The familiar hum of the Tower's transmat resonated as Weiss stepped off the platform, and stretched her arms over her shoulders as Spark transmatted her helmet away. The cold Cosmodrome wind had been replaced by warm courtyard air, filled with the chatter of Guardians and the distant call of vendors. Her armor bore a few new scuffs, but she carried herself with a quiet sense of accomplishment.
Spark hovered close, gleaming proudly.
"Ah, home sweet Tower! And look—Weiss, you remain intact. Let's hope this becomes a habit!"
She sighed, but her tone softened. "I told you I'd handle it."
"And handle it you did! Quite spectacularly. In fact, I believe you may be statistically approaching 'competent.'"
"We'll aim for 'impressive' next," she muttered dryly.
They made their way through the courtyard toward the Gunsmith's station. Banshee-44 was sorting through a crate of parts, humming faintly in an off-key metallic way. His optic flickered toward Weiss as she approached.
"Back already," Banshee said. "And alive. That's good."
Weiss nodded, crossing her arms. "I've completed several bounties. How much glimmer does that get me in terms of weapon choices?"
Banshee pulled up the holographic interface. "Four hundred and twenty-eight. Enough for an entry-grade Guardian sidearm or… this."
He turned and pulled a sleek, brushed metal hand cannon from the rack. Its frame was elegant, balanced, with a slight ivory accent along the barrel.
"This one feels right for you," Banshee said. "Low recoil, fast draw and high precision. Hunters like that sort of thing."
Weiss reached out and wrapped her hands around the grip. The weapon was heavier than she expected—but in a reassuring way.
She lifted it, sighting an imaginary target. The sights were good and the weight was manageable.
"…Yes," Weiss murmured. "This one."
Spark spun with excitement. "Oh, magnificent choice! Statistically speaking, you are now 32% more stylish. And also more lethal, but truly, the style is the triumph here."
Banshee gave a slow Exo nod. "Good eye, I wish you success on your journey and good luck."
Weiss paid her glimmer, holstered the hand cannon across her hip, and stepped away from the booth. But as she stood in the middle of the courtyard, she didn't turn toward her room, the Hangar, or even the market stalls.
Instead, her gaze shifted toward the Hall of the Hunters.
Spark noticed immediately. "Weiss… your trajectory suggests a deliberate destination. Curious! Where are we going?"
She inhaled. "To Cayde," she said simply.
Spark tilted in confusion. "Oh! Are we seeking more explosives? Or witty mentorship? Or a new variety of questionable life decisions?"
"No. I need…" She paused, searching for the right phrasing. "…a favor. Something I've been thinking about for a while."
Spark didn't press—too unusual for him. Instead, he floated quietly beside her as she entered the vaulted hall lit by orange lamps and lined with Hunter cloaks. Cayde-6 stood at his usual post, leaning casually over a map table, tapping a metal finger against it with rhythmic annoyance.
When he saw Weiss approach, his optics brightened.
"Well, look at you," Cayde said, straightening. "Armor's polished, new gun on your hip… and you didn't crash another ship on the way in. I'm impressed."
Weiss offered the faintest smirk. "Trying to set a good example."
"Careful. That's dangerous territory for Hunters."
Spark softly chimed, "She has come for a favor, Cayde-6! A very mysterious and ominous favor. I am quite intrigued."
Cayde leaned in. "Something on your mind, kid?"
Weiss hesitated for a heartbeat, then: "Yes. There is something I need. And… I think you're the only one who can help."
Her voice was steady, but there was weight behind it—something she hadn't spoken aloud yet, even to Spark.
Cayde crossed his arms, optics narrowing with curiosity.
"Well," he said with a click of metal joints. "Let's hear it."
——————
Cayde had been leaning back in his chair, one metal boot propped on a crate, idly flipping a poker chip across his fingers when Weiss approached. The moment he saw her expression—calm, pulled tight, that strange mixture of determination and dread—his hand stilled. The chip clicked once against his knuckle and froze.
"Weiss?" he said, head tilting. "You look like you're about to ask for a loan, a limb, or a crime. Please tell me it's a crime; those are always the most fun."
Weiss stood straight, hands folded behind her back in a stiff, almost military set to her posture.
Spark floated at her shoulder, humming a faint note of concern.
Weiss inhaled slowly. "Cayde… I want you to grant me my first death."
Silence.
Cayde's optics didn't move, but somehow he still managed to make it feel like he was seeing through her.
"… Huh," he muttered. "Well. That's… not usually the kind of favor people ask between buying a gun and grabbing ramen."
Weiss held firm. "I need to understand it, what it feels like. What dying means for us. Everyone talks around it like it's normal, but it isn't. Not to me. I want to know what happens—and how I'll come back."
Spark bobbed uneasily. "While I do appreciate curiosity, Weiss, I must officially state for the record that voluntary termination is statistically unwise and emotionally distressing! You may also dirty your armor!"
Cayde let out a breath that was half laugh, half sigh. "Spark, buddy, nobody cares about the armor."
"I care!" Spark whined.
Weiss lifted her chin. "Cayde… please."
He finally set his feet on the floor, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "Look, kid—death hurts, every time. It's not some peaceful fade-to-black. It's loud, and bright and sharp. And coming back isn't exactly a nap either. You'll remember pieces you didn't want to. You'll lose pieces you hoped to keep. So before I say yes… why do you really want this?"
Weiss hesitated then spoke, quietly, "Because I'm tired of feeling like I'm walking in a dream. I fight, I bleed, I almost die, and I'm constantly being told I'll 'get used to it.' I don't want to get used to anything blind. If I'm going to be a guardian, I need to face every part of what that means. Even the parts that frighten me."
Cayde stared at her for several long moments.
"… You remind me of someone," he whispered, not quite meaning to say it aloud.
Then he stood.
"Well. All right. I figure if you're going to do it better with someone who knows what they're doing than, you know, flinging yourself off the Tower like half the Hunters did last week trying to 'test their limits.' Idiots."
Spark flashed a brilliant blue in outrage. "Testing limits is my job! Not gravity!"
Weiss nodded once, hands tightening at her sides. "Thank you."
Cayde pointed a finger at her. "Uh-uh. Ground rules. One: You don't tell Zavala. Two: You don't tell Ikora. Three: You definitely don't tell Shaxx, because he'll think it's training and start shouting. And four—after that, you get ramen with me. No excuses."
"… Deal."
Cayde gestured toward one of the back practice rooms. "All right, rookie. Let's make your first death official. Spark, are you ready?"
"No," Spark said instantly. "But I will document it meticulously for future optimization! Oh, what joy!"
Cayde gave Weiss a wry nod. "Last chance to back out."
Weiss exhaled, steady and resolved. "I'm ready."
————————
The room Cayde led her into was small, quiet, and sealed off from the usual bustle of the Tower—one of the old training chambers buried deep behind the Hunter hangars. The lighting was low, warm, almost soft, as if the space itself understood what was about to happen.
Weiss stood in the center of the room, boots squared, shoulders rolled back, breathing steady. Cayde approached her with none of his usual swagger now; every step was measured, footsteps ringing hollow on the metal floor.
Spark hovered close, humming in rapid, nervous pulses. "I must reiterate Weiss, that I am not emotionally prepared for this. My processors are simulating stress reactions I did not know I was capable of!"
"It's all right, Spark," Weiss murmured. "Stay with me."
"Rest assured, I will remain at your side through this highly ill-advised endeavor."
Cayde picked up a long, slender device from a wall rack—a calibrated Arc induction pistol used for controlled Guardian respawn drills. It looked more like a surgical tool than a weapon. "This won't be messy," he said quietly. "Just… intense, quick. Like shutting your eyes and getting hit by a thunderstorm."
Weiss swallowed. "I understand."
"You're brave, kid," Cayde said. "Braver than most."
She shook her head. "Not brave. Just… done being afraid of what I don't know."
Cayde's hand hesitated for a single second.
"All right," he said softly. "Here we go."
He aimed the induction pistol at the center of her chest.
The first thing Weiss felt was the faint crackle of energy gathering in the surrounding air.
The second was the fear—sharp, real, instinctive—even if her face didn't show it.
Spark trembled, light flickering like a candle in the wind. "Oh dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Weiss, this is going to—"
The shot fired.
A bolt of concentrated Arc energy lanced into her sternum, and her body seized. Pain blossomed—not a sharp spike, but an overwhelming force, drowning out everything, every sense, every breath. There was a flash of white so bright it was colorless—a hollow ringing like the echo of a universe collapsing.
Then nothing…no falling, no feeling, no thought.
Just a weightless, silent void. For a moment—maybe an eternity—she floated in the absence of herself.
And then—a pinpoint of light. Steady, warm and familiar, calling her back.
"Weiss… Weiss, come back to me…"
Spark's voice, trembling, frantic, and unbearably relieved.
White energy spiraled around her, knitting bone, crafting muscle, forming her shape anew until she stood upright again, breath tearing into her lungs as if she'd never used them before.
She gasped, collapsing to a knee.
Cayde caught her shoulder instantly. "Easy, easy. Breathe, take your time."
Weiss braced a hand on the floor, palm shaking. Her vision swam—shards of light, memories she didn't recognize, impressions that weren't hers, fragments of a life still missing.
Spark bumped against her cheek, his light fluttering like a heartbeat.
"Oh, thank the Traveler! Do you feel intact? Are your limbs functioning? Toes? Fingers? Emotional stability at 40% or higher?"
Weiss forced a laugh—a small one. "I'm… here. I'm okay."
She rose slowly, Cayde steadying her until she waved him off.
"How was it?" he asked gently.
Weiss stared at her hands. "It was… terrifying. And empty. And… peaceful, somehow. But coming back…" She exhaled shakily. "It felt like opening my eyes for the first time."
Cayde put a hand on her shoulder. "That's a burden and a blessing. We die so humanity doesn't have to. But we carry that weight every time."
Weiss nodded, absorbing it all—not with fear, but with clarity.
"I understand now," she said. "What are we?" What am I?"
Spark spun proudly beside her. "And I understand that I never want to watch you disintegrate again! Once was statistically sufficient!"
Cayde barked a laugh, tension finally breaking. He squeezed her shoulder with the easy familiarity of a mentor. "C'mon. You just crossed a threshold. That earns you something special."
Weiss blinked. "Special?"
"Yeah," Cayde said, heading toward the exit. "Special. I'm buying you ramen."
Weiss' stomach chose that exact moment to rumble like an explosion, followed by silence…Weiss crouched on the floor hugging her knees as her face burned in embarrassment.
"I don't think I've eaten since I was first brought back…" Weiss mumbled quietly.
Cayde paused for a moment in shock before laughing loudly. "Woah was that you or an ogre!? Let's get some noodles in you before Spark gives himself an emotional reboot."
"I resent that implication!" Spark chirped. "Although… I do feel slightly faint…"
Weiss, getting back up and pushing her feelings of mortification to the back of her mind, followed after Cayde and Spark. Feeling has finally realized what she is, a defender of humanity.
————————————
The ramen shop sat tucked beneath one of the Tower's upper walkways, its neon sign flickering between soft amber and warm red. Steam curled from the pots behind the counter, carrying the scents of broth, ginger, and sizzling oil.
Cayde slid into a seat at the counter, gesturing for Weiss to take the one beside him.
"Welcome to the best joint in the system," he said, folding his elbows over the counter like he'd done it a thousand times—which, Weiss supposed, he probably had.
Spark hovered just above Weiss's shoulder, rotating slowly as though examining the bowls lined up across the counter. "Ah, consumable nutrition distribution! Fascinating, though unnecessary for Guardians for the most part… but culturally significant! And very aromatic."
Weiss sat, fingers folding together in her lap as she looked over the menu glowing in the holo-display.
Cayde knocked his knuckles lightly on the countertop. "Two of the usual," he told the cook.
Weiss blinked. "You didn't even look at the menu."
"Oh, I don't need to," Cayde said, leaning back in his chair. "Got a long-standing relationship with this place. We respect each other. I pay them, they don't poison me. It's nice."
Weiss let out a small breath—something between a sigh and a laugh. The tension in her shoulders eased just a little.
But when the steaming bowls were finally set before them, her curiosity sparked.
She looked at Cayde, at the way the steam curled around the smooth plating of his jaw. "Cayde… can I ask something?"
He twirled chopsticks between his fingers. "Sure. If it's about romance, finances, or Zavala, I reserve the right to plead the Fifth."
"It's not any of those."
"Great, fire away."
Weiss tilted her head, studying the Exo across from her. His glowing orange eyes, the faint mechanical whirr beneath his voice, the way he carried himself with a mixture of casual swagger and something heavier beneath.
"What are Exos, exactly?" she asked quietly. "And… how can you eat? You're machines. Or at least, partly."
Cayde froze mid–chopstick spin.
Then he clacked them together once. "Ah, the big question."
Spark whirred, suddenly sounding like a delighted docent in a museum. "Ooh! Exo physiology! An excellent topic, if riddled with ethically questionable historical context!"
Cayde pointed at Spark. "We don't need the questionable part right now."
"Oh, but it is the entire thing—"
"Spark." Weiss's voice was sharp but gentle.
Spark dimmed slightly. "…Acknowledged."
Cayde chuckled under his breath. "Your Ghost's got personality. I respect that."
Weiss folded her hands. "So?"
Cayde rested his elbows on the counter, leaning closer. Not conspiratorial—just sincere.
"Exos were made a long time ago. Built, not born. Human minds were transferred into machine bodies to survive… well, a lot of bad stuff. So under all this metal—" He tapped his chestplate lightly. "—there's still a person. Memories, emotions, quirks. Even some of the old instincts. Eating's one of those."
Weiss blinked. "You taste it?"
"Sort of. Not the same way flesh-and-blood folks do. The flavors are… impressions, signals and echoes. The Tower's tech translates it into something a mind understands. Comfort warmth and spice, good stuff." He snapped his fingers. "Bad ramen, though? Tastes like sadness."
Weiss laughed at the pout on his face. Cayde grinned at the sound.
She looked back at her bowl and took her first bite.
Warmth spread through her chest, comforting in a way revival and Light never could be. It soothed the cold fear left behind by death, grounding her in something simple and human.
Cayde watched her with an approving nod. "Not bad, right?"
"It's… nice," Weiss murmured. "Strange but nice."
Spark bobbed proudly. "Ah yes—postmortem nourishment! A classic recovery method. Biologically unnecessary, psychologically profound!"
Cayde slurped his noodles loudly on purpose. "Let the girl eat, Spark."
Weiss wiped her mouth, then looked at Cayde. "So Exos were once human?"
"Yep," Cayde said lightly. "Still are, just with a bit more… uh, chassis."
Weiss's eyes softened. "I didn't realize."
He shrugged. "Most don't but hey—you asked. Good instinct, Guardians need curiosity. Keeps you alive."
She set her chopsticks down, expression growing more thoughtful. "Cayde… thank you, for earlier. Giving me my first death and comforting me after, also the ramen. All of it."
He waved a hand. "Don't get mushy on me. I'm allergic."
"Exos can't be allergic."
"Yes we can. I refuse to elaborate."
Weiss smiled, small but steady.
She felt… lighter.
More anchored.
Cayde drummed his fingers on the counter. "Finish your bowl. I've got something else to show you afterward. Something every Hunter—and newly risen Guardian—needs to see."
Weiss's eyebrow lifted. "Another lesson?"
"Oh yeah," Cayde said, leaning back with a grin. "Lesson two."
Spark chimed, gleeful and ominous.
"This is going to be terrible!"