"Greetings, Guardian," Xûr says slowly as you arrive in his impossible space. "I have knowledge of a matter that was once lost, but is now prepared to come home."

The expression on his face is serene. "There is comfort in returning matter to its correct place, is there not?"

Before you can answer, he opens his palm. A swirling of particles, fine as iron filings, form a familiar face: Shaw Han. "This legend begins where all new legends do: the Cosmodrome," Xûr says. "Where it ends is up to you."

"The trumpet sounds again, Guardian," he whispers, and that is all.