"The Nine watch you, Guardian. I do not know why, because nobody can know the Nine."

Xûr spasms in an unpredictable cadence. A tentacle wafts out from his hood to float near you. Your skin hears its aroma.

By the time you process the sensation, an object has appeared in Xûr's hand.

"I hand you this gift, but I am nothing, so know that it is of and from the Nine. Your acceptance is arbitrary."