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Memory of Safiyah: In the Dark Age, there were many small settlements scattered across the land. Caravans braved the wilds to deliver supplies to those in need. I often rode with them. It never hurt to have a surgeon along, just in case. Civilization has collapsed. All humanity had ever built was buried in rubble. And yet, as we traveled, I saw how nature continued to thrive around us. When all seems lost, look not to the ruins. See that saplings that sprout anew and remember that life endures.
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Memory of Safiyah: There was a time when Guardians walked shoulder to shoulder with the people under their protection. That was before the walls and towers. When hope was our only shield, and community our refuge. I can see why Zavala thinks that keeping people safe means keeping them at arm's length. I understand that all too why. But perhaps one day, he can remember how things used to be. And how they could be again.
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Memory of Safiyah: Humans have short memories. How could we not? In the face of infinity, our lives are so incredibly fleeting. It may sometimes seem that no single life matters, that the actions of one person are almost immediately lost to time. But... the handful of years I spent with Zavala forever changed his life. And in turn, he changed the lives of all he met afterward. Including yours. Perhaps we are merely pebbles skipping across the surface of an ocean. But the ripples we create continue onward, long after we sink into the sea.
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Memory of Safiyah: When he was just a boy, Hakim asked Zavala how to become strong. Zavala smiled and said, "What makes you think I'm strong?" "Because can kill the Fallen," Hakim answered. Zavala shared a look with me before he spoke again. "Killing doesn't make you strong," he told Hakim. "The strongest people are the ones who lift others up." Always remember that you are one of the strongest people Zavala has ever met. And it is not because you know how to kill.
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Memory of Safiyah: The Fallen were only one of many threats humanity faced in the Dark Age. Famine, disease, exposure... Warlords. I once asked Zavala's Ghost, Targe, why one of his kind would ever raise a Warlord. He answered with a question of his own: If a Warlord's soldier stumbled into our camp, bleeding out, would I tend to their wounds? Or let them die? Targe, of course, already knew what I would decide. That is why I cannot fault a Ghost for whom they raise. Not when I would do the same.
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Memory of Safiyah: Zavala used to talk about the Last City late into the night. Back then, it was a dream. An impossible, beautiful dream. A place for people to live and not just survive. Everyone speaks about the Golden Age in terms of progress and potential. But do you know what I pined for the most? The simple pleasure of a boring day spent with those I love. That was what Zavala yearned to build. If he was at all successful, then I know he would sacrifice everything to protect it. Not for himself, but for all who call it home.
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Memory of Safiyah: The Light can perform miracles. I have seen it set broken bones, replace lost skin... even reconstruct someone from a pile of ash. With that kind of gift, it can be easy to think of yourself as invincible. Immune to harm. But trust me, Guardian... there are some wounds that even the Light cannot heal.
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Memory of Safiyah: How do you measure an eternity? How much value is there in nearly two decades of an immortal man's life? Even after we parted ways, I never uprooted the part of myself that Zavala planted in my chest. It still grew. Thrived. The daughter I raised was raised by him too, in a way. In the lessons he taught me, in the parts of me he changed forever. Just like I changed him.
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Memory of Safiyah: Amanda Holliday. Do you know her, Guardian? I never met her myself, of course. I have seen her only through Zavala's eyes. He looks at her the same way he looked at Hakim. An orphan in need of a family, someone for him to protect. But like Hakim, Amanda is of her own mind. She does what she feels is right, no matter the risk. I hope this time, Zavala can learn to accept that.
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Memory of Safiyah: Before there were Guardians, there were the Iron Lords. They thought themselves a noble order of knights, like in the ancient legends. None more so than Saladin. He never said so aloud, but you could tell by looking at him that he cherished his sisters and brothers-in-arms. Do you ever think of him alone on that peak all those years? His solitary, eternal vigil? I hope that one day, Saladin finds solace in a new order of knights.
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Memory of Ghaul: Do you know the legend of Acrius, Guardian? First Emperor of the Cabal... he who defeated a mighty beast to claim the sun. When Caiatl tells the story, she speaks of the warriors who gave their lives to wound the beast first, paving the way for Acrius's victory. She means to say that the source of the Cabal's strength is the empire itself, not the one who leads it. But I hear a different message. To be remembered, one must write their own legend. Strike the final blow, or be forgotten. This is the way of the Cabal.
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Memory of Ghaul: To be a gladiator is to earn the right to live with every battle. Victory bought one more day. Defeat meant death. Once, in the coliseum, that fate loomed over me: a cleaver poised to fall upon my neck. In what would be my final moment, I looked to the crowd. Calus sat upon the royal balcony, dispassionate. But then I saw Caiatl. The look in her eyes issuing a silent command: "Win and live."
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Memory of Ghaul: I came from nothing, and rose to rule the Cabal. Every victory earned through battle... and blood. Calus never faced such adversity... and he knew it. He saw in me resilience he could never match. Perhaps that is why he treated Caiatl as he did. To forge her into everything he wished his legacy to be. Now it is Caiatl who rules the empire. And her legacy will outlive us all.
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Memory of Ghaul: This abomination of a ship was meant to be a prison. Instead, Calus plated it in gold and called it a "pleasure barge". His exile was no less depraved than his reign. He gorged himself upon his throne, be it on Torobatl or the Leviathan. You see where that has led him. He and his Loyalists now rot from the inside out, just as his empire once did. Exile was a mercy. When you next face him, Guardian, I trust you will be merciless.
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Memory of Ghaul: Gladiator. Primus. Traitor. Dominus. All titles I have worn. Never did I count "hero" among them. But that was how Caiatl saw me. Someone to admire and emulate. A guiding light in a starless sky. I sought a different Light... one that incinerated me. If I had stayed behind, perhaps Caiatl and I could have saved Torobatl together. Perhaps... I could have even called myself a hero.
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Memory of Ghaul: When I first met you in battle, Guardian, I thought you soft and weak. Not because you feared death... but because you did not. To throw one's life away, safe in the knowledge that it will return... that is the antithesis of sacrifice. A mockery of the warrior's creed. I see now that it is not your death you fear, but the death of those you defend. And that fear gives you power. A power I failed to recognize until it bested me. May Calus make the same mistake!
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Memory of Ghaul: We Cabal have destroyed worlds before... but only rarely. There is no honor in such atrocity. Even when I aimed the Almighty at your sun, I intended it as only a last resort. A decision I did not make lightly. Now Torobatl has been laid to waste, and the Cabal seek refuge on the world I sought to claim. The irony wounds me. But... Caiatl has shown me that no matter where we make our home, the Cabal will never lose sight of who we are. We eat the mountains. We drink the seas. Our empire lives on.
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Memory of Ghaul: I would have liked to face an Ahamkara in battle. To bathe my blade in a dragon's blood. Some would call that foolhardy. That the danger posed by those beasts lurks within such desires. You Guardians fell prey to as much before, did you not? You vanquished Riven only for your own wishes to be turned against you. The Cabal need not fear that outcome, for we do not make wishes. We forge our own fates.
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Memory of Ghaul: Some among the Cabal have made extensive study of Hive warfare. Caiatl's first advisor, Umun'arath, was chief among them. At first, she sought merely to understand our enemy. That desire festered into obsession. She came to worship their war god. Know this, Guardian. The Cabal revere warriors, not war itself. We do not slaughter, we conquer. War without purpose is wasteful. War without honour... is butchery. That is what sets up apart from the Hive. A lesson Umun'arath never learned.
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Memory of Ghaul: For years, I conspired with Calus's enemies to end his rule. I cared nothing for political rivalries. But I knew Calus would lead the empire to ruin. So when the Praetorate first entreated me to join their cause, I agreed, and swallowed my distaste for deceit. They did not expect me to befriend the emperor. Nor did I. On the night of the coup, I could not meet his eyes. But neither could I forsake my duty. Friendship would not blind me to Calus's weakness. And I would not allow it to become my own.
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Memory of Uldren: You know, my friend Jolyon and I used to run circles around the Cabal. It was so easy to slip past them unnoticed. We watched them build up their forces on Phobos and Mars. They never marched on the Reef, so we stayed out of their way. In hindsight, I wonder whether that was the right choice. If we had intervened, would Calus have ever come to the Sol system? Would Ghaul? Guess we'll never know. The shot not taken, right?
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Memory of Uldren: Do the people of the Last City ever cheer you when you come home? Do they celebrate your triumphs? I remember what that was like. Returning to a prince's welcome, adored and beloved across the Reef. Mara once asked me if I set out on such adventures for the benefit of our people, or simply so I could bask in their praise. Let me tell you a secret: there's nothing that says it can't be both.
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Memory of Uldren: I always thought my sister had all the answers. That she just... knew everything. But that doesn't give her enough credit. When Mara asks a question, she wills the answer she wants into being. That's her real gift. Because knowing the truth... and being powerless to change it? That, my friend, is a curse.
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Memory of Uldren: Light and Dark. Good and evil. Never that simple, is it? That's something the Reef's always known. Caught between two cosmic forces, walking in the shadows between them. Some might say that makes us untrustworthy. Some might forget everything we lost when we stood in Oryx's path. You don't need the Light to be a hero, and you're not a hero just because you wield the Light. Remember that.
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Memory of Uldren: Grief and loss are powerful forces. They wear you down, like rain on stone. Give them enough time, and they'll erode mountains. After the Awoken fleet was decimated at Saturn, I held onto hope that Mara had survived. But eventually, grief warped that hope into hatred. For everyone and everything. There are not excuses for what I did in those years. I know that. Just keep in mind that we all have reasons for the decisions we make. Even you.
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Memory of Uldren: Everything I did... I did for her. That's true. Everything my sister did... she did for you. For humanity. You'd have been jealous too. But now we have a fresh start... the Crow and I. We can be the man we were always meant to be: the adventurer, the rogue, the great hero. And this time... Mara won't look away.
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Memory of Uldren: Crow and Glint seem close. Is it like that with all Guardians and their Ghosts? I've heard of some who didn't always see eye to eye. At times, with lethal results. Even the greatest gifts can be burdens, if given to the unwilling. Maybe some would rather stay dead.
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Memory of Uldren: How is Petra these days? She and Crow didn't exactly part on good terms when they last met. That couldn't have been easy on her. She's lost a lot of people over the course of her life. Some by her own hand. I know Crow regrets the things he said to her. He now sees how desperately she was trying to protect him. Apologies have never been my strong suit. I can only hope Crow proves better at them than I was.
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Memory of Uldren: It's strange, watching myself from afar. Seeing who I might have been, if given a second chance. Sometimes... I'll catch myself wanting to reach out to Crow. So I can share with him a better way of doing things. The boon of experience. And then I'll wonder... would I have listened if anyone gave me that kind of advice? Would he? Honestly? I don't know if I'd want him to.
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Memory of Uldren: Crow's fond of the Fallen, isn't he? So was I. I admired their tenacity. Back them into a corner, and they'll die fighting. Not even their Whirlwind could bring an end to their kind. But Crow... he sees in them a kindred spirit. A people who lost all that they were, and now have to build something new from the ashes. What that ends up being is entirely up to them. Just like it is for us.