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She kills them all and takes the next ridge, high above the Cinders. She can see the blue-green pools as well as the cave mouths where the Vex lights dance. And there among them, gowned in smoke and ash, is the long shark shape of a Ketch, a Wintership, the Kell's boat, return to nest.

At dawn she discovers a sentry and kills it with her knife. Its throat bleeds gas. She chooses its post and lays out her bullets one by one on the rock as if to make a count of all the years she's been waiting. Her rifle is near as long as she is tall. She lies down by her bullets and uses them to kill the other sentries one by one till at last they know the thunder and the Shanks grow up angry from the Cinders below to seek her out.

The rock smokes around her where the arc fire lashes it and the shrapnel firearms throw up leaves of obsidian like glass butterflies. She shoots her bandoliers dry along with a team of Vandals in glassy stealth jump up to hurry her with knives she raises her hand and burns them down with the golden gun, laughing, crying out Draksis, Draksis, I am come!

She leaves the Sparrow and climbs a long way across spars of volcano stone and involving vents of blue fire. Down below the Ishtar ruins spark with skirmish light but the guns seem as distant and brief as the constant starfall and the brooding crater high above. She's alone on the rock. She goes on with her head down in order to fight the feeling that she is going to fall up off the world and burn like an inverse meteor.

She leaves the rifle and walks across the naked obsidian into the swarm firing from the hip as she goes, every kick of the old revolver a word, Draksis, Draksis, Kell of Winter, Kell of hate, lord of the kingdom of her vendetta. Her jaw aches. She used to imagine biting out his throat with armored teeth.

/Crota marches with a thousand Knights and they say the sky above Mare Imbrium has turned into green fire. They're dying in numbers I cannot bear to repeat. He kills them one by one with a sword that eats their Light. Eriana, we have to do something -

/ Tighten that strap. / Eh? / The gardbrace is loose. Could slip. / Huh. / It's new? / Agema. Type / How's it hold up? I tried using Agema in the Gap, remember? It did not well, what is this? / A Ghost! / Yes. Light be with you. / Excuse me, small Ghost Tubach, pass me my helmet thank you. Little Ghost, what do you do here? / It's just looking around. / Where's your Guardian? / I don't think it's one. / Well, any servant of the Light is welcome among us. We're Holborn's Host, and I'm Holborn. The City's hand on Mars. / Tubach. / That's Tubach, my second. Among the Best Titans of the City. Now see here, small Ghost, in my shoulder? That's the mark of Holborn's Host. Record it. The twelve-pointed star. One for each of those oh well, off it goes! It doesn't look well. / We should get moving. / A Ghost. I recall when I was risen, you understand. When I woke in that wreckage, to see my Ghost hovering there, its light in my eyes, like an angel. And it stated / This narrative again. / Disrespectful youngster. / Youngster? I could be older than you, Tibon! / True. The gardbrace is fine today. Stop worrying at it. Are you going to take the Jigoku? / Thought I'd take the long rifle. Bayle has the Jigoku. / Good. That Ghost what do you think is wrong with it? It is echoing something historical, an Old Earth language. You know what that Ghost reminds me, flitting about over there? I do not. / The time Ghosts from Jagi's Host came back without them. Remember they got in that fight at some point east of the Caspian? Seven Ghosts, damn near silent, buzzing with some sort of corruption. Drifting back by one. Scared the Speaker well enough. / I remember. Quite a long time ago. Jagi tells the story differently. / Well. All of us grow old. In our way. Little Ghost! Come back here! / It's not going to make it, wherever it is going. I want to speak to it. Little Ghost! / Lyssa and Bayle are probably there already. / Cabal move gradually. We have time. / But the Warlocks have had a vision. / Yes. That new one, what is her name. Ingora? / Ikora. / She has always been hasty. I have faced these Cabal before. I understand 'em like I know my own armor. / Message from Lyssa. 'In the Dust Palace, today. All quiet.' / See? All quiet. Why not come with us, small Ghost? We are looking for the old Warmind here, and the one who guards it.

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