"They've stolen our worlds. In return, would you not send their ether to the winds? I would. I have." -Dread's Enmity


Three drinks later, it was the best idea she'd ever heard.

That's how Meren found herself perched precariously on the back of Cayde's Sparrow, wind-whipped and rain-drenched, clinging tightly to his middle, with the vast, untamed wilds stretching out ahead of them.

In her defense, whatever was in Rasputin's Revenge had been a hell of a lot stronger than she'd expected. The effects had set in quickly, too, dulling her better sense and leaving her more than a little impulsive. By the third cup, her mind had been made up, and she'd left any lingering reservations at the table, along with the empty bottle.

In the span of the next hour, a few things had happened.

First, Cayde had insisted on making a quick detour to his shambolic apartment, where he'd promptly shoved a worn set of armor, a helmet, and cloak into her arms. When she'd questioned the purpose of it all, he'd merely winked and said something about 'covert ops' and 'keeping a low profile'.

Then, he'd smuggled her into the Tower, passing her off as a freshly-risen New Light needing their inaugural briefing. The plan had worked flawlessly. With her face hidden behind the helmet and his cloak draped around her shoulders, they'd walked straight through the checkpoint without raising so much as an inquiry from the security Frames.

From there, it had been a simple matter of taking a detour to the hangar, grabbing Cayde's Sparrow, and transmatting out past the City's easternmost perimeter, coming up just shy of the foothills that rose in the lee of the mountains.

And that's when things had gone sideways.

Unaccustomed to short-distance matter-transport jumps, the sudden shift from inside the hangar to standing outside in the middle of a downpour had threatened to bring her dinner back up. The second they'd emerged from the sapphire shimmer of the transmat field, Meren's stomach had clenched violently, and she'd had to double over, hands braced on her knees, to keep from retching. Cayde, meanwhile, had seemed totally unfazed by the trip and had given her a few sympathetic pats on the back while she'd gotten herself under control.

After that, the rain had doubled down, the wind had picked up, and Cayde's Sparrow had decided not to start. It had taken them ten waterlogged minutes and four tries before the engine had finally kicked over. Then, Cayde had spent another five or so minutes fiddling with the controls and complaining that the rain was "making the damn thing act up" before they'd finally taken off, tearing out across the muddy flatland at top speed.

Now, they were riding hard through the twilight, cutting a jagged path across the open wildland, the ground below a blur. Their course had them headed north-northwest as far as she could tell, skirting the edge of the City's outermost perimeter. As they flew past the glowing beacon that designated the first marker, the rain continued to beat down, the lashing wind buffeting their cloaks and whipping the fabric in their wake.

It was exhilarating.

Meren had never traveled outside the City by Sparrow. She'd only ever been out in the wilds twice, period. Both instances had been academic field excursions under the strict supervision of a Vanguard-assigned Guardian chaperone and in broad daylight. They'd been dull affairs, mostly. Plodding treks over well-charted terrain, with meager time spent stopping for notes, samples, or the occasional scan.

This was nothing like those outings. It was fast, reckless, and freeing. For the first time in weeks, Meren found herself forgetting her worries and even having…fun.

Ahead, the last rays of the sinking sun were just visible through the haze of rain, a thin ribbon of gold on the horizon. The sight was breathtaking. Meren had seen the sun set over the City a thousand times, but the view from out in the wilds was something else entirely. Out there, with the rain-washed world stretching out around her, the open sky above, and no buildings or spires to obstruct the view, it was like witnessing the sun setting over a completely different world.

For the span of a few breaths, she lost herself to the wonder of it all.

The moment was interrupted by a sudden bank to the left as Cayde veered sharply around a cluster of boulders, narrowly avoiding a collision. He cut another corner, sending the Sparrow careening into a long, sideways drift, sweeping a wide arc before he straightened them out again. Meren, who had nearly been flung from the Sparrow's rear seat during the maneuver, tightened her grip on him, earning her a brief glance over his shoulder.

"Sorry," Cayde's tinny voice came through her helmet's internal comm. "Got a little overzealous on the throttle back there. You good?"

"I'm fine," she replied through gritted teeth. "Just keep in mind if I fall off, the impact will probably break my neck. So, maybe try not to do that again, alright?"

"Easy on the evasive maneuvers. Got it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Cayde accelerated again, kicking the Sparrow's speed up another notch. The sudden increase in velocity made Meren's stomach drop, and she clung to him for dear life as the world blurred around her.

"That wasn't an invitation to go faster!" she yelled over the rush of the wind.

Cayde didn't answer. He just gave a loud whoop, then gunned the engine, rocketing them forward at top speed.

Alarming as it was, there was something infectious about Cayde's exuberance. He handled the Sparrow like he'd been born behind the controls. His body seemed to move in concert with the machine, anticipating each change in the terrain and adjusting accordingly. He'd lean into a gentle turn, then punch the thrusters again when the straightaways hit. The entire ride, his aplomb had never wavered. Well, apart from the near miss with the boulders, anyway.

In the face of his confidence, Meren's nerves slowly began to subside. She loosened her grip on him a fraction, allowing her gaze to stray from his back and return to the world around them.

They'd entered a wide, shallow valley. Ahead, the terrain rose gently to a low, sloping ridge that ran parallel to the sunset. To their right, the mountainous crags that flanked the City's eastern edge were barely visible through the gathering dusk.

Within minutes, the Sparrow hit the rise, and they began to climb, the vehicle's speed dropping steadily the higher they went. A minute later, the slope leveled off into a vast plateau.

"How much farther?" Meren asked.

"Eh, I dunno," Cayde replied. "Ten klicks, maybe? Fifteen? Twenty?"

"You don't know."

"Math's never been my strong suit," he said, the shrug in his voice evident. "Or geography, come to think of it. But we're almost there. Probably."

"Great," Meren muttered.

Suddenly, the cloud cover thinned, revealing a wide strip of clear sky overhead. The lingering spittle of rain gradually began to taper off. Then the storm was behind them, the last of the thunderheads receding into the distance.

"Hey, look! Clear skies." Cayde tilted his head to look up. "Told ya the rain would stop."

He sounded inordinately pleased with himself. Meren shook her head, trying and failing to stifle a smile.

"Lucky break," she said. "Now, would you please focus on the road?"

"What road?"

"You know what I mean."

The next few kilometers were thankfully uneventful. They followed the plateau for a while, the Sparrow's forward lamps carving a hazy tunnel through the murk. Eventually, they veered off into a sparsely wooded area. Cayde slowed the Sparrow to a more reasonable speed, threading a winding path through the scattered trees.

"Should be around here somewhere," he mumbled, his focus shifting between the terrain ahead and the Sparrow's HUD.

Ahead, dark shapes began to materialize through the woods. At first, Meren couldn't make out what they were. As they drew nearer, however, she saw that they were buildings, or what was left of them.

"There," she said, pointing over Cayde's shoulder.

She could feel his attention follow her finger. Then, he was steering them in that direction, navigating the narrow trail that snaked between the ruined structures.

Up close, the buildings were little more than husks. Roofless and crumbling, their walls had been badly eroded over the centuries. Whatever windows and doors they'd once possessed were long gone. Now, nothing was left but barren, weathered stone and the occasional broken slab of concrete, overgrown with moss and weeds.

The remnant of a small village, most likely. Claimed by the Dark Age in the wake of the Collapse and left to be forgotten, the same as most everything else outside the City's walls.

The sight tugged at her, bringing with it an odd ache like an old scar reopening. Meren pushed the feeling aside, burying it somewhere deep as the Sparrow slowed to a crawl.

"Well, here we are," Cayde said, finally bringing the Sparrow to a stop.

They were in the center of what must have once been a town square. Around them, the ruins formed a loose semi-circle. A dilapidated monument to a world lost.

A stillness settled over the place as Cayde killed the Sparrow's engine. Somewhere in the distance, a nocturnal bird called, its lone note echoing through the night.

"No hostiles on scanner," Cayde said after a moment. "Looks like it's all clear."

With that, he swung his leg over the side of the Sparrow and dismounted. A moment later, Meren did the same, stepping away from the vehicle and stretching. Her limbs felt stiff, and her back was sore from hunching over the entire ride. She reached up, undoing the latches on her helmet, eager to escape the stifling thing.

A rush of cool, fresh air greeted her as she lifted it away. She inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of wet earth and coigüe. A vast improvement over the musty recycled air that had permeated her helmet's internal ventilation system.

"So, what now?" she asked, setting her helmet on the Sparrow's seat.

Cayde had busied himself with digging something out of the storage bag lashed to the back of the Sparrow.

"Now," he replied, withdrawing a light from the bag and clicking it on, "we head thataway." He pointed the beam across the square, illuminating a path through the ruined structures. "The Fallen stuff's in an old church a couple blocks back. Well, at least I think it's a church. Mighta been a town hall. Hard to tell."

He flicked off the light and tossed it to her. She caught it easily, giving him a dubious look.

"C'mon," he said, waving for her to follow as he started off. "We're burnin' moonlight here."

Meren fell in behind him, waddling slightly, still trying to get used to the armor's proportions. It hugged her too tightly in some places and sagged in others. Clearly, it had been tailored for someone of a very different build. The cloak, at least, fit more or less like it was supposed to.

A short distance from the center of the village, the ruins gave way to the overgrown remnant of what must have once been a residential district. All that remained were foundations and piles of rubble. Still, their proximity to one another indicated a compact, well-planned layout. In her mind's eye, Meren could almost picture the place as it had been. The streets thronging with people, the windows bright, the air filled with laughter.

It brought to mind an offhand comment Variks had made once during one of his impromptu lectures on Eliksni history.

"Eliksni may be haunted by what we have lost," he'd said. "But to be forced to walk the ruins of our former life, as humans are? To remember so clearly what was. To see…It is a fate crueler than any deserve."

His words hadn't resonated with her at the time. But now, strolling through the remains of a village long since reduced to rubble, they suddenly struck a chord.

"Hey," Cayde called. "You comin' or what?"

Meren looked up to find him a ways ahead, the glow of his optics shining through the gloom. He'd paused by a toppled fountain, waiting for her.

"Coming," she replied, shaking off the strange melancholy and hurrying after him.

The church, or whatever it had been, was located just beyond the end of the residential area, a bit outside the limits of the village proper. It sat atop a slight rise, partially boxed in by a half-collapsed courtyard wall. Like everything else, the building's facade had crumbled over centuries. To Meren's surprise, though, three of the walls still stood in relatively decent condition, along with a good portion of the roof. Only the front face was missing, having mostly fallen into a pile of rubble.

Cayde led on past the ruins of the gate and into the courtyard beyond.

The rising moon cast the space in a soft, silver light, revealing cracked flagstone paths choked by wild grass and creeping tendrils of ivy. Here and there, the weathered remnants of statues could be seen, partially blanketed by lichen. They'd become little more than shapeless lumps, worn smooth by the elements. At the center, a pedestal stood empty. Whatever had once rested atop it was long gone.

Meren paused to brush the grime off a plaque affixed near the pedestal's base. The words there were inscribed in characters she recognized, though the language was unfamiliar.

Teresa de Jesús de Los Andes, it read. On the line below, Nace 28 de Marzo de 1515. Fallece 04 de

The rest had worn away.

"This is the spot." Cayde's voice carried from ahead.

Meren glanced past the pedestal to see him standing beside the gaping hole where the church's front entrance should have been. She joined him, flicking on her light and shining it over the jumble of wreckage and into the space beyond.

Inside, the church was little more than a skeleton, anything of value having been looted long ago. A maze of columns and collapsed stonework remained, its floor strewn with unidentifiable debris. In the midst of it all, though, were some more recent additions.

A pile of supply caches had been shoved against the back wall, stacked haphazardly and half obscured by a tattered, dirty tarp. Next to the caches sat an array of communications equipment. It was a cobbled-together mess of mismatched parts, but the various antennae and power conduits made its function clear. The conduits snaked across the floor, leading to a battered-looking generator, which had inconveniently been nestled in a doorway at the opposite end of the church. Most eye-catching of all, though, was the assortment of alien glyphs that dotted the walls.

"It's an Eliksni relay post, alright," Meren said, running her light over the markings. "Or it was, at one point."

At present, a fine layer of dust and dirt had settled over the caches and tarp, the communications equipment's power indicators were dark, and the fuel cell used to power the generator had been removed, rendering the whole setup useless.

"Place looks abandoned," she said, lowering her light.

"What'd I tell ya? No one home." Cayde was already making his way inside. "C'mon. Let's see if they left any good stuff behind."

Meren had made it halfway over the rubble heap when Cayde suddenly paused, flipping a hand gesture her way.

"Oh, and just, uh, stay frosty, alright?" he advised. "This place could be rigged to blow. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Wait, what?!"

Meren's alarm was met with a nonchalant shrug.

"Eh, you know how Fallen are. Never can be too careful."

She stared at him, aghast. "That would've been nice to know before we stepped into the booby-trapped building!"

Cayde set himself to fiddling with the lock on the first cache, heedless of her distress.

"Relax," he replied. "If the place was rigged, it'd go off right about..." He held up a hand, ticking off a countdown on his fingers.

Meren braced herself.

Nothing happened.

"...See? Perfectly safe."

She let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Traveler preserve us," she muttered, climbing the rest of the way over the rubble and into the room.

Once she reached the center, she stalled, turning in a slow circle, sweeping her light over the glyphs on the walls. It didn't take long to confirm what she already suspected. Her beam stopped on a symbol emblazoned on the front wall, off to the side of where they'd entered. A single ring, bracketed by two descending staves, with a horizontal third crossing the gap between the staves' top tips.

"Looks like the Kings set this place up," she mused aloud, moving closer to the marking to get a better look. "Which makes sense, given current arbitrary territorial boundaries. It's a good location, too. Hidden, but close enough to the City to keep tabs on it."

"Yuh-huh," Cayde mumbled, wholly engrossed in his cache-diving. "Hey, Sundance, get a read on this, will ya?"

At Cayde's shoulder, his Ghost materialized, her optic flashing as she began scanning whatever he'd found.

Meren tuned them out, refocusing on the sigil before her, pondering.

House Kings. One of the oldest noble Houses, and one with quite a storied past, no less.

Millennia ago, as the Edge Wars had threatened to tear the Eliksni's Golden Age asunder, it had been House Kings who had emerged from the chaos and had taken command. Together with House Judgement, they'd brokered peace, reuniting the disparate Houses. The Edge Wars had ended, and a prosperous new era had been ushered in. The Dawn of the Elders, as Variks called it. In the centuries that followed, Riis had flourished.

At least until the Whirlwind had come and swept it all away.

In its aftermath, the Kings had been reduced to a shade of their former glory. The remaining members, directionless and adrift, had been forced to resort to piracy and violence to survive, as all Houses seemingly had. Still, their Kell had instilled in them new ambition. Driven by memories of a forgotten age, House Kings had turned its aspiring sights on the other Houses in Sol. But it hadn't been through violence and bloodshed that they'd sought to exert their command. Instead, they'd chosen to wage a silent war from the shadows, pulling the strings behind the scenes, manipulating and guiding the fates of their compatriots however they'd seen fit. Even now, their ploy of acting as puppet masters persisted.

It was for that reason that the Kings still posed the greatest danger to humanity. They were tactical. Secretive. Shrewd.

Most importantly, they were patient.

Even so, if there was any House that the City could hope to reason with, it would be House Kings. Or House Judgement, technically, but their numbers had unfortunately been reduced to a current headcount of one.

Meren's eyes moved from the sigil, roaming down the wall, stopping on a lone cache set a short distance away. Unlike the ones Cayde was busy pillaging, it had been tucked aside in a dark corner, hidden from plain sight.

Intrigued, she made her way over, kneeling and brushing a thin layer of grit off the top. Beneath it, the scrawl of Eliksni graffiti became visible, adorning the crate's drab surface. To Meren's disappointment, the statements they made were far from profound:

Danaan was here.

The Kings Stand Strong

Devil-scent is of damp hollowhot.

Apparently, the up-and-coming ranks of House Kings weren't quite as distinguished as their forebears.

Meren set her light on the floor, directing its beam onto the cache. A locking mechanism had been crudely installed on the front, a complex-looking array of glyphs and gears. She was about to begin fiddling with it when Cayde's voice cut through the silence.

"Hey, I gotta ask," he began, "all that stuff you wrote about the Fallen in your report, like those big fancy words on how they're, uh, socially complex and possess a strong sense of personal and societal moral obligation and whatnot?" He paused. "That all true, or were you, y'know, going for bonus points with the dramatic flair?"

Meren stopped, her hands hovering above the cache's lock. The question surprised her, mainly because it was the first semi-intelligent thing she'd ever heard come out of Cayde's mouth.

"I- …Yeah. I mean, the topic has a bit more nuance to it," she replied. "Obviously, I can't cover everything in a report I wrote in one night, but yes. It's true."

"Huh."

The response sounded thoughtful. Or at least more thoughtful than he sounded most of the time.

"What brings this up? If you don't mind me asking," she ventured, turning away from the cache and looking back toward him.

Cayde shrugged, still rummaging around in the bottom of his crate.

"Nothin'," he said. "Just curious. Don't meet too many people who have a whole lotta good to say about the Fallen."

"There aren't many people who know much about them," Meren pointed out. "Everyone just chooses to see Eliksni as the monsters from their childhood stories instead of taking the time to think critically and learn. And, yes, sure, there's some truth to those stories, but we need to consider why. Why did Six Fronts and Twilight Gap happen? The Reef Wars? Why do they kill Guardians on sight or raid our supply lines, even now?"

"Because they're Fallen."

"Because they're desperate," Meren countered. "They're trying to survive. Just like we are."

She looked back toward the cache, beginning to rotate the cryptic gears in an attempt to pop the lock. The fact that she'd had a few drinks wasn't making the task any easier.

"And besides," she went on, "if you think about it, we don't exactly have a perfect track record, either. The Dark Age, all those Warlords, the Faction Wars. We're hardly innocent when it comes to needless bloodshed."

"So what are you trying to say? The Fallen are victims, and we're the bad guys?" Cayde asked. "Cuz, lemme tell ya, I'm not buyin' it."

Meren hesitated. That had definitely not been what she was trying to say.

"No, " she replied evenly, "what I'm saying is that both sides have done their share of questionable things, and while I may not agree with everything the Eliksni do, I can at least understand where they're coming from. Because, like it or not, at this point, they're our neighbors now. So the sooner we accept that and stop demonizing them, the sooner we can start working toward a future where everyone's not constantly trying to shoot each other."

Silence met her reply. For a moment, she thought Cayde had dropped the subject entirely. Then, after a few beats, his voice came again.

"I dunno, Prof," he said. "I've met a few Fallen in my time. Didn't exactly strike me as the let's-join-hands-around-the-bonfire types."

Meren considered for a moment. It was hard to fault him for his disdain towards Eliksni. After all, Taniks had killed one of his closest friends. He'd undoubtedly been left jaded by the tragedy.

Still, while Cayde's experience was unfortunate, the actions of one ruthless mercenary weren't necessarily representative of the Eliksni as a whole.

"You've met Variks, haven't you?" Meren tried, pausing her failing attempts at code cracking to glance back at him.

Cayde had, likewise, halted his search. "Okay, you got me there," he admitted. "But c'mon, the guy's an oddball!"

Meren shot him a dubious look. "When you say oddball, you mean, what, exactly?"

Cayde gestured vaguely. "I dunno. Weird. He's all...civilized. Talking to him is like, uh, a wolf in sheep's clothing kinda deal. Except it's a Fallen in the sheep getup, and instead of a sheep, it's a human. Wait, did I get that backward? I might have got that backward…"

For a long second, Meren said nothing, struggling to parse the sheer amount of nonsense Cayde had just spewed.

"Okay, first of all, that's…not quite the correct usage of that idiom. Second, the concept of civility is subjective," Meren pointed out. "I mean, take you for example. We give you free rein of the City for some reason, right? Meanwhile, the Awoken probably wouldn't give a second thought to putting you on display in a menagerie if given the chance."

"Harsh," Cayde said, not without a trace of amusement. "But fair."

"Now, if you mean civility in the context of, say, not immediately attacking you, then, yes, Variks is civil and other Eliksni are…less so," Meren continued. "But I would also counter that it's pretty damn hard to be 'civil' when every human you run across immediately shoves a rocket launcher in your face."

"Hey," Cayde said, jabbing a thumb her direction. "They started it."

While technically accurate that the Eliksni had struck first in their historic attacks on the City, it hadn't been wholly unprovoked.

"We stole their god, Cayde," she said flatly.

"Okay, yeah, maybe, but it wasn't like it was on purpose!"

"It doesn't matter! That's how they perceive it."

The conversation had begun to circle, and Meren sensed a stalemate on the horizon.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is, things don't have to stay the way they are," she offered. "Striving for something better led us out of the Dark Age. And if there's one thing we should've learned from that, it's that we're better off together. Maybe someday, we'll find a way to work the Eliksni into that equation, too."

Her words seemed to hit their mark. Cayde was quiet for a moment. When he finally spoke, it was in a tone Meren didn't recognize.

"Hey, wanna make a bet?"

She blinked. "With you? Absolutely not!"

"Oh, come on! Why not?" he asked, his usual good humor already returning.

They went back and forth on the subject for a few moments longer, their bickering carrying across the empty church, echoing through the dusty rafters. In the end, it was decided: if Cayde found the first artifact of value, she owed him a drink. If Meren won, the opposite held true.

"Fine," Meren conceded. "But I'm picking the place either way. You'll bankrupt me otherwise."

"Deal."

The terms agreed upon, the two returned to their respective searches, their conversation dissolving into a welcome silence.

Meren picked up where she'd left off, returning her attention to the cache's lock. After a few more minutes of trying and failing to decipher it, she abandoned the endeavor.

"Damn it," she muttered, rising to her feet and dusting herself off. As far as she was concerned, the cache was a bust. Maybe Cayde would have better luck.

With no small amount of irritation, she turned her attention to the communications equipment instead.

A brief survey showed the array to be a mess. Eliksni engineering wasn't known for being human-user-friendly, and the setup before her was no exception. Assorted wires and antennas had been slapdashed on and between the various components, making it impossible to tell what any given part was, let alone what they were all supposed to do.

Still, even if she couldn't make sense of the setup, maybe Cayde's Ghost could. Meren was about to turn and ask Sundance for a read on the equipment when she caught the sound of something somewhere in the darkness beyond the room.

A fleeting, warble, almost too faint to hear.

Meren froze and reflexively clicked her light off. "Cayde," she whispered. "Did you hear that?"

Across the room, Sundance hovered at his shoulder, shining a bright white beam over his arm, illuminating the device he was tinkering with. He didn't look up, his attention wholly on whatever gadget he'd found.

"What? Birds?" he replied absentmindedly. "Yeah, hear 'em all the time. They're everywhere out here."

Meren took a slow step away from the comm relay, her pulse quickening.

"That wasn't a bird," she hissed.

Cayde stopped and looked over at her. He must have seen something in her expression because he instantly got to his feet, his hand dropping to the holster at his side.

The forest outside had suddenly gone quiet.

"Aw, crap," Cayde said.

The words were barely out of his mouth when the trilling came again. Closer this time, louder.

Even a blossoming amateur ornithologist like Cayde couldn't have mistaken the call for that of a bird.

Sundance went dark, vanishing into thin air, leaving Meren and Cayde standing there, staring at each other across the church.

The room had little in the way of cover, apart from a few scattered columns. What was worse, there were six open doorways and countless windows, not including the gaping hole in the front wall. Any of which could be a potential point of entry.

Cayde moved first. In a single, smooth motion, he unholstered his hand cannon, training it on the nearest doorway. With his free hand, he motioned Meren towards the center of the room.

She moved.

They met in the middle, and Cayde immediately put his back to her. Meren followed suit, brandishing her hand light. Together, they squinted into the darkness, scanning the shadows for movement.

For an agonizingly long minute, there was nothing. Just the dark and the quiet rustling of trees in the wind.

Then, the first set of eyes appeared.

Four bright blue pinpricks, peering in through the western doorway. They blinked in and out like stars. Once, twice. A moment later, there were eight. Then sixteen.

Over the next few seconds, more eyes appeared around them until every doorway, several windows, and the breach in the front wall had been claimed.

"Shit," Meren cursed under her breath.

They were surrounded.

Before she could say another word, the first Eliksni passed through the door.

His movements had an almost cat-like fluidity as he slipped into the room on soundless, two-toed feet. A cloak, its coloration indistinguishable from the shadows, flowed behind him. He held his head low, his body coiled, all four arms poised. Each upper hand gripped a shock blade, crackling with arc energy.

More followed, slinking in through the doorways and creeping in through the windows. Meren counted eleven in total, all bearing weapons. All moving in that eerie, ghost-like silence.

Were the circumstances different, Meren might have been captivated by the strange, lethal beauty of the whole display. As it stood, however, she was too busy fighting down a rising sense of panic. Even she wasn't so deluded as to think she could simply strike up a conversation and negotiate with a crew of hostile Eliksni in their own territory. No, these were Eliksni of the 'uncivilized' variety. In fact, it was a minor miracle she and Cayde weren't dead already.

Atop a chunk of ruined wall at the front of the church, a cloaking field dropped, and a Vandal shimmered into existence, Wire Rifle trained on them. Illuminated by the moon's light, the yellow hue of their cloak was unmistakable.

House Kings.

Of course.

A small sigh escaped Meren. The situation was still far from ideal, but it could have been much worse.

Had the Eliksni been Devils, things would have likely devolved into a howling firefight before she and Cayde even got the chance to open their mouths. Winter, too. Since Draksis' demise, the Winter-born had become desperate and reckless. The only saving grace was that House Winter rarely ventured from the surface of Venus.

House Kings, though?

With them, maybe she and Cayde stood a chance…

The Eliksni around them had stopped moving, holding position a ways back, their eyes trained on the intruders. They were waiting for something, it seemed. A command, maybe?

Meren didn't dwell on it. They had a window of opportunity. It wouldn't last long.

Heart hammering in her chest, she took a half-step back, pressing against Cayde. Slowly, she lifted her hands, light clutched in one, the other open, fingers spread wide.

Beside her, Cayde hadn't caught on. His hand canon was still raised, flicking from one target to the next, trying to keep them all in his sights.

"No, no. Cayde, no." Her plea was barely above a whisper. "Don't, don't."

He either didn't understand or didn't care. Either way, he didn't lower his weapon.

The Vandal atop the wall shifted, Wire Rifle swinging to focus on the Exo.

"Put the gun down," Meren urged more forcefully.

"No chance."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than his finger slipped from the trigger guard, his grip tightening. Time slowed as the barrel began to turn, its target shifting to the big Eliksni with the shock blades, the crew's Captain.

Cayde was going to shoot. He was going to get them both killed!

A surge of adrenaline shot through her. Without thinking, Meren reacted the only way she could: by swiftly driving her elbow into Cayde's arm.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, the gun dislodging from his grip, clattering loudly to the floor.

A ripple of alarm coursed through the Eliksni. At once, shock blades and rifles rose. The Captain's primary arms came up, both blades poised to strike.

Meren didn't stop to think. Before Cayde could attempt to retrieve his weapon, she kicked it away, sending it sliding across the floor, skidding to a stop at the Captain's feet. The Eliksni's eyes snapped to it and then back up to her.

It was the opening she needed.

In a rush, she tossed her light to the ground alongside the hand cannon, then rummaged through her pockets before adding a currency chip, a data drive, and her comm to the pile. In the same moment, Meren spread her arms wide, putting her palms up and open, head bowed, as if in surrender.

The Eliksni were visibly taken aback by her display, weapons dipping. Their Captain was no exception. He swithered, his upper arms lowering slightly.

Likewise, Cayde was staring at her like she'd sprouted an extra head. Fortunately, all that came out of his mouth was a stupid "Uhhhh".

"Ireliis," she hissed at him through gritted teeth.

"Ire-what?"

"Bow!"

If Cayde could follow that one simple instruction, the Eliksni might lower their guard and be willing to listen to her. And if they were listening, she might be able to talk their way out of the mess they'd gotten themselves into.

There was a beat of silence.

Meren risked a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Her optimism withered and died on the spot.

Cayde hadn't moved. Instead, he stood there, squared off against the Captain, his jaw set, his optics fixed forward, as if daring the Eliksni to make the first move.

"Alright, listen up, four eyes," Cayde announced, loud enough for the whole room to hear, "I've got no idea what she's doing, but I know what I'm doing, and it's not that! So here's the deal." He jabbed a finger straight at the Captain. "I don't want this to get ugly any more than you do, but if your guy keeps pointing that rifle at us, so help me, everyone's about to have a real bad time. Got that?"

Every weapon snapped back up in an instant, sights trained on Cayde.

"Oh-kaay," he said, his cocky exterior faltering. "Well, if that's how you wanna play your hand, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Before Meren could blink, Cayde yanked a knife from its sheath at his waist, flipping it in his palm, a surge of Light flaring through him. Its incandescence rippled along his arm, consuming his entire form until, for an instant, he shone as luminescent as the sun.

The Vandal on the wall was one step ahead. Two of their eyes were already closed, Wire Rifle braced into their shoulder. One finger curled around the forward grip, then another as they let out a long, slow breath.

The sharp zing of an arc bolt split the air.

Meren's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a shriek as the shot punched straight through Cayde's head.

For a sickening instant, his body reeled grotesquely. Then, just as suddenly, he toppled over, crashing into a heap on the ground, smoke curling from the ragged, blackened hole where his right eye used to be.

He didn't move again.

Hand still clamped over her mouth, it took the span of a few breaths for Meren's brain to process the fact that Cayde wasn't actually dead. Well, he was currently. But the condition was little more than a temporary inconvenience for a Guardian.

For her, however, a very swift and very permanent death appeared to be imminent.

Meren swallowed hard, her gaze drifting from Cayde's smoking corpse over to the Captain. Slowly, her hand left her mouth, and her palms came up again in a last-ditch gesture of supplication.

For a second, the crew's leader seemed to consider her. Then, it hit her - an old assurance from a particularly business-minded friend.

"House Spider!" she blurted, the word tumbling out in Eliksni, sounding more like a plea than anything else. "I belong to House Spider."

Several of the Eliksni slitted their eyes. Two or three stepped back, chittering, aghast. Every last one of them stared.

It was a few tense seconds before they seemed to calm, and weapons gradually lowered. The Captain remained impassive.

One of the more assertive of the bunch, a Vandal who was clearly second-in-command, sheathed her shock dagger and stepped up, looking Meren up and down.

"This one belongs to Spider?" The Eliksni mused, making a slow circle around Meren, studying her. When she spoke again, her tone held a note of shock. "It is frail. Like a yaviirsi-brush twig!"

"Surprised, Kosis?" the Vandal with the Wire Rifle called down from their post. "It is true, what they say. The Spider's House starves while the Spider feasts. How else does he grow so large?"

Several of the Eliksni erupted in a bout of staccato chuffs and clicks - a chorus of raucous laughter.

Their Captain didn't seem to find it quite as funny.

"Enough," he barked, spreading a secondary hand, palm down, to silence them. "This is no time for your Drekh-humor." He shifted his gaze to the top of the crumbling wall. "Nyvis, lower your weapon."

Nyvis grudgingly complied. The Captain followed suit, placing his blades on the ground between himself and Meren before backing away. One by one, the others did the same, surrounding her and Cayde's lifeless body in a circle of discarded weaponry. Only Nyvis kept hold of their rifle, though the barrel was now trained solidly on the ground.

Satisfied, the Captain returned his attention to Meren and rounded out their ireliis, honoring her with a stately bow, all four arms spreading wide.

Meren let out a breath of relief. She was safe. Or at least, safe-ish. For now.

When the Captain came back up, he eyed her curiously, his primary hands flexing.

"The Riis-tongue, you speak it, human?" he asked.

"Some," Meren replied.

"And your understanding?"

She paused.

"All."

The church was suddenly achitter with disbelief.

"Pah!" the Captain spat.

"Blasphemy!" one of the others growled. "It dishonors the speech of Elders. Dock its tongue!"

Still at Meren's side, Kosis chattered a chastisement at the one who'd spoken. "How will it give information with no tongue?"

"You believe it holds information?" Nyvis scoffed from atop their perch. "Look! It leaves its city with no weapon. What information could it hold? It is stupid, this is clear."

"Yriik has no weapon," a Dreg in the back chimed in. He was missing an eye, half his setae appeared to have been scorched off, and he had been reduced to three-and-a-half limbs.

"For good reason!" Kosis shot back.

"Silence." The Captain's eyes fluttered shut, exasperated. "There will be no docking this day."

Meren was so preoccupied with the horrifying notion of having her tongue cut out she barely registered the flash of Light at her side. It was only when Cayde rolled onto his side and let out a long, dramatic groan that she realized what was happening.

"I'm okay!" he grunted. "Nobody panic!"

There was a split-second where the rustling of him picking himself up off the floor was the only sound in the room. Then, another twang came from Nyvis' Wire Rifle, and Cayde dropped once more, a fresh hole punched through his head.

The Captain stared down at him, unamused. Only after giving the Exo's body a prod with his foot did the Eliksni turn his attention back to Meren, picking up right where they'd left off.

"Human, what do your people call you?"

Meren didn't hesitate. She had no idea how many more deaths Cayde had left in him before the Eliksni grew weary of killing him and decided to turn their frustration on her.

"Meren Hale."

His inner eyes narrowed. "Your title?"

"Ah, 'the Professor'?"

Strangely silent, the Eliksni looked to each other momentarily, shifting uncomfortably. Kosis reacted more viscerally, taking a step back, her arms coming up protectively as if shielding herself from Meren's reply.

Their reactions perplexed her. Why had they suddenly become so uneasy?

The Captain gave her no chance to dwell on it.

"Hmph," he snorted, then puffed up and planted two arms crosswise on his chest. "My people name me Chiisori, Bloodied-Blade. Do not forget this."

It was quite the imposing title. Much the same as Chiisori himself now straightened to near-full height.

All Meren could offer was a single, slow nod.

With a chuff, Chiisori eased once more. "Merrin Haale, the Professor," he said, "we are honor-bound by your ireliis. No harm will come to you under my command, this is my oath. May my arms be docked twice-again and my shell rent from my flesh should I fail."

"Uh… thank you." She wasn't sure what else she was supposed to say.

With that, Chiisori stooped to pick up his blades. The others took his lead, gathering their weapons as well. All but Nyvis, who remained perched atop the wall, watching Meren closely.

"Come, night falls," Chiisori said, eyeing Meren as he returned his blades to his hip. "The darkness brings many dangers, and your human flesh is soft, pierced easily by bolts and blades. We shall shelter you."

He chirruped then, gesturing to his crew with a sweep of his arm. A ripple of agreement passed through them, and the group started for the front of the church. Nyvis scuttled down from their perch on all sixes, their Wire Rifle slung over one shoulder, and fell in line behind the others.

Only Chiisori and Kosis lingered.

"I'm not free to go?" Meren asked, confused.

A number of Eliksni heads shot up, turning to boggle at her. Predictably, they hadn't understood a word of what she'd just said.

Meren tried again.

"I go, yes?" she said, pointing back the way she and Cayde had come.

Chiisori canted his head. His eyes blinked twice before he replied, his voice low.

"My authority cannot allow you to walk free, Merrin Haale, the Professor. It must be that of one superior." He dipped his head, adding, "Apologies."

Suddenly, a prickling unease began to creep its way along Meren's spine. Then, Kosis was urging her forward, gently pushing her along after the rest.

With a backward glance, Meren narrowed her eyes at Cayde's body, lying motionless on the floor. Some help he was getting shot, dying, and leaving her stranded with a pack of strange Eliksni. If she managed to survive, the first thing she was going to do was find the nearest datapad and chuck it straight in his face.

Ahead, the others were exiting the church and melting into the darkness outside. Chiisori had paused in the threshold, Yrikk the Dreg at his side. As Meren neared, Yriik tugged on the Captain's cloak.

"My Captain, we take her to Paskin Baron. Yes?" he chirped. "He will be pleased with us. Reward us for such valuable quarry."

There was a firm gentleness in the way Chiisori brushed Yriiks' claws from his cloak.

"No," he rumbled to the one-and-a-half-armed Dreg. "Paskin lingers in his failure-sorrow. He will hold no audience, not even for one such as the Professor."

Chiisori turned his head, his eyes catching Meren's. Too quickly, his gaze was gone.

"We must bring her to Craaskkel."


AN: Thank you to Keltoi for edits!