The H.E.L.M., The Moon's Orbit

The Guardian listens to a message on the radio in the Wing of the Haunted

Caiatl: Conquering one's demons is a noble task. There are many stories of Cabal heroes who did the same. Now, they live forever, as legends.

Zavala: I don't want to be a legend, Caiatl.

Caiatl: Too late. Even we have stories about the great "Commander Zavala," only we do not call him that.

Zavala: Did you need something, Empress?

Caiatl: This is not a formal communication. This is… a private reckoning. One warrior to another.

Zavala: I see. I've fought countless battles where my life was on the line. Won and lost them. Nothing like this. Never as hard.

Caiatl: Hm. As I told your Crow once: battles fought in the theater of the mind and heart are just as brutal as ones fought with flesh and bone. We all… bear our scars. Victories, defeats. Some openly with pride, some others hidden away beneath layers of shameful armor. This battle was the most honest of your Risen life. You won.

Zavala: I don't feel like I've won any battles. I just feel… tired. And old.

Caiatl: And yet, you still stand.