Solas Prime loomed before them—once the gleaming crown jewel of Precursor engineering, now a ghost world wrapped in decaying orbitals and fractured light.
As Russ and Xel descended onto the surface aboard the Starhowl, the planet greeted them not with silence, but with static whispers—bursts of coded signals interlaced with something more primal.
"Is that… a language?" Xel asked, adjusting her comms.
Russ stared ahead. "No. It's a memory."
They landed on an obsidian platform choked in vines of rusted cabling. Towering spires pierced the sky like broken needles, each one humming with buried tension.
The air was heavy. Even the wind felt artificial.
Kairos twitched on Russ's arm, forming into a blade at will—eager, tense.
"Russ," Xel said quietly, eyes on her scanner. "There's movement. Four signatures. Large. Coming fast."
Too fast for normal fauna.
Before Russ could reply, the ground shattered beneath them.
Out emerged towering figures clad in living alloy—the Reforged Guardians. Eyes like dying suns. Voices like crushed glass.
"HEIR OF THE VOID," one growled. "YOU WALK THE PATH OF OBLIVION. YOU WILL NOT PASS."
Russ instinctively raised Kairos. "I'm not here to continue the war. I'm here to end it."
"THERE IS NO END. ONLY CYCLE."
The first Guardian lunged, a beam-spear crashing where Russ had stood seconds before. He rolled, swung Kairos upward—and to his surprise, the blade sang.
It didn't just cut. It unwound matter.
The Guardian staggered back, its arm corroding mid-motion.
"Xel, keep the others busy!" Russ shouted.
"Oh, sure! I'll just take on three murder tanks alone!" she snapped, already ducking under a hail of plasma. "So fun!"
Russ clashed with the lead Guardian again, sparks flying as metal met Voidsteel. The creature struck with the weight of a black hole, but Russ moved like smoke—guided not by skill, but instinct.
The Void didn't make him stronger. It made him inevitable.
With a final twist, Russ embedded Kairos deep into the Guardian's chest. The creature convulsed, screaming not in pain—but in relief.
As it fell, it whispered: "Forgive… us. We failed… before. You mustn't…"
Then silence.
Russ turned just in time to see Xel toss a mini-grav core into the final Guardian's chest. It exploded in a controlled pulse, flattening the rest into a heap of slag.
Xel gasped for breath. "I hate this planet."
"Same."
They stood in the aftermath, surrounded by smoking ruins. The air buzzed again.
A massive door at the end of the spire rumbled open—unlocked by their victory.
"Ready?" Russ asked.
"Nope." Xel cocked her weapon. "Let's go."
---
Inside, the chamber was unlike anything they'd seen.
A black sphere levitated at the center, suspended by energy streams. Around it floated millions of holographic threads—each one a timeline, each one… broken.
Then a voice spoke—not Guardian, not synthetic, but old. Human.
> "So… the Heir awakens. And brings my blade back."
From the shadows stepped a man—cloaked in grey, with eyes that shimmered like stars seen from the bottom of a grave.
Kairos shuddered.
Russ froze. "Who are you?"
The man smiled.
> "I'm the one who wore the mantle before you. I'm the reason this cycle is broken."
"I am the First Archon."