Light, Ghost told me once, was what brought me back from the dead. The Light of the Traveler, which bathed the last city in its glow, had created the Ghosts to bring back Guardians to protect the realm from the scrying eye of the Darkness, the Traveler's sworn enemy. This Darkness was an enemy that the Traveler could no longer fight, and an enemy that Guardians had to face alone.
Light, Ghost said, was intangible. There was no measure or way to quantify the thing. It simply was. What the Light was almost ascendant, an ethereal "being" that fought the Darkness for centuries and brought life to the Traveler. The Traveler created the Ghosts, each containing a shard of Light, which gave them the power to bring life where there was none.
Light, the other Guardians told me, infused itself with my very being, right down to my armor, giving me the strength to push back the Darkness. I, like so many others before me, was born of the Light, given a chance to fight for a life no one else had fought for before. This chance would not be wasted, I decided, the first time I set foot in the Tower. This chance would be used to do something great. I had never aspired to much in my past life, at least, not that I had known of, but I would in this life.
I would become legend.