Its lone eye looked over the ruined city of Addis Ababa. Once the crown jewel of Ethiopia, the former superpower of East Africa, is now nothing more than a dead city after the Collapse, surrounded by a wild and encroaching grassland. The small, hovering shell shuddered at the thought of such a mighty power falling like it was nothing more than wheat to the scythe before making its way into the city. Scanning each corpse, it found with a growing desperation as the weeks slowly passed with no results. To find their partner, to find their Guardian. Only it's fellow Ghosts could understand the crushing desperation that came with this search. It had been searching for over a century and would search for a century more if it had to. To find their partner. To find their Guardian. The Traveler and more importantly Humanity needed them. It needed them.
The Ghost's dirty shell swiftly flew through the dead city with a gnawing sense of hopelessness as it went from skeleton to skeleton with no results. Suddenly before it could react, it received a signal that went to the very core of its digital soul; demanding its undivided attention. It traced the signal back in complete terror before the feeling turned into utter shock. The signal had come from its creator, the Traveler. The almighty being that had uplifted humanity and had than sacrificed itself to save the last vestiges of them. It demanded its presence with an overwhelming authority, and it would comply. There was no denying its creator. The journey would be long, stretching across thousands of miles, but it had to be done. With its path decided, its long journey to the Last City of Humanity, the resting place of the Traveler began.
Years it had traveled, for none would answer it's call for aid, calling it a faulty machine, that it had lost its mind and fallen to the madness of not finding its Guardian. It had traveled across the glass plains of the Sahara, where none could live under the brutal conditions of the unyielding sun reflecting off the sand turned glass. It had crossed the frigid Atlantic, where beasts corrupted by the twisted Darkness swam freely and attacked all that they saw in their endless drive to grow stronger. With its frame falling apart at the rivets, it had finally arrived at the Fallen Ridden coasts of old Argentina. The last stretch of the journey was more treacherous than the previous steps for one simple reason. Its frame was falling apart. It was never meant to take the beating that it had taken. It was a miracle the shell lasted over its long journey.
Yet its frame held and now it looked upon the Last City and the Traveler from the peaks of the Andes Mountains. Even in its marred state its creator was beautiful, it's sacrifice for mankind was majestic. It could have run from the terrible threat. Yet it had stayed and gave humanity a chance at survival at that cost of itself and its power, it's beautiful Light. It could feel it's frame finally giving up from the strain, fluttering into rusted dust to the wind. It, without fear or dread of its failing shell, sent out a signal to its Creator announcing that it had arrived.
It received a response instantly. Knowing nothing but pain as it felt its very being dragged into a realm it was never meant to see, let alone exist in. It could feel its very soul being altered to its core as the rest of its frame was disintegrated in what seemed to be an afterthought. Endless colors streamed by it as it was flung through this realm of madness. Where it could feel unknown forces native to this horrid realm gripping upon it like a vice. The true horror of this madness, this torture, was that it knew what was doing this. It was not the Darkness in all its unending cruelty or some ancient technology, it was its creator. It could feel its soul being changed, having some form of Light being molded into it. Afterwards, all it knew was the sweet bliss that it had never experienced before, sleep.