Before they took the Traveler away, we thought we were tough. All of us. But man, without the Ghosts, we became real vulnerable for a while. At least I did. Ghaul absolutely had us pegged.

A bunch of Fallen were trying to establish a base of operations near the old Nessus crash site after the boss left. When Trake and I arrived on Nessus to help organize resistance against the Red Legion, we engaged the Fallen—we couldn't let them build up their forces.

So the ground trembles when one of the Fallen transports blows up, and I lose my grip on my rifle—it slips right down the ridge we're taking cover behind. I've never felt so stupid, and I… I couldn't move.

Trake shakes me out of my stupor, and we scramble over the ridge to get my rifle. I slide down and grab it while he covers me. It feels like the world is frozen in place. I can still picture him shooting round after round as we head back to safety.

He's right on my heels, but… I'm sorry. No, he, uh, he was hit in the neck and, uh, that was it.

The fear—I can't describe it at all. But I remember it in my bones.