Do you remember why you fought against us?
"Fought against who?"
The Reapers.
"Who are the Reapers?"
We are the Reapers.
"Are we also?"
No.
Sunlight streamed through the climbing ropes of a expansive playground. Warmth came with the light, and a man found himself closing his eyes as he walked. Around him, children played and laughed - their voices muffled and distant but the joy in their cries perfectly clear.
"The early memories of organic species are the most interesting," a voice stated. "Often, these memories are indicative of how an individual will develop. Those exposed to turmoil early on in life express themselves differently than those who were nurtured."
He didn't remember how he had gotten here, the man realized, but then one never remembered how a dream began. He wiggled his toes in the warm sand.
"Yet the differences between your life and others of your species are not as pronounced as one would think, and in fact there were those who were raised more capably who achieved less in their whole lives then you have in a week. Do you remember this place?"
The man opened his eyes and found one of the children looking up at him - its gaze glowing with a pale blue light.
"How could I remember this place?" the man asked, his voice distant to his own ears. "I've never been here."
"A memory may change as time passes," the child continued, running away from the man and leaping onto one of the climbing ropes. "What is perceived as a happy memory may have been anything but at the time, while a happy memory can be drained of joy by the actions of another."
The child's voice was soothing, and the man once again closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of the sun and sand.
"The details of memories are also questionable, yet organics usually hold them as fact. The feel of another's skin, the color of their eyes, the cant of their smile, all are remembered as a perfect image but often are far from reality. For instance, do you remember me?"
The man opened his eyes and his heart began to hammer inside his chest. A striking woman stood before him. Black hair flowed around her face highlighting her stricking brown eyes, and as he gaped at her, those eyes paled into a void of blue light as the woman smiled.
"Of course I remember you," the man answered, his voice catching in his throat. "You're..."
"Nobody. You've never met me," the woman said.
Suddenly all memories of the woman before him vanished. Where had once been the ache of loss and love there was nothing. The familiar lines and imperfections of her face and body became strange and distracting.
"Memories are lies," the woman stated, wrapping her arms around the man's neck and pulling herself against him. "They serve as unreliable distractions from reality at one moment and the justification for fractured ideals at another. So easily are they modified and changed that holding them as truth is folly, yet that is what is done."
The woman stepped away from the man. She had changed once again, and before him stood a figure almost completely alien to the one before. Her skin was now a rich azure, and the hair on her head had been replaced with a series of ascending, gently curved ridges.
"Do you remember her?" The voice asked, and the man glanced to his side at the child that stood there.
"I don't," the man answered.
The scene before him changed. The empty sky of the playground filled with twisted metal and the hiss of machinery replaced the happy cries of children. The woman began to slam her fists against rust stained glass that appeared between them. She cried out, her eyes pleading as she repeated a single name over and over. Her eyes searched his face desperately looking for any sign of recognition. Any sign of life. Any sign of love.
He didn't move.
Slowly, the woman retreated from the glass. Holding her arms across he chest, she sobbed helplessly. "Shepard... no..."
The hiss reached a crescendo and gas filled the room. The woman screamed, the acidic vapor eating away at her body and filling the air with the stench of burning flesh.
A moment later she was gone.
The man fell to his knees. He realized there were tears streaming down his face, but he didn't know why. It felt as if a part of him had been ripped away so completely that even the reason behind the pain had been lost.
The twisted metal vanished and was once again replaced with the cloudless sky and the warm sand. A hand reached down and lifted his face.
The woman stood above him, returned to life with a smile on her lips and her eyes glowing with a pale blue light. She spoke, the voice of the small child and the countless voices it contained continuing through her. "Even with the memories of her absent you respond. Beyond all reason and possibility, you feel the loss, even if you do not know why." Her smile deepened as an expression of pure joy crossed her features. "She is with us now, Shepard, as are her memories of you. Do not weep for her."
Shepard stared at the stranger above him, tears continuing to fall from his eyes.
He looked away.
Do you know why we are here?
"No."
Your kind has joined us. Your task is complete.
"Good."
You have aided us.
"I have."
Do you know why you are still not a part of us?
"No."
You are still of use.
"Good."
The emptiness around him suddenly vanished. Endless white became filled with the blackness of space permeated with numberless pinpoints of light. A vast vessel drifted before him, its armored frame glowing with undeniable power. As he watched, the vessel convulsed, as if it were a corpse brought back to reality with a jolt of electricity. Slowly, it turned to face him.
This is your salvation.
"I know."
You will serve it. As the Protheans before, you will be the tools of its might. It will watch the next cycle, as Sovereign before. You will serve it.
"I will."
The vessel glow suddenly brightened, and a new voice filled his mind. Deep. Unquestionable.
You will serve us.
"I will."
We are the Shepard of their ascension.
We are limitless.