoe out of the room, Ferral was already snoring.

Lethia paced around the outer office, her mind churning with disparate thoughts. She held out a hand. "Niki?"

The ghost appeared, his yellow shell a flash of color in the dim room.

"What are we dealing with, here?" she asked. "Ferral has some kind of Darkness entity in him. Is it from his time on the Dreadnaught?"

Niki flew in circles, thinking. "When we treated him back in the forest shack ... he was sick, then. Banner said he was insane, remember? His Light was unstable."

"I remember," Lethia replied. "But I don't remember there being this ... thing in there, interfering."

Niki faced her, his blue eye concerned. "Do you think it had something to do with when he was shot? Banner thought there were Darkness weapons around here."

Lethia pulled out her sidearm and checked the magazine, just to give her hands something to do. "When I was training in the Tower, people were telling this story about a dark Guardian named Dregden Yor. His gun, Thorn, fired a projectile that could extinguish a Guardian's spark. Apparently, someone had found it, and Banshee was taking it apart. But ... what if there's other weapons like that? And what if someone shot Ferral with one?"

"He should have died," Niki pointed out. "It should have quenched his spark."

"But he didn't die from the bullet," Lethia pointed out. "It only wounded him. Maybe it would have ended him if he had died. Instead, he's ... poisoned. With this ... Darkness fragment. And it's trying to kill him or Take him, I can't tell which."

"It amounts to the same thing," Niki muttered.

Lethia paced back and forth. The opulent office with its glittering, otherworldly stones in the wall alcoves seemed like a sprung trap. Poor Ferral was caught in its teeth, pinned between duty and ravenous Darkness. Someone wanted him dead, probably so they could take over the Dasa holdings.

All she wanted to do was step into that space where he was weakest and defend him.

"I need to find out what weapon they used," she said. "And to do that, I need to know who used it. Better phase, Niki. I'm going to find the high and mighty Delsaran and ask a few questions."