Snow whips across the open expanse as Weiss and Spark emerge from the gut of the Cosmodrome wall and step into the Divide—a massive, open yard framed by broken shipping cranes, collapsed walkways, and towering stacks of ancient cargo containers. Echoing wind carries faint, metallic growls. The sky overhead is gray and heavy.
Spark lowers his voice to a cautious whisper—well, his version of a whisper, which is still annoyingly loud. "Welcome to the Divide! A charming outdoor courtyard now primarily inhabited by scavengers, raiders, and individuals who deeply dislike you."
Weiss grips her Auto Rifle as she looks around at the dilapidated buildings. "So… same as the rest of this place."
"Exactly! Consistency builds character."
Ahead, the Fallen scuttle between crates, unaware of the new Guardian stepping into their territory. A pair of Vandals stand watch on a collapsed catwalk above, and groups of Dregs sift through crates below.
Weiss crouches behind a rusted barrier. "Spark… we're not sneaking past that, are we?"
He hums. "Given your current track record? Absolutely not. But think of it this way—combat is simply a very loud form of navigation!"
Weiss steadies her breathing, checking her rifles magazine before nodding her head. She leaps from cover and fires.
The shots punch through the first Vandal's shield, sending it tumbling from the catwalk in a shower of ether. The second Vandal screeches and fires wildly, bolts cracking the metal beside her.
Weiss dashes forward, blade in hand, vaulting over a crate. The captains blade hums alive, crackling with captured lightning as she slashes upward—cleaving the vandal in half.
Spark twirls beside her. "Excellent! You're beginning to look like you know what you're doing. Or at least you're improvising with great confidence."
She fires another charged bolt at a Dreg trying to flank her—bang!—dropping it instantly. "Why does this all feel natural?"
"That is the Light helping guide your actions! And possibly leftover muscle memory. Or both. Regardless, I am impressed."
More Fallen pour from the far side of the Divide. One hurls a shock grenade that detonates nearby, sending Weiss stumbling back.
"Careful!" Spark yelps. "Those will scramble the insides of your insides."
Weiss grits her teeth and switches to her rifle, thinning the wave. When a larger Vandal charges with twin blades, she answers with a sweeping sword strike, the blow splitting its armor with a crack of thunder.
Snow settles slowly as the last Fallen falls.
Weiss exhales shakily. "We actually made it."
"For now! But don't get too comfortable. We still need to reach the hangar on the far side of the Divide—and every Fallen between here and there is likely to already be upset with you."
Weiss reloads her rifle, adjusting the blade on her back and then lifting up her Fusion Rifle. "Let them be upset. I'm not stopping."
Spark bobs excitedly. "Marvelous spirit! Forward, and do try not to die. That will be a waste of time."
They make their way across the Divide, weaving through old shipping containers and broken machinery. Weiss speaks more now, small fragments of thought slipping out as she grows comfortable with the weapons and the strange little machine floating at her shoulder.
"Spark… this place. It's huge. And empty. I can't imagine people actually lived here."
"Oh, they lived, worked, argued, loved, mishandled safety equipment—everything humans are so very good at. Before the Collapse, this was a thriving launch facility."
Weiss touches the cold metal of a railing, imagining crowds and bustling workers. "And now it's just laying in ruin."
"And potential salvage! Don't forget salvage." Spark chirps helpfully.
She rolls her eyes. "You're impossible."
"That's what I strive for."
——————
The corridor narrows into a winding passage of old metal walkways and dim, flickering lights. Weiss breathes steadily, the cold air burning her lungs as she follows Spark deeper into the Cosmodrome's inner skeleton. Each step echoes through the abandoned structure like a heartbeat.
Spark floats backward as he speaks, his voice uncharacteristically focused.
"Weiss, before we go any further there is something important you need to learn. Something that may keep you alive."
Weiss slows. "More Fallen?"
"Oh yes—absolutely. But that's not what I meant."
He rotates, scanning her. "You've been using their stolen Arc Blade quite effectively. But that's merely steel humming with residual energy. You, however—" he does a dramatic little spin, "—are capable of generating something infinitely more impressive."
Weiss blinks. "… Me?" She says with a finger pointing at herself.
"Yes, you! The Light! Your Light!"
He floats closer until he's nearly bumping her visor.
"You are a hunter, Weiss. And hunters draw the Light into motion. Precision, speed and lethality, the Blade Dancer path is aligned strongly with you—very quick, very sharp, very… stabby."
"I don't know how to do any of that," she says hesitantly.
Spark emits a soft, reassuring hum.
"You will. And I can help. Now—hold your Captain Blade."
Weiss pulls the stolen Fallen weapon from her hip. Its blue glow flickers softly against her armor.
"Good. Now close your eyes."
She hesitates.
"Weiss, you won't die, worse thing that can happen is you shock yourself a bit. Humoring me is significantly less dangerous."
"… Fair point."
She closes her eyes.
Spark speaks seriously with a calm voice.
"Feel the hum of the blade. The Arc energy in the metal is not unlike the Light in your own body. Focus on that vibration… and then imagine it responding to you. Not as a weapon you wield… but as something alive."
Weiss breathes slowly. She feels the faint tingle of electricity running up her arm from the blade. It pulses—like a heartbeat.
"Good," Spark says. "Now call it, not with words but with intent."
She imagines the Light flowing up her arm—imagines it answering her. The tingling grows, then surges. The air around her crackles. Her fingers tremble.
And then—
FWASSSHHH
Blue-white energy erupts around her hand, forming a shimmering arc of Light—shaped like a blade but made of pure electricity. Her visor lights up from its glow.
Weiss gasps, eyes flying open.
"I—Spark! I did it! I—"
"Yes you did!" he cheers. "Your first Arc Light manifestation! Oh, this is marvelous! Please don't drop it, or electrocute yourself…or me."
The blade flickers as Weiss struggles to control it, the aura of lightning dancing in erratic bursts. It feels impossibly light—and impossibly dangerous.
"I can't believe this is mine…" she whispers.
"It is! A part of you—an extension of your will! But it requires practice. Much practice. And preferably somewhere not filled with explosive barrels."
Weiss laughs softly. "Okay. I'll try to use it carefully."
"Wonderful! Now let us proceed before more Fallen detect the energy spike. They love Arc signatures, very rude of them."
____________________
The Shipyard
Spark leads Weiss through the last stretch of corridor. The walls widen, the rusted floor giving way to a massive hangar bay filled with abandoned machinery.
At the far end, half-buried under rubble and snow, sits a sleek, battered Arcadia-class jumpship—nose pointed upward like a rusted spear.
"There!" Spark beams. "That is our ticket out of this miserable labyrinth of scrap metal. Assuming, of course, it still functions."
Weiss stares in awe. "That thing can fly?"
"Probably! Maybe! Hopefully! We shall determine that after not dying." Guilty Spark hums out as if describing the weather.
Movement flashes in the shadows—Fallen dropping from upper platforms, snarling.
Weiss tightens her grip on her Fusion Rifle. "We're fighting for it, aren't we?"
"Oh, absolutely," Spark chirps. "They love old tech. And they love preventing people from escaping. Very territorial and clingy."
A captain steps forward, the cloak shimmering, its blades sparking to life.
Weiss breathes out slowly, summoning her Light.
"I can do this."
"Yes you can," Spark says firmly. "Just don't miss."
Weiss steps into the center of the hangar as the Fallen close in—Fusion Rifle humming, Arc Blade glowing, and her newly awakened Light beginning to spark in the surrounding air.