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You stand atop the Tower, watching.
To your left you see jumpships moving in and out of the hangar. Even from where you stand you imagine you can hear the sound of soldering irons welding sheets of metal together, the banging of a wrench when a particular part isn’t functioning properly, a muffled curse here or there as a technician accidentally drops a tool – or two – on their friend’s foot.
You imagine Amanda working on bringing her own ship back into fighting shape, with only a frame or two to keep her company. Perhaps a little farther back you imagine a pair of eyes watching her as she works, always distant, but ready to step in – as unnecessary as it may be. Time, you know, leaves scars, but this wound has not yet run so deep as to leave such a mark. You know those two are in good hands – Saint always finds a way to help those he loves.
To your right you see Shaxx – loud, boisterous, Shaxx – talking with a small gaggle of Guardians, five veterans by the looks of their armor, and a New Light. Normally the man makes up half the noise in the Tower, but today, he talks softly; you cannot hear the exact contents of the conversation, but you see the group of five converge around their young companion, reassuring hands on their shoulders, and you know they are in good company.
You think if you look out far enough, you can see the edge of Ikora’s study in the Bazaar, but you refrain from doing so. This is not the first time the two of you have gone your separate ways – nor will it be the last – but there are days where you miss the closeness you once had, when there were three standing together at the table, and not two standing apart. You wonder if she feels the same.
Above you, you feel the absence of the god you once swore to protect. It is like a hole in your heart – you feel that you have failed in your duty, and that shame threatens to consume you. And yet, when you look up, you also see what you have achieved. For the first time in centuries, you see the telltale silhouette of a Ketch and feel reassurance. Cabal warships hang in the sky like massive slabs of stone, arranged in a pattern that reminds you of the first stones of the wall that you helped build to protect this city. Awoken fighters flit in between them like children playing in a market square. Together, this little alliance of Eliksni, Cabal, Awoken, and Mankind slowly fills that gaping hole back up, and you feel pride, knowing that you have at last defeated your enemies by making them into your friends.
Below you, you are reminded of what you fight for. The city is illuminated by thousands of motes of light, each one representing a precious life that must be protected at all costs. You hold the countless hopes and dreams of those who came before, and those who will come after. For despite a Collapse, an invasion, and the death of their god, everyone is still standing; everyone is still here. You know that long after your own journey ends, they will continue to move forward, bearing the torch that you hold in your heart.
You stand atop the Tower, watching.
Somewhere, you know, the night is giving way to the dawn.