Toland on Light Bearers

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It is no mere coincidence that you, the slayer of Ghaul, have been drawn to this place.
To perform a ritual of sacrifice is to tempt a god’s hunger. Your very presence here is a kind of ritual. You present your Light so freely…
Hundreds of Guardian souls shattered against the edges of Crota’s blade the day of the Great Disaster, their Light consumed by his ambition.
In our own time of need, we failed ourselves. Crota struck us down en masse and destroyed much of what was built here, Moonbase included.

The Traveler had come, it had brought us into a Golden Age. And yet little from that era mattered in the shadow of Crota.
Osiris! Osiris, Osiris, can you hear me?
Wei Ning. Sjur Eido. Saint-14. Heroes, all of them, and they are all dead.
What is your Ghost but an externalization of your death? A tiny, chattering oversoul…
Countless Guardians perished not just on the battlefields of the Great Disaster, but within the lair of the Hive as well.

Having lured them in, the Hive had a plan. It was domination and death. For Guardians, there was no escape that day.
Oh, Eriana – vengeful Eriana. Crota may have taken her Light, but she left her soul on the battlefield.

She had a death wish long before she approached me. In the end, of course, she blamed me for what happened. Pride begets death.
Eris torments herself for her erstwhile fireteam and the fates we marched into together. An appreciated, but needless penance.

Our struggle is a grand dialogue. We exchange blood for understanding. It is not tragedy. It is simply the price, and ours to pay.
In the quest to fell Crota, we brought with us the desire for vengeance. We brought ego.

But with me, I brought curiosity. Reverence. Fascination. And as such, here I sit, my soul still bound to existence.

With the exception of Eris, I can’t say the same for the rest.
Eris, Eris, what a name, a name for discord, a name for far cold orbits where no living thing should dare to go…
Omar Agah entered these depths with his own unique faults: disbelief and distrust. But beneath it all was his truth: fear.

The Hive fed off this very fear. Poor Eris had to watch as his Light was stripped from his soul and his essence used to strengthn the Hive.
Eris was the first to bring the Pyramid to life…was it of her will? Or the Pyramid’s?

The Hive must hate her for it after trying for so long to do the same and failing.

Or perhaps it’s relief they feel. After so much time, they can finally pursue its power, whether it wants them to or not.
I entered the Hellmouth with a sense of fateful inevitability. We should all die, or worse. I knew this to be true.

Woefully unprepared was what we were. I stand by that. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t respect them. I did then, and I always will.
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