All storms are predicated on wings of warning. No great typhoon arrives without the stoic winds shifting to an insistent howl. No hurricane can brew without a lashing whip of lightning to announce itself, nor can a twister spin its way into existence without causing the hair to prick our scalps. Most signs are subtle: the creak of ancient floorboards in the dead of night or an out-of-place frigid gale on an otherwise placid midday. Others are more prominent, like the crackling of thunder against a greyed sky or the roaring of ocean waves as a hurricanes rushes into life on the horizon.

On one such day many years after you and I are gone, a storm looms just out of sight. But the omen of this storm is not a rumble of distant thunder nor the gentle squeaking of a spinning weathervane - it is a voice.

---

Two figures stood in the limited light of the library, their faces shadowed and bodies silhouetted against the wavering blue light suspended in midair. Rows of books and maps lined every inch of the extensive room, small panels and paintings positioned every few feet or so. The spacing was overtly precise, each decoration or utility placed the same distance from the bookshelves on either side of it. This was, of course, to be expected in a place created solely for the benefit of the Warlocks. They prided themselves on their knowledge and precision, and this architectural feat was evidently no exception.

The first figure huffed, hunched over a large glass table littered with discarded books and bookmarked reports, scattered alongside pinned maps and various notes. A small, robotic creature hovered to her side, illuminating her workspace with his trademark blue light. The figure placed a hand to her head, exasperated, and pulled another book off of the already half-barren shelf.

"Have you found anything?" The second figure asked, stepping forward as a green light entered the area.

The first figure turned, startled, her face now visible in the combined illumination. Her skin was sleek and dark, head covered by a buzzcut and brown eyes lined with golden paint. "I had forgotten you were in here," She said, composing herself after the jarring surprise.

The second figure nodded knowingly, three eyes dimly glowing behind a series of bandages. "It is common for great scholars to become lost in their work," She said, voice heavy. "And often lose touch with the barrier between theory and truth."
The first figure frowned ever so slightly, though she was used to this sort of speech. "I am merely attempting to locate the new location of the Taken."

"They have scattered like insects since their master has fallen," The second figure said, tightening her gloved grip on the orb-like object in her hands. She allowed it to hover a moment as she righted her shoulderplates, which were an armor of sorts that appeared to be two tusk-like formations arcing from her shoulder. She wore a hood to further shield her appearance, a black substance dancing down her pale cheeks like ebony ink through water.

"I am aware," Said the first figure, turning to the robot that had been flying around her shoulders the moment the lights went out. "Though their appearances are in groups, and thus they must be convening somewhere. It is only logical that-"

"You will not find them," The second figure said definitely. "They are seeking to revive their master, who is banished from this realm. If Oryx dies, the taken die as well. They live on- ask does he. Your efforts have little meaning, Ikora."
The first figure, Ikora, pursed her lips. "One does not know if they first do not try, Eris." She said. "I will continue my research until I have produced something that will be of aid."

"An exhausted vanguard will be of little aid. Rest is crucial if you wish to be of any use to the Warlocks." Eris replied, expression rigid despite subtle attempts at friendliness hidden beneath the layers of her words.

"And an annoyed one can hurt you," Ikora warned, sarcasm oozing from her tone. "But... You might be right. We've reached a dead end."

"Not quite."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I make use of my time; I would not be down here if I did not have reason to."

Ikora eyes her, interest flaring in her expression. "And what exactly would that reason be?"

Eris took a few steps forward, Ikora's small machine shrinking back as if in caution. "The voices that were once condemned to silence as Oryx fell are beginning to whisper again, drawing strength as I fear he may be."

"Oryx has been dead for several months," Ikora said slowly, eyebrow raised.

"Not dead," Eris clarified. "Banished. Removed from our plane of existence. But as we both know, there are others that lay beyond our feeble grasp. Surely the Vex have allowed for such thoughts to cross your mind."

"Y-yes, of course. They aren't from this time."

"Then you know that this silence that we find ourselves in may not last as long as our hopes," Eris said grimly. "Just as soon as we have settled into peace, the powers of darkness choose to return."

"When we are at our weakest," Ikora mused, turning to look out across the city below, the Traveller hovering like a broken deity above the shattered remnants of the past. "The Traveller could be leeched of its light again."
"We have no time for such concerns. The Traveller may have protected us once, but we must prepare for the day that it moves on. We must learn to exist with its absence." Eris insisted.

Ikora waved a hand dismissively, though her face was lined with worry as she avoided Eris's gaze. "That day will never come. We protect the Traveller, and it protects us. We are safe."

Eris chuckled. "Safety is never a guarantee. It is something we fight for the chance of possessing. Though it is true that continuing our alignment with the Traveller is beneficial to us both."

"Hm." Ikora continued to stare at the traveller, its looming form a beacon of hope solidifying her statements.

"Light is a fragile force," Eris muttered, matching Ikora's gaze. "It exists as a balance of darkness, as darkness exists as a balance of light. If the balance is tipped, then we can know one thing for certain: If we allow this to continue, then everything we have fought for could be lost."