Drums boom and flower petals flutter in the breeze. Bright colors and soft fabric, armor and humble tunics—civilians and Guardians mingle freely in the streets, and Eliksni and Human children shriek with laughter as they chase playful Ghosts.

Ikora stays out of the way, watching from behind a wooden screen. This isn't an official parade, and her presence is not required.

"Why don't we join them anyways?" Ophiuchus blinks sidelong at her, knowing.

Ikora understands. The Witness is defeated. The greatest enemy the City has ever faced, the architect of humanity's Collapse, has been felled. She should feel hopeful, and glad, and festive.

Instead, she only feels dread.

For countless years, the threat of the Witness had loomed large. The shadow it cast spanned the whole of the Last City—of the Sol system, of the universe. So vast, it eclipsed all other threats.

And now that it has fallen, the uncertain future stretches out before her.

"Our fight goes on," she says. "Some days, I think it will never end." Not with her. Not with Zavala or Crow. Perhaps not even with the legendary Guardian.

"It probably won't." Ophiuchus bobs, sanguine. "But it's not a zero-sum game."

A small hand tugs at Ikora's sleeve. She looks down and meets the bright-eyed gaze of a little girl. The child offers her a fistful of daffodils.

For the first time that day, Ikora smiles.