No name 686771917 DestinyUnlockDefinition

ENTRY 12 - Debtor's Knife 4064244886 DestinyLoreDefinition

This page is blighted with mold and the imprint of a memory… The words seep experience into your open mind… THROUGH THE EYES OF GILGAMESH… I linger on the corpse of my once-Guardian. I've hidden his shame for so long. I believed it was my obligation, to be the warmth when his fire died… but now, I see that obligation was a leash to keep me tied to life. It is a cold, coiled, choking reality, and I will hang gasping from it no more. See the truth, the whispers had offered. I saw it in every moment suffered aboard this vessel. A microcosm of violence extrapolated to the world beyond, with only one escape. Soon Katabasis would know it too. Scorn onlookers surround us. I raise Katabasis. "Gilly…" Katabasis kneels before me, his rifle beside him. "What is this?" "A way out. I won't carry you anymore." "You're… abandoning me?" Katabasis looks to the Scorn, his rifle, his Ghost—no. No longer. Not his, not the Traveler's, not anyone's. "I sacrificed everything to keep you moving forward. Guided you to every power you needed to survive." I share the truth he wants to forget. "And for what? It never ends anything. There's always more." The Scorn encroach across disjointed walkways. Katabasis sinks. "You said you wouldn't…" "You, the Traveler. You've kept me trapped in this death knell. Now it's time to set us free." "What does that mean?" His words like stone weights. "Sever our Light, or they'll rip you apart for a thousand lives." I gesture to the Scorn. "You wouldn't." "Your deaths are heavy, Katabasis, but I'll bring you back as many times as it takes for you to learn." He does not understand. "You think I don't feel pain? You think I don't suffer while you're hiding in your limbo?" Katabasis lurches forward. "I did everything YOU asked me to." "YOU LEFT!" I shout. "You left me here. You left me in the City. Made me turn away from the Traveler. We're like the Scorn in those tanks, drowning in panic… confusion… forever. You did that." "The City was burning, and I wanted to live. Everything was… so we could live." He still didn't see it. This place is no different than Sol. A barrel of blood. There's no reason to go back. "Now the Light is burning." "We can survive this." Katabasis holds out his palm for me. "Please?" "I don't want survival, Katabasis." I drift away from him. "I want salvation." "…It got to you," Katabasis sobs weakly, his epiphany complete. "You can end this, for both of us. It's your turn to sacrifice," I offer. "Everything you say is a lie!" Katabasis grasps for his rifle. Lever-to-action. Shot to nothingness. Ghost to dead memory. FRENETIC SCRAWL INKED IN THE MARGIN READS: Water under the bridge, flooded with bodies waiting to stand again in the next wave. Be careful.

Author of Devastation 555020481 DestinyCollectibleDefinition

Equip this weapon ornament to change the appearance of Wish-Ender. Once you get an ornament, it's unlocked for all characters on your account.

Entry I 1489617032 DestinyLoreDefinition

By the mind of Match, Shadow Councilor to the True Emperor. Upon the Leviathan, helpless to alter its course. Today I pour out water from the Y-goblet, so that my ancestors may wash their eyes. My every thought and purpose for my Emperor, Calus, once and future sovereign. We pass through the outer marches of our lost empire. One day the Leviathan howls along at speed, and the next it drifts on an idle course. We still cannot repair the butchered control systems, and our Emperor, who once ordered this ship's construction for his purposes, refuses to share his knowledge in metaconcert. Yet as we leave the space that was once his dominion, I see how my Emperor digests his situation. He no longer rages and spills wine. He has not cursed Ghaul's name in nearly a year. I feel his thoughts taking new shape and color. I do not know if I like it. In the fast-time of relativity, we watch the Cabal change around us, and it leaves my eye cold from weeping. When Calus reigned, artists and thinkers visited the athenaeum worlds to be inspired by alien wonders from across and beyond the Cabal. Now the athenaeum worlds are shut. The works they inspired have been replaced by grim assembly-line weapons and the architecture of bunkers. Fountains geyser black fuel; gardens vanish beneath belching factoria. Ghaul has even disfigured the peoples' minds. He has dismembered the Cabal of its foreign influences, teaching the people a pit fighter's gruesome self-sufficiency. Weapons only a grunt can understand. Language that can only be barked through a battlenet. I mourn the empire that built wonders like the Ninth Bridge. I mourn all the client species beaten into cogs. But if I mourn, my Emperor withers entirely. Even his interest in the archives and the observatory has vanished—he no longer cares to study a universe that has offended him. He doubts his own divinity, because how could a god allow this to happen? His rage has gone and he does not know what he has left after it. The new shape I feel in his mind is gray and smooth like fog. Among my people—I mean my people, the people of the chalice, not the whole Psion species—we call this feeling "sweet oubliette," the shelter that becomes a prison. For Calus, I imagine it feels like the loss of all appetite. Even the curiosity that made him great. The councilors ask me to go to him. But I am still afraid. What if he sees my secret? What will he do? Even his beloved tea-seller has already abandoned him. If he knows I still worship the old cup, and that I put it before His Name in my benediction... will it be one betrayal too many? At least he no longer bellows in the night.