This was originally posted on Darth Cain, the Reluctant Sith Lord, but I decided to share this Destiny/Ciaphas Cain crossover omake here as well.

Ciaphas Cain, The Slayer of Oryx

Oryx fell, the ground shaking under his tremendous weight. The Guardian who'd struck him down strode toward him like a hunter approaching cornered prey, blue-black crystals of solidified darkness following in his wake. Identical crystals were making their way up Oryx's legs and torso, accompanied by an icy chill that seemed to seep into his very bones.

Some part of his millennia-old mind still railed at the impossibility of what he was seeing. Guardians were creatures of the Light; the Darkness was anathema to them. The idea of any Guardian wielding the Darkness, let alone THIS Guardian, this pathetic excuse of a Lightbearer who wasn't even strong enough to summon even the simplest constructs of Light, was ridiculous. Laughable, even. And yet here that Guardian was, about to kill him with powers borne of the Witness-damned Darkness.

"H-how-" Oryx started to ask. But before he could say another word, the crystals reached his face, and his lungs and mouth were frozen in place.

The Guardian came to a stop right in front of his slumped form. His saw-toothed sword whirred to life, the teeth sliding down the length of the blade, the better to tear apart any unlucky enough to find themselves on the sharp end of it.

"Even he who navigates death can still die." And with that, Ciaphas Cain, Guardian of Humanity, Bane of the Hive, and Slayer of Crota, raised his sword and struck down a God.

Slowly, as the veil of blind panic lifted from my senses, I became aware of myself and my surroundings once more. My memory of what had just happened was disjointed: the last thing I knew, I was staring down Oryx himself, moments away from what would almost certainly be a painful death at the hands of the Taken King…

Oh, Throne. I had snapped, hadn't I? Faced with a God of Death in the flesh and the absolute certainty that trying to run would only result in me being run through from behind, I had instead charged him, and somehow – somehow – managed to kill him, at least if the headless, crystalline, humanoid shape in front of me was any indication.

Oh, and speaking of crystals, the blue-black things are all over the place now. On the bony, chitinous floor, on the equally bony walls, on my sword… and my clothes...

It's only then that I noticed the sensation in my hands. My palms tingle when I'm in danger—it's one of the reasons why I've somehow managed to survive and ascend to fame and glory as a Lightbearer who can't actually use the Light to fight—but this time, the feeling was different. It was less of a tingling, and more of a sharp, icy prickling. And it wasn't confined to my palms; my hands felt like they'd been dunked in ice water, though not in a way that made me uncomfortable.

I glanced down at my arms, noticing for the first time the brilliant blue glow that has enveloped them. A strange instinct prompted me to turn my hand over and curl my fingers, the way an actual Guardian trying to summon a grenade might… and lo and behold, a brilliant mote of this strange, crystalline energy manifested in my hand, a soothing chill washing over me. I took a moment to marvel at how easy it was; before, it was a strain to summon even the tiniest, most insignificant spark of Light, and I could just forget summoning anything I could use in battle. But calling forth that grenade came as easily as breathing.

A low, incomprehensible whisper reached my ears, and I was reminded that I was still standing in a Dreadnought crammed to the brim with murderous Hive. I dismissed the grenade and turned to leave…

"Where are you going?" The voice whispered to me, and something about it gave me pause. It sounded human, yet also not; natural, yet also warped and twisted, like if you took someone's speech and somehow ran it through a prism like it was a lightwave. "Dwell a moment on the weight of what you've done. Oryx was an awesome power. Show reverence."

"Whuh…" I murmured softly to myself.

"All right. Enough. Enough. A vacancy has opened, hasn't it?" The whispering voice continued to prattle on. "Do you ever pause to consider who benefits from all this heroism you commit? Do you ever look around you and feel the faintest chill? As if you are the tiny little ball bearing placed beneath a great mass, so that it might, if pushed, begin to roll?"

"Who are you?" I asked.

The voice just ignored me. "You're basically a god yourself, now. You've consecrated yourself. Why not emulate me? Why not use your power to learn? There are worse things to practice being; all you have to do is reach out and take-"

It took me a second to figure out what the voice was proposing, but when I did my response was immediate. "No, thank you."

Next to me, a crack appeared in the wall, the Dreadnought jerking as if smacked by a meteor. The voice went silent for a long, long moment. And then, it spoke again, apparently having heard me this time. "What?!"

"You heard me the first time," I responded, breaking into a sprint as more cracks appeared, glowing with a sickly yellowish-green light, the whole Dreadnought coming apart at the seams. "Now I've really gotta get going!"

"You fool!" The voice roared as I fled through the crumbling halls of the Dreadnought. "It's not right! Who now shall be First Navigator, Lord of Shapes, harrowed god, Taken King?! Who else but you?! You could be King of the Deep! There must be a strongest one; it is the-!"

"Yin? Yang? I could really use a transmat now!" I shouted to my ghosts, drowning out the mystery voice's noisy complaints. The floor was coming apart beneath my feet; in a matter of moments I was hoppingfrom drifting pieces of hive-built architecture, trying not to think about the fact that gravity still seems to be pulling me in a specific direction.

"Got it," Yang answered. One moment I was leaping into the void of space, the next I was stumbling into the cockpit of my jumpship and sliding into the chair.

"Destination?" Yin asked.

"Anywhere but here," I stated as I grabbed the controls, the Jumpship's thrusters roaring to life as the Golden-Age vehicle powered away from the Dreadnought with all possible speed. There was a bright flash of yellowish-green behind me, a cataclysmic BANG, and then the NLS drive kicked in and I was outta there.

With the Jumpship now tucked away in the relatively safety of Non-Linear Space, I slumped into the chair, exhaling a sigh of relief. For a long, long second, silence reigned.

"I must say, seeing you utterly annihilate the Taken King in close combat was truly spectacular to behold." Yin commented.

"I take it you recorded it as usual?" I asked.

Yang bobbed the pieces of her shell up and down in agreement. "For posterity. And the moviemakers in the last city, of course."

I suppressed an inward groan at the thought of yet another one of those cringy cartoons going into production. Fortunately, I was distracted from the thought of yet another upcoming evening of squirming at the sight of my inglorious deeds being exaggerated and dramatized for all their worth by a call from the Tower.

"Zavala here. DID YOU JUST MAKE THE DREADNOUGHT FUCKING EXPLODE?!"

AN: Stasis seems such a fitting ability for Cain to have; it's all about fear and authority, which are both things Cain always seems to have in abundance. And why not have him develop Stasis abilities long before any other Guardian besides the Exo Stranger, during his duel with Oryx, just to see him suffer pull the impossible from straight outta nowhere once again?

Oh, and Cain has two Ghosts instead of the usual one, because why the frak not?