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This Is Your Only Purpose [Destiny] [Alt!Power]

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I just realized that the Hive have Worms, and Taylor is from Worm. Thus, Wormgod Caress is perfect for Rose. Punch minions and then punch a god Rose!
 
Ringed in Spears said:
"She wasn't Risen," Rose's ghost said, after they'd started walking.

Rose glanced at her ghost. Then back down, nodding.

"Do you think she was human?" her ghost asked.

"I don't know," Rose said. "She helped us. She didn't have to."
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Um what? Not a Risen? Literal centuries since canon Worm ended and you did state straight up that the extended life humans enjoyed occured after the arrival of the Traveller which Lisa would have been very old for if she was still alive at all.
 
So, just binge-read this. Well not totally binge-read. I stopped for a while when Lung entered the picture, then picked it back up today. While I will disagree with how some things are handled, like the Darkness and what have you, this is ultimately your story and you are free to tell it however you want. Plus, everyone's allowed to do their own take on things when fanfiction is involved.

With that out of the way, this story is fucking phenomenal. You've taken Destiny canon, woven it with Worm in ways I didn't think were possible, and we haven't even gotten to the good shit.

As I was reading this, though, a horrifying thought happened to come to mind.

...has Oryx taken any entities? Because para-Taken is a TERRIFYING thought.
 
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Kindling
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    • Kindling​
    Rose watched herself die. Through her own eyes, through her ghost's eyes, through the eyes of her now-dead wraiths. Her body crumpled, jerked, writhed, burned, and drowned. Breath escaped her lungs, bubbling into the air, involuntary reflex finally forcing water into her lungs. The Eliksni pinned her to a wall with a blade. A shot of celestial fire pierced through her bubble, popping it, her stunned corpse tumbling backward into a burning hell.

    Her ghost kept the replay on mute. Caring for her, wanting her to maintain some level of detachment from the sight of her own death playing again and again. Rose wasn't sure how much it helped, her breath catching in her chest with each death, even as she watched with unblinking eyes.

    "Let's take a walk," Rose said. She was surprised by how dull her own voice sounded. Tired.

    Her ghost followed her as she left the room, as they walked through the halls. Some other people had populated the area, but didn't question her presence as she passed them. Outside, it was cold. Not just bracing, but bitingly, shockingly cold. Her breath misted, and the sky was cloudy and dark. Her nose hurt. If she could manipulate Solar, she would've been capable of striding out into the cold, melting the snow around her. Instead, she was stuck.

    Impulsively, she ran. Her body burst through the snow, strength propelling her through it, sinking deeper as she went, her sprint turning into a slog, and then into a halting shove, trying to clear a path forward with frantic arms. She struck at the snow, her movements jerkier, slowing as she shivered.

    "Rose," her ghost said.

    "I know," Rose hissed. Helpless. Slogging through the snow yet again. She'd seen those deaths, needing to be saved, incapable of doing anything but pushing forward and dying. The snow was cold against her already shivering body as she made her way back toward the Sunbreaker enclave. "I know," she repeated, through chattering teeth. She was aware of what she was trying to do, the same thing she'd continually tried, because it worked. To throw herself at the problem, to make herself the target and resolve it along the way. To have the plan and be the one in the fray.

    But it wasn't enough anymore. She stumbled through the warm hallways, getting more looks this time, and ignoring them as she walked toward her room.

    "If you weren't here," Rose said, once she'd stopped trembling, "I would've gone to see the Forge." She paused, trying to find the words. Her ghost knew what she was going to say, but it felt important to say it. Having it break her felt preferable to being broken. Being incapable of contributing was anathema to her. "I wanted a solution. Concrete answers. How long will this take? How much time do we lose here to have them even attempt to unravel what's wrong with me?"

    "Because you need to be involved," her ghost said, voice soft, painfully kind. "You have to be there."

    Resentment welled up, then subsided as Rose slumped. "The City is falling. Right now," she said. "It's still falling while I'm here."

    "It is," her ghost said. "And you would die. You did everything you could. You were there. You helped."

    Rose stared at the ceiling, which remained reproachfully silent.

    "You view the inability to contribute on your behalf as failure," her ghost said. "Despite contributing, your lack of perceived meaningful difference made can't be justified. So you fixate, which has solved other problems. But not this one, because this isn't one you can brute force through cleverness, willpower, and sacrificing yourself."

    "You picked this up from Lisa," Rose said.

    Her ghost's shell rotated, spooling out before reforming in an approximation of a shrug. "You want the fastest way to improve. I am providing you with the proverbial carrot."

    "If that's the carrot, what's the stick?" Rose asked.

    "You keep digging," her ghost said. "We're at rock bottom. We've been given every opportunity to make our way out. We keep clawing at the ground, until your hands are bloody and broken. Failure is familiar to us. We're used to failing and making our way back through sheer grit. It has to be you. That's not saying the decision has to be you, I'm repeating myself. You have a near pathological obsession, maybe nature, but definitely nurtured by what we've done and accomplished, to be the one solely responsible. You need to be involved. And now it's killing us. Not just you, which you would be fine with. It's killing our chances of success."

    Rose rubbed her shaking hands, trying to still them. "Like you haven't helped," she said. The urge to lash out further was there, but it wouldn't help. It would just make things worse.

    "I have," her ghost said, drifting to rest between Rose's fingers, "but we have the opportunity to change. You see that. You're afraid. I'm afraid. But we have help. Let's take it. Please."

    Rose enclosed her ghost in a cage of her fingers, staring at the single blue eye. She couldn't stop her trembling. It was always easier to fight. To go in and find the solution, and let her body fail again, and again, and again. To let her stubbornness outlast theirs.

    "Okay," Rose said. It felt like giving up. Like she'd failed to keep digging even if her hands were bloody, even if it went down to the bone. Her teeth grit together, her jaw clenched in frustration.

    "Together," her ghost said.

    Rose closed her eyes. The tension seeped away, even if the sense of defeat lingered. She breathed, in and out.

    Her ghost said nothing, waiting, using her flaps to hold Rose's hand, letting her know she was there. Defeat faded, replaced with resignation. Regret commingled with faint amusement as Rose ran a thumb over her ghost's shell. "What would I do without you?"

    "Die for good, probably," her ghost said.

    Rose's lips pursed in barely restrained amusement, and she let out air through her nose. She shook her head, the tension slipping from her as she fell back against the wall. It hadn't even been that funny. "Together," she said, staring once again at the ceiling.
    It was freezing when Rose awoke. Cold enough that even when wrapped in furs, she was still chattering. She stepped out into the hall, where a Sunbreaker was keeping vigil, slightly hunched over next to the firepit. Eyes like lit coals glanced up at her before darkening.

    "Cold?" he asked. His voice was a rumble, and he stepped over to chunks of roughly hewn wood without waiting for an answer. He took a chunk of the wood, examining it. It met his approval, and he stepped back over, stirring up coals with his bare hands. He broke the piece of wood up, placing the fragments in loose layers before putting his hand atop the makeshift tower. "I am working on my finer control," he said. The wood smoked, then caught fire. "There you are."

    Rose approached, feeling the warmth. It moved with the flame itself, as the smaller twigs crumpled in on themselves, blackening and burning. "Thank you," she said, when her chattering had eased.

    "Easier to burn bright," he said, resting a hand on the metal hammer slung at his hip. "Harder to control."

    Rose glanced at the hammer. The Sunbreakers all seemed to have one, small or large. This one had spiked tips on the face of the hammer, with a jagged back claw. "You make your hammers in the Forge?" she asked.

    "Ah," he said, removing the hammer from his belt and handing it to her. "Yes."

    Rose took the weapon. The handle was straight, with notches to make it easier to grip. It was warm to the touch, reminding her of sitting on a stone, basking in sunlight. Her fingers curled around the grip. "Weighted for throwing," she murmured, feeling the heft.

    "Yes," said the man, a wide smile on his face. "Imbued with the sun's fire."

    Rose returned the hammer. It felt like a similar process to her revolver, and her connection to the Void. A focus with which to interact with the Light, to ease the process of using it, a link forged through a relic. "I've seen others make guns with Solar energy," Rose said.

    "And I, swords," the man said.

    "Why hammers?" Rose asked.

    "Hammers can break and build," said the man. "A very blunt metaphor." He let out a bark of laughter at his own joke.

    Rose stared at him.

    The man cleared his throat awkwardly. "Heat transforms. It shatters bonds. Breaks things into component pieces, and we facilitate it. But can also bring together. Meld, weld. It is how it was explained to me. Our hammers represent this. Making and breaking."

    "Makes sense," Rose said. So the hammer was a relic, a focus through which they used their Light.

    "Interesting, representative of the group regardless of whether they prefer destruction or creation," her ghost whispered. "Deliberate decision, or happenstance?"

    What was the Forge, then? Another more direct link to the Traveler? Some Golden Age technology, repurposed through a communal link with other Risen?

    "You have difficulty with Solar Light," said the man. "Or you would provide your own heat."

    Rose gave a slight nod.

    "Too much, or too little?" the man asked.

    "Too much," Rose said.

    "Ah," said the man. "It burns you? Or just others?"

    "I've been through this already," Rose said. "Burns me."

    "I am sorry," said the man. "I do not know, so I ask."

    "It's alright," Rose said. She stared into the flickering flame. It flowed back and forth, caged by the surrounding pieces of wood. Licks of fire caressed the sides of the cage, the white turning cherry red around the edges. The cracks became more prominent, the weak points blackening, consumed. It warmed her fingers, and her shivering had stopped. As the wood turned ashen gray, the man leaned over and blew, embers flickering and sparking, red emerging once again if only briefly.

    "Good luck," said the man. "I will go to help with breakfast."

    It was dark. Difficult to tell the time, so Rose glanced at her ghost.

    "You've been sleeping better," her ghost said. "Early morning. They must… start with the rising of the sun?"

    "Makes sense," Rose said. She stepped over to the lumber, hefting a piece up. At least she seemed to be regaining her strength. Her fingers prised the wood apart into uneven chunks, and she sat by the fire. "How long do you think?" she asked. "Give me a timetable."

    "You're not talking about them making food. You want a timetable on moving on," her ghost said.

    "I want your analysis," Rose said, staring at her ghost. She held a piece of wood into the fire until it caught, then dropped it in. "You've been watching, right?"

    "Mostly eavesdropping," her ghost said. "Not that it helped much. They're not the most talkative bunch. Some discussion about the City, grunts about what to eat. You're the most interesting thing to happen for a while."

    "Wonderful," Rose said. "What else?"

    "The markers I've been looking at in passing have been murals and personal works," her ghost said. "They often have very distinctive styles, which make possible timelines. Collaborations are also common."

    "Anything indicative of their…" Rose struggled to find the word, waving another piece of wood.

    "Graduation date?" her ghost asked.

    "Essentially," Rose said. "Or is there some marker in skill?"

    "There is an element of structure," her ghost said. "Not total freedom. Basic principles I assume so they don't end up accidentally causing a cave-in."

    "Wouldn't be surprised if it's happened before," Rose said, thinking about the false-Dragon.

    "Me neither," her ghost said. "Makes me curious if new arrivals are kept sequestered or moved often. If they move consistently as a unit, does that make the Forge a portable resource? The schism between the Sunbreakers would imply it is. I've heard tales of an eternal flame kindled by a single woman. Could the Forge be something similar? A communal kindling of Solar Light, capable of being split and merged?"

    "Are you trying to build a timeline off this?"

    "Yes," her ghost said. "They move, but not too often. The immortality of Lightbearers makes them capable of leaving or staying on a whim. Their nomadic lifestyle wouldn't necessarily require awareness of surroundings, as ghosts can circumvent any issues getting lost. They would likely only set up semi-permanent camps to either establish ground, create shelter, or to care for and teach others. This outpost is defensible."

    "Has good sightlines, hard to reach," Rose said. "Reinforced. Wouldn't do much against a barrage of ship fire, I'd expect, but difficult to do anything against that."

    "Relatively concealed," her ghost conceded. "And as there doesn't appear to be substantive animal husbandry, they need to be hunting and gathering for their meals. Unless they're strictly rationing, but I don't think that's the case."

    "Seasonal, then," Rose said. "Might have scavenged some hydroponics."

    "Also possible. Might be where their grains come from. Wouldn't be transportable, but might be recreatable through glimmer," her ghost said.

    "Any closer to a timetable?" Rose asked, putting another splintered piece of wood into the fire. It sparked and sputtered for a moment. She heard movement behind her and spun. Her gun was in her hand, but she kept it low, slowly holstering it.

    "Good reflexes," said a woman. "Better control." She was shorter than Rose, and unarmored, but the way she held herself more than made up for it. Her shoulders were square, her hands clasped behind her back in parade rest. Her eyes were like flint, steely gray and lit by the fire. "Thank you for not killing me," she said, voice deadpan.

    "You surprised me," Rose said. She raised her hands up. "No harm meant."

    The woman made a dismissive gesture. "No harm done. We live in dangerous times. Emily."

    "Rose," said Rose.

    "You're eager to get back out there," said Emily.

    "I am," Rose said.

    "So you're attempting to understand the Sunbreakers and how they work, in order to get a head start. Your control issues aren't a matter of choice. They're actively interfering with your goals," Emily said.

    "Yes," Rose said.

    "Taciturn when you're speaking with someone you don't trust," Emily said.

    "You were eavesdropping," Rose said. "Not particularly inspiring of it."

    "True," Emily said, "and what of your reconnaissance? It's important to do your research."

    "How long have you been spying on me?" Rose asked.

    "I do my research," Emily said, the corners of her mouth curling ever so slightly in a smile. "Ordinarily, I would have waited to vet you. Impulsive, impatient, desperate. Not good qualities in a recruit struggling to control her Light. It would be better to wait for more reports."

    Rose crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow in lieu of response.

    "Adversarial too," Emily said. "But I digress. The City is lost. Sunbreakers didn't have stellar relations with the City, but I had a vested interest in the accountability of Lightbearers. I will admit I didn't expect the attack, nor did I expect the schism to be so pronounced."

    Rose mulled the words over, processing them. The barely contained frustration in Emily's tone was palpable. The woman wasn't visibly angry, beyond the faint heat shimmer radiating from a hand resting on the head of the hammer at her hip. "What do you want?"

    "A violent coup of the City has resulted in the fracturing of the populace. Immigrants and refugees will soon be everywhere. Caring for the sick, the wounded, the young, the elderly, is all a drain on resources. It needs to be done, but it engenders distrust, and makes the group easy prey for those on the hunt." Emiliy tapped her hammer. "The Light is a deadly weapon. The injured will be suffering. Burns, nerve damage, disintegration."

    "I've seen them," Rose said, voice hard.

    "And you want justice," Emily said. "Retribution?"

    "I want to right the wrongs," Rose said.

    Emily's posture shifted, putting her weight on one foot as she leaned back. "How many have you killed?"

    "Enough," Rose said. "But I can't take them on alone."

    "You're negotiating for the Sunbreakers to help you," Emily said.

    "I am," Rose said. "Are you in charge?"

    "The position of leadership is…" Emily paused, thinking her words over. "In flux. The separation left the Sunbreakers disparate. Differing opinions on what to do next. Many are firebrands, if you'll excuse the joke."

    Rose took the bait, cutting straight to the point. "If you were the leader, would you help?"

    Emily smiled, apparently satisfied. "I'm willing. Warlords in power are dangerous. Their success means the potential resurgence of others who think they can mimic said success. Accountability is necessary in order to keep the peace. Justice is necessary."

    "How are you going to convince the other Sunbreakers, if they're so disparate?" Rose asked.

    Emily's smile widened. "That's where you come in," she said. "Follow me. We'll help with breakfast."

    Breakfast was a bustling affair. The cooking area itself was a mix of old and new. Rose recognized the clean utilitarian furniture as ones she'd seen standard issue in bunkers. They passed drying rooms, grow rooms, pantries, and finally arrived at the kitchen proper. There was a large cauldron of fragrant liquid being stirred, smelling strongly of spice and lentils. Ghosts flew above, holding trays of ingredients. Chunks of meat, dough, and other elements Rose didn't recognize. The place was filled with noise, the sound of metal on metal, knives chopping, voices calling.

    "Routine is what keeps the Sunbreakers together right now," Emily said. "You understand."

    Rose did. Keeping to a routine, even if it rang hollow, could keep people going.

    Emily whistled and pointed as they walked. A few heads turned, and most turned back to what they were doing. "Newbie's helping with bread!" she called. "Goes by Rose."

    Rose looked at Emily. "You're not coming?"

    "My influence would look too grating," Emily said. "Go, talk, socialize. Feel the heat, don't get too badly burned. Respect the fire."

    Rose looked toward where Emily had pointed. More new faces, some happier for the help than others. "Alright," she said. "But I want more than metaphors soon."

    "After breakfast," Emily said. "Then we'll start untying both knots. Get to know people. Be as helpful as you can without being a pushover. I'll go speak with Cinder."

    Rose gave Emily a nod, then walked deeper into the sweltering kitchen, pasting an smile on her face. Given the opportunity, Rose would've eschewed politics entirely. That wasn't an option anymore. Time to make nice.
     
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    • It's back! Not often a post GM fic grabs me but this one definitely has, very glad to see an update.

    I'm guessing we have Emily Piggot (seems too obvious but fits very well with description and personality) or possibly Spitfire if she has changed dramatically and I'm gonna go with Cinder is Cinreal, mostly cause of the name and position she would have to hold to be getting attention from Emily.

    Still very curious about what's going on with Lisa, since you have stated she isn't a light bearer, lots of questions on that front with no answers.

    Hope to see more soon.
     
    It lives! And Rose is starting to Heal! Or at least stop digging herself deeper and let someone in enough to help her.
    I'm also digging the exploration of the Sunbreaker culture. Getting a chance to see what life is like in this secluded fortress-monastery
     
    I wonder, given that there are no Young Wolf, and Taylor is not it, who is the most killy risen in this timeline? Osiris? Doubtfull that he can solo Oryx in his corporeal form. Or slap Xol around.
     
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    Stahor said:
    I wonder, given that there are no Young Wolf, and Taylor is not it, who is the most killy risen in this timeline? Osiris? Doubtfull that he can solo Oryx in his corporeal form. Or slap Xol around.
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    This is well before the Young Wolf was raised in canon. The battle which the CIty just lost was this fic's version of, I think, Six Fronts. The Destiny timeline is loose in terms of actual dates, but there's almost certainly at least decades before the Black Garden assault.

    Come to think of it, I don't even think it's early enough for Elsie to have come back in time. I wonder if, when she does, she'll remember a future version of this timeline... or the canon one?
     
    Welcome back, Spear. I haven't quite read the new update yet, as I want to reread everything else first, but it's still good to see you're still kicking.
     
    Heat
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    • Heat​
    "You're stretching and folding," said the first Risen, a large man with biceps nearly the size of his head, and a hammer almost as tall as he was.

    "Stretching and folding?" Rose asked, glancing at a vat of still floury looking dough. There was a bucket of water next to it. Upon closer inspection, the vat was thicker than she'd thought, the sides of it at least three inches thick. "Is this a crucible?" she asked, tilting her head. She'd seen similar vessels used for melting down metal to make ingots when better resources weren't accessible. "This is a crucible."

    "I hit the dough," said the man, pointing at his hammer, then at Rose. "You stretch and fold."

    Rose put a hand over the crucible, and looked up dubiously at the man.

    The man made a grabbing motion, then pulled and brought his hand over.

    The mass in the vat was glutinous, powdery flour still not entirely mixed with the dough. There was also enough in it to stick to the sides and make it difficult to pull away. There had to be at least fifty pounds of flour alone. There was a whistle as the hammer rose up in the air.

    Rose jerked her hand back.

    The hammer impacted the dough, bouncing off the surface, sending powder flying into the air. It went everywhere. Rose stared at her hand, which was covered in the fine white powder, then down at herself. If she'd been attempting to kill someone, this would have been an opportunity to set the airborne particles ablaze. Instead, she had a coating of flour. She brushed herself off, waiting for the cloud to settle before breathing.

    "You did not stretch and fold," said the man.

    Rose grimaced, feeling the mask of flour crack with the movement of her face. She stilled herself, then reached into the bucket of water, splashing a handful onto the dough. Her hand dove into the dough, heaving it up and over itself. The hammer came down, and her hand jerked back.

    "Again," said the man. "Faster."

    The process repeated, Rose wetting her hand intermittently, as she gripped and rotated the dough, taking moments to heave it out of the crucible entirely to flip it when indicated. The speed ramped up. The hammer blows came fast and hard, and Rose was forced to move faster and faster, falling into the rhythm until it all too suddenly stopped. "Is this what you do instead of kneading?" she asked, stepping away from the crucible and picking at bits of dough stuck between each digit, and under her nail beds. Wherever she seemed to pick it out of, it seemed to be in two other places. Eventually, she gave up, and watched as her ghost cleaned the mess off her with blue light.

    "Yes," said the man.

    "What next?" Rose asked.

    "We cut and store for rising," said the man, tossing her a knife.

    Rose caught it by the handle. "You don't work with non-Risen much," she said. "Do you."

    "If you get cut, just heat the blade," the man said. "Sterilized."

    "That's," Rose said, raising a hand slightly in disbelief, then lowering it. It wouldn't do any good to argue. "Let's get to work."

    Cutting and shaping the dough went smoothly. He wasn't a stickler, generally fist-sized lumps was enough, tossed onto a metal tray.

    "Khepri," said the man, indicating himself before stretching and cutting another piece of dough.

    "Rose," said Rose.

    "Flour girl," said Khepri, then laughed uproariously at his own joke.

    Rose rankled for a moment, then shook her head, continuing to cut chunks of dough off.

    "Flour girl, where are you from?" Khepri asked.

    "A pile of snow," Rose said, deadpan. "I died multiple times trying to escape it."

    "And that is why you wish to become a Sunbreaker," said Khepri.

    Rose considered Khepri. He seemed competent yet dangerously careless, verging on callous near-harm. It was hard to parse what his end goal was when he was so oddly taciturn while also being boisterous. Was he simply unaware, or was there some level of cunning under the surface? Prodding via wrong answers to rankle her, then provoke a reaction was a viable path to draw out information, and he certainly seemed good at it, whether he was aware or not. "I want to become a Sunbreaker in order to control my Solar Light," she said. "I have issues controlling it."

    Khepri seemed confused by this, setting the last chunks of shaped dough onto a tray. "Why?" he finally asked, after seeming to contemplate what she'd said.

    Rose watched as another Sunbreaker took the sheets away to store. "Why? Because my Solar Light burns me when I use it."

    Khepri shrugged. "Doesn't burn me. Just burn them, don't burn yourself."

    Rose pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is there anything else we need to do?"

    Khepri pointed. "Go help with soup."

    Rose went. The area Khepri had indicated was a few cauldrons, some filled, others empty. "Fewer people, less food needed," Rose muttered to her ghost.

    "More than half," her ghost said. "Or they're making different meals now. Might be forced to use resources they can't afford or don't have space to preserve. They likely bury at least a portion in the snow or in ice boxes when they're out of space, but some food responds poorly to moisture."

    Rose nodded. Odd to see the difficulties created by a surplus. Soup preparation was simpler, albeit more physically uncomfortable. She introduced herself, and they introduced themselves, and gave her a paddle to stir the soup. The consistency was closer to a stew, a mixture of lentils, barley, and other spices, along with some kind of meat she couldn't identify. She could only tell its existence by the thin strands that clung to the paddle as she moved it in circles.

    "Some kind of llama relative," her ghost said.

    "Llama?" Rose asked.

    "Furry four legged animal with a long neck," her ghost said.

    "Like a deer," Rose said.

    "With the coat of a sheep," her ghost said.

    Rose wiped sweat off her brow as she considered it. "Safe to eat?"

    "I don't detect any toxins," her ghost said. "Other than capsaicin."

    "It'll be spicy, then," Rose said, frowning.

    "I'm not saying you're lucky to be able to taste spicy, but I'd want to taste it if I could," her ghost said. "And before you make jokes-"

    "I would never," Rose said.

    Her ghost rolled her eye, letting out an annoyed sigh. "Branch out. Try some new food, you might even enjoy it."

    Rose let out an incredulous huff of air, and continued to stir.


    Breakfast was served from communal bowls. Utensils were handed out, and people took their meals according to what they desired. Many simply left, walking back to their rooms with their meals. Others chatted. Social groups and factions had already formed. Difficult to break into one or another without some method of slipping in.

    Rose thoughtfully scooped some of the sludge into one of the offered wooden bowls. The strong, eye-watering smell was filled with flavor, flavor she wasn't quite sure would fit her preferred palate, but one she would deal with nonetheless. The drink of choice was some kind of snowmelt tea, made from more dubious plants. A branch with red berries was on display next to it. "Holly?" she murmured to her ghost.

    "A close relative," her ghost replied. "Caffeine heavy. Not poisonous."

    "Lots of close relatives that probably won't kill me," Rose said. Nonetheless, she took a mug filled with the drink. The bread was crusty and warm, a safe choice for her to take. Rose chewed thoughtfully on the small loaf. Who to approach?

    Cinder sat at one table with a group of others, but it wasn't a good idea to approach her. Cinder was likely already in Emily's faction, and didn't require convincing.

    Rose sighed, forcing a smile onto her face as she approached the table Khepri sat at.

    "Flour girl!" he said.

    Rose sat across from him, looking at the others who had chosen the same table. "Khepri," she said, then introduced herself. "I'm Rose."

    "Sunbreaker to be?" one said. "At least as much as you'll be able to get in the coming days."

    "Of course," Rose said. It wasn't a good idea to expose weakness around them. Or at least to elaborate too far on her own inability. "I'm just here for the hammer. Thought I'd pick one up."

    One of the people at the table snickered. "Sal," she said, then held out a hand, a hammer slapping into her palm. It existed there, much in the same way Rose's revolver did. It blazed with Solar fire, and yet Sal held it without a care. "Want it?"

    Rose could feel the heat from across the table. Sal tapped it against the wood, leaving blackened scorch marks where it made brief contact. It was a trap. Meant to dissuade her from reaching out. Rose smiled, genuine amusement across her face.

    "Sure," she said, reaching for the hammer without hesitation.

    Sal yanked the hammer back. "How stupid are you?" she asked.

    "Scared?" Rose asked.

    "Of the smell of your charred flesh," Sal said. "The hell's wrong with you?"

    Khepri laughed.

    Rose followed suit. One step at a time to slip in.

    "Emily wants to meet us outside," Rose's ghost whispered. "After we're done."

    Rose gave a slight nod.
    It was cold enough that Rose came with a layer of furs. They kept most of the cold out, but if the snow picked up, they'd be wet once she went inside, and they already smelled musty. She kept following the waypoints, her teeth chattering as she went.

    Emily was standing by a roaring fire.

    "Why couldn't we do this inside?" Rose asked as she approached. She held her hands out to the fire, feeling the warmth.

    "I want to keep this relationship concealed," Emily said. "The longer it stays under wraps, the less reason there is to suspect you of foul play."

    "How screwed up are these politics?" Rose asked. "What are you looking for?"

    "I'm hoping to use you to make compelling testimony to begin branching out," Emily said. "To push my agenda."

    "When?" Rose asked.

    "A week, maybe less. There'll be a meeting discussing what's to be done before we all go our own ways. We're losing people. Just one or two a week, but that'll eat into our numbers fast, especially if it escalates."

    "No endurance," Rose said.

    "Enduring doesn't make you stronger," said Emily. "I've heard a saying people have: Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. You may be able to use your weaknesses to be strong in different ways, but I've seen people ravaged by illness, their organs failing them after surviving what came before."

    "And you're comparing whatever's happened with my Solar Light to that?" Rose asked.

    Emily toyed with her hammer, perhaps unconsciously. Its silver surface shimmered with heat as she spoke. "I think if I tell you directly, you'll push away from it."

    Rose's mouth opened, then her expression hardened. "I'd prefer pushing away from it than cryptic bullshit. You said you want accountability."

    "Yes," Emily said.

    "Why not join the Iron Lords?" Rose asked. "Until recently, they were the ones most likely to be adjudicating, and were proactive in removing Warlord presence. I-"

    "Rose," hissed a voice into Rose's ear. Her ghost, chiding her.

    Rose's mouth snapped shut, and she looked away, then up at the ceiling. Too easy to react, lash out.

    "I joined the Sunbreakers because I disagreed with Iron Decree," said Emily. "People converting relied on a monopoly on violence. When there is no assurance of a fulfilled contract, we rely on the good nature of those with unimaginable power." She breathed out, her breath visible in the cold air. Her lips spread to display her teeth. "I don't trust many to do that. And yet, half the Sunbreakers left. A higher calling."

    "Do you believe that?" Rose asked.

    "I do," Emily said. "In a manner of speaking. I think the cruelty of ethical calculus led them to make a decision to put the survival of humanity over the survival of a necessarily kind humanity."

    "Do you think that was the right decision?" Rose asked, less frustrated and more curious.

    "I'm here, aren't I?" Emily said. "I will admit I didn't foresee the success of the Iron Lords. The equality of knights at a table, helping the downtrodden. A good dream." Her voice sounded wistful, her eyes lingering on some point on the faraway horizon. "But one at odds with reality. To the humans, we're catastrophes. We tumble through their lives like disasters."

    "Titans clashing," Rose said.

    Emily gave a slight nod. Then waited. Waited for Rose to speak, to offer some insight of her own. It felt like manipulation, trying to create the sensation of quid pro quo via divulging information.

    Rose accepted it. "I fought. I fought and fought. The more they escalated, the more I did as well. I burned myself to burn them. An easy sacrifice for me to make." Her body was a tool to be thrown away, another piece of ammo in her arsenal. When it was broken, her ghost would repair it.

    "Promethean," Emily said.

    Rose chuckled. "Sure. I guess, in a manner of speaking. His liver, every day."

    "Yes," Emily said. "Go on."

    "Brutality and swiftness is what determines who wins," Rose said. "A lack of hesitation to reach in and be burned. Viciousness to put them down. Deprive them of their Light. Make them hesitate while you push in. Harry them. Prevent them from thinking clearly, taunt them. Kill them, make them think you aren't paying attention, then kill their ghost. Whatever it takes to win."

    Rose looked at Emily, who didn't seem stunned or even concerned. Just sitting, waiting.

    "When I fought," Rose said. "The odds were very rarely in my favor. Asymmetric warfare was necessary to win. I wouldn't have won if I had played fair. I did my best to never involve civilians. But whether I liked it or not, they were involved, if only by my passing and killing.

    "Warlords would shoot at me and hit them. Do I assign blame to them? Was there another way? I don't know. I envy the Iron Lords. Having clear ethical boundaries."

    "What separates us from the Warlords?" Emily asked. "I'm not accusing, only looking for points of separation you consider important."

    Rose stared past Emily, looking at the earth below. The greenery had long since overtaken the remnants of old cities, but artifacts of the past still sometimes sliced through. One last momentary defiance before being consumed. "They want to take," she said. "Selfishness. A lack of empathy for those around them. Bullies who feel might makes right. And it does. We have to stop it from being true. We were gifted with immense power. We have to use it responsibly, and prevent others from using it irresponsibly. Wouldn't you agree?"

    "Are you trying to make your answer more appealing to me, knowing my stated beliefs?" Emily asked, giving Rose an amused look. "I do agree. Those with power by necessity must not abuse it. Abuse undermines any attempts at reciprocal relations. Accountability is a necessity in any advancing systems of rights. Look at us. We are infinitely more powerful than Lightless humans. The best chance any Lightless has is to use overwhelming force and kill our ghost the instant it emerges. Each of us has the potential to be an army. We are only held in check by our conscience, and until recently, the rule of law."

    Rose stared down at her clenched fist, remembering the feel of catching ghosts out of the air, of sighting down the barrel of a gun and taking them out of the air. Her nails bit into her palm, and then she forced herself to relax. "The Iron Lords will have suffered a blow."

    "I don't have all the details," Emily said. "I'm working on gathering what I can. You said Firebreak went out in a blaze of glory?"

    Rose nodded.

    "Disappointing," Emily said. "Good people. They would have made them fight for every inch of ground."

    "Pilgrim Guard might have gone to help," Rose said. "Don't know how many would've made it out."

    "What is your plan?" Emily asked.

    "Once you take control?" Rose asked. "Once I finish mastering Solar?" She knew what she needed. She needed power. Resources. The ability to punch past their defenses, before they could fight back. To retake the City. "The Iron Lords and whatever's left of the Pilgrim Guard. Anyone who will come. I have Eliksni allies. They'll help. They know what's at stake. And then I'm going to track down what's left of the Warminds."

    "You're going to chase down legends," Emily said.

    "I've been in their vaults," Rose said. "Resources destroyed and squandered. I've seen what their weapons can do firsthand. If I have to fight, I'm not going to fight fair. That's how I lose. I have a fragment. If there's any time to use it…" she trailed off. "I don't want to make the wrong choice. But we're surrounded with them. We can't let the Warlords win."

    "I'm not satisfied," Emily said. "I won't commit forces until you produce evidence."

    Rose nodded. She wouldn't believe herself either. But her mind was on the black prism, with its carbon fiber frame. Empty, but there were clues to be gleaned. But first: "Solar," she said. "You'll still help me."

    "I will," Emily said. "But it's going to be a constant struggle against yourself. It'll take years to fully master. What you're doing is learning to express a highly destructive tool in a productive manner as quickly as possible. There will be setbacks. You will not do this on the first try, nor will you be as capable as others who have committed their time to it. My intent is to help you be safe so you can use it in conjunction with your other abilities. Do we have an agreement?"

    Rose put out her hand. Emily took it, clasping it in her own.
     
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