Yor wasn't faster than Jaren. And Jaren didn't miss. Yor was just more than Jaren. Yor was other. It took fire to burn him down, and Jaren, for all his gifts, was lacking in fire. We all were. Not saying I was first. The lessons I learned, the ability I honed to ignite my rage and direct it through my cannon? Those were hard lessons learned on a hard, hot planet. Before Osiris's exile. Before the Gap. My pilgrimage was long and pained and driven by my hate. But that was the point. Skill was not enough. Confidence was no weapon. Not when faced with the terrors of the Dark. Yor knew this. Yor counted on it.

So, when Jaren faced him down, Yor gave him the first shot, offered freely. But Jaren's lead wasn't enough. And when Yor replied, his sickness consumed Jaren's Light and left me, once again, an orphan. Once again, weighed down by sorrow and anger. Yor sought to gift me Jaren's prize as a means to tempt me. And it did. When that gun finally met my hand again, it was the catalyst that drove me to find a way to avenge all I had loved. It was a selfish pursuit.

But when Yor and I finally met on the flat, high ridge, I was ready, and, as I would come to find, so was he. Ready to offer his final lesson, his final gift. A final push toward my true destiny.

One that would put me at odds with heroes in order to ensure our worlds are filled with fewer monsters. It was a path I was sure to walk alone, until I found others, until I found trust.

Until I found hidden value in that which I had always feared…

Shadows.

—S.