Levi waited at the threshold, shoulder set against the frame. The grin on his lips was dialled down now, but not gone.
"So," Levi said, eyes flicking towards him, "we doing this again?"
Void didn't answer immediately, he slowly trudged towards the wall and peered ahead as his eyes slowly settled on a mountain top in the distance. The wind coming down off the gantries carried a dry metallic taste. Far beyond the ribs of Skywatch, the Devil's Lair sat in the mountain's shadow, nothing but a darker cut of rock to anyone who didn't know where to look.
"There'll be a new war," Void said finally. "But this time.....this time we will win."
Levi's nod was small, as if he'd already resigned himself to it. "Vanguard will start the wheel. I heard enough in there to know the City's not sleeping."
He lifted his chin, caught the angle of Void's stare as it strayed to the ridgeline where the Lair hid. "But your head's not on the Moon anymore."
Void's mouth twitched. "Too much to do," he said quietly. "Too many places to be at once."
"You're not alone," Levi said, voice easy but not light. "You know that, right? Any of it, you share it. Don't go burning out on us."
A breath that wasn't quite a laugh left Void. "I'll remember," he said. He meant it, even if he couldn't share the burdens, at least he'd keep that in mind.
Levi pushed himself off the frame, turning towards the base. "Good luck out there," he said, and this time the grin hit full. "Try not to get yourself another trial. Not good for reputation."
"Not on my list for at least a year." Void chuckled as he waved, and Levi disappeared into the base.
Void walked forward, crossing the pad with his hood down, the breeze catching the edge of his cloak, as he took another step and vanished into light.
The jumpship answered with a thrum. It lifted and soared into the sky, setting off a column of dust, and arrowed for the high air. A second later, it had already blasted off.
—
The Vanguard room was a controlled chaos.
Walls buzzed with holo-feeds and maps. Crates came in, orders went out, and Guardians reported and left. Through the hustle and bustle was Zavala, his steady voice low, level, unbothered by how many people he had to be speaking to at once.
Ikorra stood with a comms lattice arcing above her fingertips, sigils and cyphers slotting into place and dissolving again as fast as she could think or speak them. She flicked open another channel and the City's encrypted sigil unfurled, a white geometry snapping to clarity.
A dozen robed figures appeared in arranged panes, all the high-ranking members within the several Warlock orders, gathered on their own ends of long tables, faces lit by their own screens.
"Let's begin," Ikorra uttered, her voice filtered through the comms as everyone gave a slight nod.
"We have confirmation regarding the Moon," she said. "Right now, there's a dark veil around Hellmouth. It is a ward. A ward that seeks to push us out, but also to keep something asleep. It is not simply a barricade against us. Concurrently, we have recovered records from within the Hive's own archives. The information we have is still incomplete. "
"Has the Vanguard sanctioned another survey of the moon?" another Warlock cut in. "What is the source of this information?"
Ikorra didn't look away. "That is none of your concern."
A third voice, softer and colder: "Then the source is suspect."
"Everything is suspect," Ikorra said, and the comm lattice dimmed around her as she deliberately lowered her tone. "What matters is that the weight of it rings true. We paid for this knowledge with risks that don't deserve to be wasted. Whatever you get are the fragments that can be shared. Now more than ever, we cannot risk scrutinising our only source of knowledge."
Ikorra frowned, a dark line etched on her face, "Don't waste this opportunity."
Silence stretched. In one of the panes, whispers passed between them.
"We'll get it done as fast as possible," the first Warlock said at last.
"Record everything you scrutinise," Ikorra said. "Then get to work."
She sent the packet. Glyphs unfurled through the network. The panes filled with movement. Hands reached for books. Ghosts lifted. The sound of real work bled through the signal.
She cut the connection. The lattice fell into sparks.
Across the room, Zavala sorted a stack of physical documents, sifting through old papers to record the arsenal available to them. Next to him, Cayde jittered his leg, a coin twirling through his fingers as he scrolled through various scouting mission reports from across the Cosmodrome.
"When," Ikorra asked, joining them, "do we stop talking and start moving?"
"When the City is ready," Zavala said without looking up. "And when it is, we contact him. He knows where to cut first. For now, we must prepare. Once we take that step, we won't have the luxury of taking it back."
Cayde echoed with half a sigh. "You know, this'd be far easier if we didn't have all this paperwork. Like, what about all the training?"
"Shaxx is handling the Crucible, and now it's more active than ever. He's even introducing new exercises. Try as you might, you'll still have to do all that work." Ikorra sighed.
"Worth a shot." Cayde shrugged and said, flicking the coin, catching it without looking.
Ikorra opened a new channel, and the seal of the Praxic Order answered promptly. Hard faces. Harder eyes. Aunor spoke with a tense tone.
"Ikorra," came the voice on the other side, clipped. "We received these plans, but what is all this? Another assault on the moon?"
Ikorra inclined her head. "As written, the City will soon be doing another assault."
"Isn't this madness? Last time we barely made it out." Aunor replied, a memory flashing in her mind.
"We did." Ikorra nodded, "This time, we'll be prepared. The decision has been made. Follow your instructions."
Aunor gave a heavy nod as she swallowed hard. Her eyes filled with a weary gaze as he slowly cut the call.
Ikorra let the breath out she'd been holding for three days. She looked left. Zavala was already on another line; the City never ran out of things to push uphill. Cayde's coin was still moving, but his eyes were not on the spin anymore; they were on a map of the Cosmodrome, and all they had managed to salvage after taking over from the Devils.
"Scout records," he said without being asked. "I got some arc striders to run the course. They'll cross over the Devils' old lanes. Observe what's out there. Less room for surprise later."
Cayde pinched the coin from the air, pocketed it, and jabbed a finger toward the board showing the Moon. "With that said, we do need to look at where we'll land. Can't make the same mistake as last time. Gotta look at escape routes beforehand."
Ikorra wrinkled her nose as she considered his words, "I'll do it," she said.
Zavala turned as he finished sorting through his paperwork.
"Let's finish fast, set a clock," he said. "Seventy-two hours. In that time: outposts locked, relays tested end-to-end, strike teams sorted, evacuation corridors cleared in case this goes badly fast. At hour seventy-two, we call him."
Ikorra nodded. "And then we start taking away the Prince's toys."
"Shrines, swords, and the armies", Cayde said, counting off. "Sounds like a party."
"Sounds like a war," Zavala corrected. Then, softer, "sounds like an opportunity."
Somewhere in the Tower, Shaxx was already shouting himself hoarse in a way that sounded like laughter. Somewhere else, the Cryptarchs were sulking about being asked to translate older Hive records in the City to match the new info they had obtained.
Above it all, the Traveller loomed, silent and bright, and the City breathed as one big, wary thing.
Ikorra stepped back into her lattice, raised another sigil, and called a different branch.
"Hidden," she said when the masks appeared. "The upcoming assault on the moon will require all hands on deck. If there's an opportunity to infiltrate Hive structure, you'll be required to do it."
"Understood, what if this opportunity comes at a cost?" came a voice like velvet over steel.
"If the cost is too high, then stop," Ikorra said. "If it's possible, then go ahead."
The masks nodded, one after another, and went dark.
She let the lights of the board wash over her. She let herself imagine, for a heartbeat, the simplicity of the plan. Push here, the enemy falls there.
But it was never simple. It had never been. Ikorra mulled over the battle that loomed ahead. She looked at Zavala, her eyes grim. "We'll be ready," she said.
He replied with a nod that didn't pretend this would be easy.
"Relax, I know we will." Cayde slapped the table and pushed off with a yawn, and the room slowly settled back into silence.
=
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