A/N: I honestly had so much fun writing this. Thank god I finished most of my work ahead of time.
As Rhylan felt his boots dig into the wet snow of the mountaintop, he took off his helmet and - for the first time in more than a year - breathed in the cold air of Felwinter's Peak. The Titan could see that not much had changed for the mountaintop since the end of the SIVA Crisis; save for a few munitions and supply crates bearing Crucible markings Vostok was deserted, and Rhylan could not help but feel grateful for Shaxx's foresight in cancelling all scheduled matches for the outpost that week.
Pushing past the gates to the Iron Temple, Rhylan could see wolves lying on the snow-capped steps and eyeing him with a lazy regard. On the balcony of the entrance to the Temple stood two armored figures that did not so much as speak to one another - Shaxx and Saladin.
As the enforcer climbed the steps to reach the two lords, he heard Shaxx remark in his usual brass tone, "About time you got here, Kingslayer. Why did you ask us to meet you in the temple of all places?"
As Rhylan reached the landing, Saladin followed, "Not only that, but you also asked us to bring your pieces of HIS sword. What's going on, my friend?"
Concern etched on his face, the Titan let out an audible sigh and brought out his Ghost, who proceeded to transmat into its Guardian's open palm a shard of what seemed to be a rock that bore a midnight purple hue. "It's finally time," Rhylan spoke simply.
Shaxx's crossed arms dropped as he and Saladin - almost solemnly - brought out their Ghosts, and similar shards materialized onto their hands soon after. The Titans held out their pieces and watched as the shards floated mid-air and combined into one fragment of the most hated weapon in the universe - Willbreaker, the sword of the Taken King himself.
As the fragment dropped into Rhylan's hands, Saladin interjected the Titans' ruminations. "The temple's forges have not been lit for some time. It will take us a while to heat this blade enough to -"
"Saladin," Rhylan interrupted. "Are we not dragons of light?"
At this, Shaxx crossed his arms and let out a series of chuckles; Saladin could only smile determinedly.
"Let us begin."
Whereas Saladin pondered the intricacies of the design, Shaxx instead marveled at Rhylan's schematics. "This is a masterwork, Rhys. I hope these hands are skilled enough to make it reality."
Rhylan smiled and took a deep breath as the three Titans eventually took their designated posts around the forge, and the shard of Willbreaker was readied for its own remaking.
Though the heat inside the forges was unbearable, the Titans' next order of business necessitated their adorning full sets of armor. Simultaneously, they all drew on the Light and summoned their Hammers of Sol - the kind that resembled war hammers more than simply ornate mallets.
The forge flared with the power of the Light, its heat scorching to all Guardians but the select few who truly understood and respected the fury of suns. Day in and day out, three such imposing beings occupied the forge and moved with immeasurable purpose; the fragment of a blade that once cut the universe so finely was mixed with metal and fire through deadly effort.
The shard of Willbreaker was eventually trimmed down and torn to pieces by the three smiths. One of those pieces was given the most attention - a length of pure midnight that was reshaped with relic iron to fit its new purpose. As the temple forges burned, Rhylan's Ghost displayed a schematic of the weapon he wanted to fashion from Oryx's cleaver - a blade that would make its wielder bridge life and death without the sword logic's complications in between.
Four days after beginning their endeavours, the Titans found their work impeded by an unnatural complication Shaxx pointed out not long after Rhylan shared the philosophy inherent in the weapon's design.
"It is not enough for the weapon to be forged with our Hammers, then. It must cut its enemies with deadly precision, but also empower its user with the Light."
"Should we temper the blade with Void Light?" Rhylan asked. "If this one means to define the universe as one without our enemies, then it will require more than the fury of fire when it strikes."
"That could work," Saladin added. "If the stories about Kabr are true, then we could fashion this weapon as if it were an extension of our wills.
For days after, the blade was constantly reforged with renewed intensity, and the Titans focused their wills - imbuing the sword with Void Light - so that the cutting edge of the weapon may know its true purpose. Melted hadium was poured into a mold around the blade, and was fitted as its hilt. Saladin offered a basket case mold for the hilt, but Rhylan insisted on a cruciform - more fitting for a greatsword, he said.
As the sixth day came to a close, the sword was heated with Solar fire and quenched again and again, each time making the blade stronger. Its makers' exhaustion was all but apparent and their suits of armor were singed and covered in ash, but for all their tireless work they still seemed to possess energy to behold the weapon.
At midday on the seventh day, the trio of warrior-smiths stood around a table upon which the weapon had been placed. Shaxx's concerns about Rhylan's application of the sword-logic has now made itself all too apparent: the weapon was found unable to empower its wielder. A quick venture to the EDZ at daybreak - and dozens of dead Hive - proved that their efforts had not been enough.
As Rhylan paced throughout the hall, Saladin loomed over the weapon as if he might have missed a detail in his exhaustion. "I think I understand the flaw in our design," the Iron Lord said.
Both Rhylan and Shaxx - who leaned over the table as well - turned to their mentor as Saladin continued. "I remember Shaxx's troubles with Bolt-Caster when he was forging swords for the other Kingslayers. He -"
Before the Iron Lord could speak further, the doors to the temple were thrown open, and the three immediately reached for their weapons but subsequently relaxed when they noticed who had walked in. Harsh winter winds blowing at his back, the figure strode towards the trio before coming to a halt mere steps away from the table.
"Rhylan," he addressed.
"Zavala."
"What are you doing here?" the Vanguard Commander questioned, eyeing Lords Saladin and Shaxx suspiciously. Likewise, the two Titans rose from their respective perches on the table to full height.
"Building a weapon," Rhylan replied almost nonchalantly. "More importantly, how did you know we were here?"
"It's not difficult to figure out where three of the most prominent Titans in the Tower could have gone off to."
The two stared at each other for a short moment before Rhylan continued. "Are you here to stop us?"
"... I can see that it's too late for that, anyway." The Commander paused briefly, then followed with, "Can I be assured that this weapon won't be misused?"
Saladin bellowed from the table, "We all know what needs to be done if it comes to that, Zavala. Now come over here, we need your help too."
A ghost of a smile flashed on Zavala's face, and he clutched Rhylan's shoulders for a moment before the pair surrounded the table with Saladin and Shaxx.
"You were saying, old friend?"
Saladin once again leaned on the table with both hands before he spoke. "As I was saying, this weapon failed to empower the user's Light because it didn't recognize what Light was. The heart of the blade needs to know Light in its complete form."
"So it still needs Arc energy?" Shaxx asked incredulously.
"Yes."
The group stood silent for mere seconds before Rhylan broke into laughter, and the rest slowly followed suit. Their cries of joy eventually died down to mere chuckles, and Rhylan flashed a smile to his companions before continuing, "Shall we finish this?"
As he spoke the air around all four Titans crackled with electricity, and the world trembled as Light in its most destructive form engulfed all the corners of the temple.
Kiara sat on a stool by the kitchen counter and ate as she reviewed the latest Vanguard reports pertinent to her future assignments. Ever since Rhylan upped and left a week ago, she had been picking up the slack and doing the work intended for him, and as such have put her Crucible matches on hold.
I hate you so much right now, Rhys.
The Warlock's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her apartment door sliding open, followed by distinct footfalls. Turning in her seat to face the newcomer, Kiara was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man wearing an off-duty jacket and cargo pants who seemed to drag his feet to a nearby couch.
Leaving the data pad she was holding on the counter-top, Kiara slid off of her stool and stood behind the man who had simply planted himself on the couch. As she made to bend over and wrap her arms around his neck, she thought she smelled ash and soot on his person.
"Did you track soot into the apartment?" she whispered into his right ear. A distinct 'No,' though almost inaudible, seemed to satisfy her.
A few seconds are spent in silence before Kiara asks again. "Why do you smell burnt?"
The man half-opened his tired eyes and raised both his hands - his right to clutch Kiara's forearm, and his left to summon his Ghost. The little Light seemed to know what his Guardian wanted him to do, and materialized the sword safely on the table. With the late afternoon sun peering through the windows, the sword seemed to shine despite its midnight finish.
"It's beautiful."
"Mhmm."
A few more seconds pass. "Do you have a name for it?" Kiara whispers again.
Rhylan turns his head slowly to face Kiara and peck her left cheek, before gliding his lips over to her ear.
"... Charon's Reach."
A/N: Next story will be Kiara-centric. Thanks for stopping by.