A New Sun

arrogance-is-my-middlename:

A short thing on Osiris and the loss of Light

Silence between the two of them wasn’t uncommon, nor particularly unwelcome, but this one was so much… heavier. Panoptes had shifted focus, just for an instant, and there was a reality branch that had processing power boosted—a clear indication that something in the real world had shifted. Osiris didn’t know what it was that caused it (when was the last time he had been aware of anything outside the Forest?), but if Panoptes cared then Osiris cared.

Whilst the Vex Mind never had mastered the trick of simulating Light (“How could anyone simulate something as great as me?” Sagira had jeered), he got around that by using combat data from thousands of encounters with Guardians, especially the Vault of Glass, to approximate as best as he could. It was clever and not entirely pointless, but there was enough of a percent error caused by the simple unpredictability of Guardians. Beings of paracausality are particularly frustrating like that. The gift of deciding one’s own fate cannot be overstated, and Osiris knows the instant the Vex learn to bind the Light and its Guardians to the rules of fate, all is lost. The burst of processing power to a seemingly innocuous reality branch is, for this very reason, a cause for concern.

“Panoptes will be there,” Sagira warns. “An effort like this won’t be easily abandoned. We can’t face him directly.”

“Then we won’t,” Osiris replies dismissively. “I’ve sent one of my echoes to investigate.”

“Echoes can be traced.”

“Which is why the message of whatever is found will be handed off to many echoes. Panoptes is not omniscient, if he was this game of hide and seek would’ve been lost long ago.”

Sagira grumbles more about how she doesn’t like it, but in the end Osiris wins the argument (as he always does).

 xxxxx

It turns out that her worries were baseless however. The reality branch comes to life before the echoes of Osiris can even reach it, and for the first time in centuries, Osiris feels fear.

The light leaving him is violent, visceral and profound in ways too painful for true comprehension. He feels every molecule of his being forcefully cut away from the Light, as the node of power that has always been so very bright inside him is stamped out mercilessly. Sagira’s screams of pain are the only thing that keeps him conscious and moving, so he cradles his fallen companion and takes shelter in the deepest corner of the Forest he can find. Panoptes has put so little effort and processing power into this small branch that Osiris can see the objects and lifeforms literally load into being as he stumbles forward. It’s almost laughable, really, but the way Sagira shudders in his hand sobers him.

xxxxx

“It’s the Cabal,” an echo tells him later. “The Red Legion descended on the City and caged the traveler. Panoptes is simulating Guardians without light now.” Osiris feels rage (or is it despair?) but Sagira tells the echo to monitor Panoptes “just in case”.

“What does it matter? The Vex stayed their hand because they could not defeat the Light. Now there is no Light at all.”

Sagira tilts her frame forward, almost challengingly. “Nothing is lost forever, Osiris. I can—I can feel the Light. It’s still there. Someone has it.”

xxxxx

She’s right. Osiris doesn’t fully understand how she knew, but Sagira was right, and he cannot help but smile at the clear frustration that Panoptes cannot properly simulate just one single Guardian. Because that Guardian has the Light, they are paracausal, and for Osiris, that is enough. He is patient, he tells himself. He can wait and watch on the sidelines, just this once. Panoptes maintains this almost accurate simulation to adjust accordingly to what shifts in reality, and Osiris is a silent and unknown attendee to the spectacle.

Months pass. The Guardian is impressive, in their own way, but Osiris is… confused. He has theories on how the Guardian got their Light back (Panoptes himself creates several simulations, all different, but they don’t end quite right and it always opens up inaccurate reality paths), but the aged Warlock cannot figure out why it is this Guardian. They are neither the strongest nor smartest, and if Osiris is being honest, their biggest claim to fame is simply being the one with the job handed to them. Osiris is not a humble man, but he’s no fool either. There were so many other better candidates, stronger candidates, Guardians who were so absurdly close to the light that they hurt to look at. Shin Malphur, who was born and not revived, Ana Bray who was so full of Light that she leaked wells of it at Twilight Gap. Any member of the Vanguard would have been wise; Ikora effortlessly flowed between Arc and Void with little hesitance and struggle and who had been beyond terrifying when she ran Crucible runs with the Invective ever present in her hands, Cayde 6 who (Osiris loathed to admit this) had amassed more powerful weaponry than any other living Guardian simply because he was that good, and Zavala, who was strong enough for the ever-taciturn Saladin to take on as a pupil alongside only one other. Speaking of, Osiris had to admit that even Shaxx would’ve been a wise choice. Though if it had to be a Titan, Osiris would’ve wanted it to be Saint 14 who—no, he forced himself not to think about that. Osiris knew where Saint had went. Osiris had not let himself follow his brother the Titan, not when the research was this important.

“They’re making progress,” Sagira notes.

Osiris adjusts his position and frowns as the simulation plays out in front of him. “They found Ikora on Io, managed to even drag her back.”

Sagira spins her tines, something Osiris has come to realize is an expression of quiet excitement. “They can’t lose now, not with Ikora back.” Osiris agrees, but he doesn’t vocalize it. 

And then… 

The attack. Ghaul dissolves and the Traveler explodes in order to escape its cage and Osiris wonders if maybe the once-dead God Machine is every bit as angry as the Guardians are when they retake their torn apart City. He speculates and he muses until he isn’t because Sagira is screaming again but this time it’s elation and joy and he feels the Light reconnect with his synapses and Osiris feels true strength that he hasn’t felt in months flow back into him in a rush. In a fit of curiosity and relief he lets the Light fill him, ready to embrace the Song of the Sun he had once so powerfully drawn upon, but this time it’s different and Osiris realizes that he is no Sunsinger, not anymore. 

What was once uncontrolled and wild Solar Light that had filled him to the brim and spilled out so spectacularly that death shrank away in fear, was now concentrated and centered around rage and need. Osiris still felt himself float off the ground as he had once did as a Sunsinger, but this time he felt the Light coalesce and form the Dawnblade in his hand and he knew that the time of endless praise and raw power had been shaken off. Now he wielded Light as a weapon and with strength to not just chase away the Darkness but to cut it down. He lets the blade fade from his finger tips and the sun fire cool and recede. The stripping of the Light had fundamentally changed the army of faithful undead that called themselves Guardians, and this sword was just a symbol of that change. As Sagira whooped and chattered in pure unfiltered joy, Osiris felt himself wonder, for once without apprehension and dread, what could possibly happen next.

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