He Who Fights with Stars

"You can't outrun the sunrise"-Liu Feng.

"Eyes up, Guardian."

The small mechanical voice cut through the silence like a struck bell.

"Huh? What the hell?" The guardian sat up slowly, blinking against the light.

"I said, eyes up, Guardian." The little Ghost orbited him in a quick, curious loop, its shell panels flicking open and shut.

"Why don't I remember anything? What did you do to me?"

The Ghost paused — a gesture that, for a floating geometric machine, managed to look remarkably like a sigh. "You were dead. Dead for quite some time. I revived you. I'm a Ghost — a being made by the Traveler, the source of the Light. The Traveler creates beings like me to seek out individuals worth empowering, and you," it said, drifting closer, "were worth finding."

The guardian stared at it. "...That's a lot."

"It is. And I'd love to unpack all of it, but there are things lurking in the dark that I'd rather not introduce you to on your first day of being alive."

"Okay. Yeah. Get me somewhere safe."

Several hours later, they arrived at the Tower.

Commander Zavala stood where he always stood — arms folded, expression carved from patience and duty — and turned as they approached.

"Ah. A new Guardian." Something in his bearing softened, just slightly. "Greetings. I am Commander Zavala."

"Commander," the Ghost said, rising to eye level, "this is the new Titan I told you about. I found him in—"

"Commander!"

A young warlock came sprinting across the courtyard, robes billowing, datapad clutched to her chest. "Commander, Vanguard Ikora needs you right now — she said it's important, " she said.

Zavala glanced at the new guardian, then at the warlock. "Very well. Guardian — stay here." He turned. "Eunbi. Keep our new arrival company."

Magenta skidded to a halt and watched him go. Then she turned to the guardian with the focused attention of someone cataloguing a new specimen.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Eunbi. What's your name?"

The guardian looked at his Ghost. The Ghost looked at the guardian. The guardian looked back at Magenta and shrugged.

Magenta squinted. "No name?"

Another shrug.

"Okay," she said, undeterred. "Well, that won't do." She studied him — the set of his jaw, the quiet weight behind his eyes, the way he stood like someone who didn't yet know what they were capable of. "...Ginga...and your ghost can be named Blazar. Since you have this starry vibe going on."

The Ghost's shell snapped open. "As in Ginga the Starscourge? The demigod of gravity?"

Magenta blinked at it. "I don't know about all that. I just know he was a hero who protected people from the stars, and it cost him everything." She glanced back at the guardian. "Seems like an honorable name to grow into."

The guardian — Ginga — considered this for a moment. Then he smiled. "Okay."

"Good. Come on, let's get food."

"Magenta," her Ghost said patiently, "Guardians don't need to eat."

"It's not for sustenance," she said, already walking. "It's for sensation.

There's a difference."

Ginga followed.

They ended up at a small ramen booth tucked into the Last City's lower market, their Ghosts hovering nearby like mismatched lanterns. Magenta leaned across the counter and nodded at the weapon holstered at his side. " So New Light. How are you adjusting?"

"Yeah..." Ginga wrapped both hands around the bowl set in front of him, feeling the warmth, "Oh, it's a lot...But I am getting there quickly. Blazar is a bunch of help," Ginga added. Magenta smiled before noticing the shiny handcannon on his waist.

"And the Sunshot — that was your first exotic engram?"

He nodded.

Magenta smiled, turning back to her own bowl. "It suits you."

Ginga smiled and said, "Thanks, Genta." Magenta smiled as she went back to her food.

Between bites, Magenta set down her chopsticks and asked, "So, how much do you actually know? About being a Guardian?"

Ginga chewed through the pork, thinking. "We're Light-empowered. The Traveler made us what we are." He paused. "The Fallen, the Cabal, the Hive — those are the big threats. The Hive, especially." Another pause. "Three human races: Human, Awoken, Exo. Some Guardians just got out of the Infinite Forest. Still figuring out what comes next."

Magenta stared at him. "Your Ghost briefed you on the entire walk here, didn't he?"

The Ghost said nothing, which was answer enough.

"I like to be prepared," it said finally.

Magenta snorted and picked her chopsticks back up. "Okay, so you're not completely in the dark." She twirled noodles slowly. "Then my real question is — what do you want to do with all of it?"

Ginga didn't hesitate. "Crucible."

Magenta looked up. Something shifted in her expression — not surprise exactly, more like recognition. She smiled.

"Alright, New Light." She lifted her bowl. "Let's see what you're made of."

They found Shaxx's booth the way you found most things in the Tower — by following the noise.

His voice carried before they even rounded the corner, a rolling thunderclap of enthusiasm directed at no one in particular. But as Ginga and Magenta approached, another figure was already heading the opposite direction — hands in his coat pockets, unhurried, wearing a grin as if he'd just won something.

The Drifter looked Ginga up and down the way a man appraises a warhorse.

"Well." He clicked his tongue. "Aren't you a giant slab of meat, Guardian?"