Playlists 500105683 DestinyTraitDefinition

Vanguard, Crucible, and Gambit quests.

Thrilladrome Solo Mastery 1364118393 DestinyRecordDefinition

Complete the Thrilladrome Lost Sector on Master difficulty, without a fireteam.

Chapter 6 – Beguiled 3230019576 DestinyLoreDefinition

The condensation from the air vent dripped in a near-perfect 4/4 time signature, a slow metronome, behind Brother Vance's shoulder. He nodded to the rhythm while he waited. "She'll see you now." He felt more like a prisoner than an esteemed guest, but he also considered how rare the audience he'd garnered was. Vance expected the red carpet, or whatever the Awoken equivalent of that is, to be rolled out for him. The information he'd amassed would surely warrant such pomp and circumstance. Perhaps after their conversation the tone would shift. How could it not? The Queen's Paladins escorted Brother Vance through the Reef's interconnected tunnels. It was musky and due for a cleaning as far as his nose could observe. He always took note of the paths he'd traveled, a useful device in case of a need of escape. Two rights, a left, a doorway, a long hallway, six stairs, and another doorway. The air here was much clearer than Mercury; probably filtered, he assumed. "The Queen of the Reef, Her Majesty, Mara Sov." Announced one of the Paladins in a rather boisterous manner. There were others in the room, Vance noted. "My lady." Vance said, paying her the obeisance he felt she deserved, genuflecting before her grace. "Speak," she commanded. Was he a dog to her? "I was hoping this would be more of a conversation than a presentation." Vance replied. He felt this was already off on the wrong foot. "I do not have time to converse. Do you have something for me or not?" "I have a great many things. Truths that must be acknowledged with ramifications reaching far beyond these walls. It requires your extraordinary insight." "Then speak." Vance curled his lip and let out a low sigh. "You seek something in return?" Queen Mara, perceptive as always. "I do. The information I have is extremely sensitive and I ask the room be cleared until we've spoken." Queen Mara considered this, put her hand up, and locked eyes with Petra for a second. The room cleared out. "We are alone. Say what you came to say." "I've discovered something quite disturbing, yet wholly revelatory. As you know, we've been running the Trials for some time now. On Mercury there exists a spire, one of many, that we've called the Lighthouse. Inside, a two-toned note resonates whenever Guardian death occurs. It's a strange and almost imperceptible sound, but I hear it as clearly as I hear your voice today. The tone tells me…" "…that Guardians have dangerous potential within them." "My Queen…" "Why do you think I allow you to stay here? You believe you have occupied my Reef without my knowledge of the studies you conduct?" "How did you…" Vance was awestruck. "We know this truth. We are Awoken. We are balance. Brother Vance, I would advise you to finish up your Trials with a defter hand and to destroy all records of your findings. You've stumbled onto something too grand in scale for your comprehension. Keep this to yourself." Brother Vance's head hung low, and his shoulders slumped. "You know everything, and yet I have learned nothing beyond what I came here with. I would like some clarity." Queen Mara looked over Vance. While she didn't feel compassion toward him, his situation was unfortunate. "Come closer." Vance's head slowly returned upright. Did he hear her correctly? "Closer, I said." Vance took several steps up to her throne. The air around Mara seemed to shift—it was more elegant, crisp upon his tongue. Her words carried more cleanly through it, somehow. "I cannot offer you any clarity. The Universe will reveal all when the time comes. There is, however, something you can do for me." "Yes, anything." Vance was desperate to get back in her good graces. She leaned in, whispering near his ear. "When you see our friend…"

Titan 1115203081 DestinyPresentationNodeDefinition

Waking 2286251484 DestinyLoreDefinition

I am the first Speaker to see a Ghost. The way we tell it, after the Collapse, the Traveler cut itself into a thousand tiny pieces and sent them out into the world. These tiny pieces are drawn to me, and to others like me, like moths. The first time I saw them, I thought they were surveillance drones, but up close, they were nothing like our old technology, not really. The way they move seems organic and natural. They spin their shells like they are ruffling feathers; their little forward-facing lights blink like eyes. "We're called Ghosts," one of them said to me once, hovering at my shoulder as I tended a cook-fire. "Why?" I asked, gentle, casual. They're all different, these Ghosts. Many of them are like children, curious and friendly. Some are world-weary from the moment they're born. The Ghost spun his silver petals, considering. "Because we're searching, I think." It's a good enough answer for me. I'm searching, too. I let the little Ghosts follow me. We talk about what the Traveler was like before the Collapse. They like to hear it, and I like to remember. Deep in their core, they remember, too, I think. They remember a time when they were all one piece. Still, they like to ask what the Traveler told me, and I recount all the dreams I can still remember. I haven't dreamed since the Collapse, and this is almost—almost, almost—like dreaming again. Today, at twilight, one of the shy and quiet Ghosts who has been lingering at my side asks if I will follow her out into the valley. I should say no, but she sounds hopeful. And I am curious. We travel for several hours. The land here is recovering—not just from the Collapse, but from the time before it. Resources for our settlement are scarce, but nature is creeping back in, and nature is cruel now. It's been starving and confused for decades, jostled out of its natural order, and now we reap the consequences. Wolves steal our livestock. Mange-ridden bears wander through our compound late at night, pawing at our doors. The land is so thick with the memory of poison that it won't grow crops. We protect ourselves from this recovering world as best we can, and we rarely go out at night. But I'm drawn by a curiosity that feels beyond me. The Ghost leads me to a barn with a sagging roof. She asks me to wait out of sight—she says, "I think you'll scare her." I don't fully understand what she means. I crouch and watch as she hovers over the years-old remains of a person, barely recognizable as something that was once living. The Ghost floats over the body nervously, and then scans it with pale light. In front of my eyes, flesh grows over old bones and tattered rags stitch themselves together. The person, a woman, gasps and sits up. I can't believe it. The Ghost hovers close to her new companion and says something quiet and reassuring. I can't hear. I feel amazed, and then jealous, and then ashamed.