Hi everybody, the New Mandalord is back.

I know, it has been quite a while since I added anything for . Um... yeah... awkward.

That being said, I am happy that people are like/favoriting my work, but I love reviews because they give me the fuel to do more chapters (Flamers Need Not Review). If you have any requests please PM me.

Anywho, I only own a few things such as three of the characters, events, and creatures. The other three are owned by my once time rival turned dearest friend Fuuko no Miko (Serious, check out her work. It is amazing!). Destiny is owned by Activision and Bungie.

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Somewhere in the Siberia Wasteland.

It was snowing out tonight, as it did every night.

Out within the steel-cold darkness a blizzard raged on. Frozen, dark, unforgiving. The snow bit like the remaining remnants of wolves that still roamed the tundras, removing all feeling from the Guardians. The Light always burned with a passion that strengthened within them, and it would warm them even in the darkest of matters. Not on this night. The smothering darkness had snuffed it out almost fully; a primordial frozen landscape that could snuff out their passion like a candle. Cold winds had blown has ravaged their buffed and harassed their camp multiple of times, but they stayed resolute.

The camp was lit by primitive lanterns and small fires spread throughout twinkling like distant dying stars. Their expert Hunter, Nel, had told them that even with the storm a large fire could bring unwanted attention, while smaller ones would keep the Pilgrims safe and be harder to see. Andrew, and a few of the Pilgrims, just wish they gave off more heat. The Warlock was no stranger to the cold or roughing in the wild, a career in the Vanguard would do that, he just wished the damn storm would let up for a second so his food would cook. He was stirring his supper in a small kettle over an even smaller fire. He was their best cook, but that really wasn't saying much—there were only so many ways to make trail rations interesting.

Most of their Fireteam were in their nice warm tents, enjoying an actual hot meal, cleaning their gear, or getting some much-needed sleep. Up here, night dragged on much longer than any place else on Old Earth, and Andrew was lucky enough to draw Wolf's Share when it came to the watch. It was the middle watch however, it was also the coldest and longest and Andrew was kicking himself for not manipulating the odds.

Another howl made Andrew's blood run cold for a moment. He remembered reading a study of the remaining wolves in this area, that they were more vicious and aggressive than even Cerebri hounds. Andrew really hoped that they were Lord Saladin's wolves, and not a full pack looking for an easy meal.

Andrew looked up, his cold, blue eyes traced one of the many walls built by the Russians of old.

What were they made for, he wondered. Defense? Containment? Segregation?

No one ever really understood why these walls were built here. They predate the Walls of the City by centuries, back to the mid-Golden Age by their designs. The technology was made for both reliability and greatest skill showing both its tenacity and exquisite splendor becoming an inspiration of humanity's accomplishments. Something was not right, though. Chunks larger than a Fallen Walker had been torn out of the walls, scattered across the length of the barrier. He had heard many of rumors what could've caused it, mainly from starved and frightened pilgrims or Guardians who had lost themselves to the Wilds.

These rumors spread through the Pilgrims they guarded even now, and they had no shortage of theories about what was put there, ranging from the nearly plausible to the absurd. His Ghost was enjoying telling him how the pragmatic ones thought may have been due to age and weather, and much larger portions might have been caused by skirmishes with the Fallen. Others, having grown up on country legends about the dark things that lurked in the forgotten corners of the wilderness, was quick to suggest unknown beasts, which included Trolls, Golems and some kind of creature known as a Terrormirage. Then there were the ones who had the most lurid imagination and suspected that the damage was caused by angry spirits, mischievous demon, and even benevolent Gods.

Sometimes it was hard to be the logical one. Andrew waited until his Ghost finished reiterating before ruining all the theories.

"Mid-Golden Age technology was built to last both time and elements. If these were damaged by Fallen, then it would have taken a Ketch to cause this kind of damage."

"So can we rule out Trolls, Golems and Terrormirage?" His Ghost asked.

Andrew stirred the stew his stew and gave it a taste test. He found it eatable and warm enough to keep him comfortable. "I have no idea what a Terrormirage is, and neither does Atlas. Excuse me if I happen to believe a Hunter who spent most of his life in the Wilds then a group of half-frozen pilgrims."

"Well let's table that idea for now, which leaves—"

"Then demon, spirits and angry Gods," A woman's voice came from behind him. It always surprised Andrew how Layla managed to move so carefully in all that armor. "They destroyed the structures out some forgotten heresy and carried off everyone for trespassing in these lands. Things that hunger for blood and souls."

Andrew's super-computer mind went through every holy scripture from Old Earth, and plenty fitted that reasoning, but they had not passed any evidence of human sacrifices or iconology. Plus her attitude had far too much enthusiasm. The Titan's armor was covered in snow and ice. She had a bowl that had a spoon stuck out of it. Andrew could read that sign easily and filled her bowl. "Anything new to report? How are you?"

"Cold, shivering and aching. Nothing is coming to massacre us, yet." He took his own bowl and shoveled some of the stew in his mouth. It was edible but lacked flavor. When it came to field rations, Nel always made sure to come through for them when out on patrol. She would hunt the local wildlife to give extra bulk to their meals, but the nutrition bars were made this decade. "So I'll take it you've been mingling with the Pilgrims? Thought you said we weren't supposed to get involved."

"Food riots and simple squabbles, yes, but a few like to play dice and talk."

"About?"

"How we are leading them to the slaughter. There was some grousing during the night about there never being any real threat at all, that we slept in this ditch for no reason, and if we'd pushed on as planned, we could've made it to the City and slept in comfort." Layla finished her first serving and helped herself to another bowl. "Also how a certain a certain Exo is seducing some of the younger, prettier Pilgrims."

Andrew wouldn't have minded sleeping in his warm tent, out of this storm, and with proper food. The fact that Atlas was at his normal activities was to be expected, though he was happy he was not hitting on Gemini or Layla. He spoke with his mouth full of food. "Who's complaining?"

"Sadly, fathers, brothers, and lovers who I have to dissuade from any honor duels. But their elder is a no-nonsense type, and she won't risk her people without reason. When that she told them to quit their crying, they did."

"That's a relief."

"Oh, and he cheats at cards, too, so as a show of good faith, it would be really nice if he'd give my student his pocket watch back. Caulder's grandfather gave that to him."

"I'll take care of it," Andrew assured the Titan, though the petty part of him was secretly glad to see Caulder receive a well-deserved reality check. "Anything else you want to warn me about?"

"Aside from freezing cold and irrational pilgrims? No. Everything is coming up roses."

Andrew snickered. "And here to think that I was the snarky one."

"What can I say? Your influence has rubbed off on me," she said as she shovels the last bit of the stew in her mouth. "Stew isn't half bad, though."

Andrew smiled slightly at her enthusiasm, but he felt a mixture of other emotions at the thought of him possibly fighting for another century without his team... without Layla. There was fear at the idea of never seeing his Titan again, and unease about what would have become of them if they fell in the field and their Ghost never reached the City. He unconsciously clenched his fists but was surprised to find there was something already in his right hand which squeezed back. Andrew looked down and saw that Layla's hand was gripped in his and that their fingers were intertwined. He wasn't sure which of them had done it, but either way, he felt a sense of comfort from the contact. It gave him warmth to have her so close, even if they were clad in armor.

"Stay close to me," Andrew said.

"Always," Layla said.

Clink... Clink... Clink... Clink...

A sound came from the storm.

Clink.. Clink.. Clink.. Clink..

Red lights on their Head's Up Displays' flashed to life. Something was coming, and there were a lot of things. Red stars illuminated the wall. First one, then ten, then hundreds.

Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.

They were getting brighter. No, not brighter, closer. All of the Guardians had come here expecting the worst. Yet somehow, he knew this was worse than he could imagine. Andrew took another look around at his companions, who were ready to spring into action. He was not surprised to see that Nel had just appeared next to them and seemed deathly calm. Layla seemed lackadaisical as she got off the ground, wiping snow off Her Memory before putting in a fresh magazine. He was less impressed with their students, who came out of one tent in various states of undress. Caulder had his helmet off and was quickly putting a gauntlet back on his arm. Atlas-13 was missing the majority of his upper armor, leaving just his boots and dignity to cold winds. His own student, Gemini, was the most exposed. The young Awoken had decided to come out of her tent in her boots, coat that was torn open by the harsh wind, and any shreds of dignity she could muster.

Nel had ordered all three to finish gearing up and then see to the passenger.

He knew what was going to happen and instinctively placed his ornate helmet on his head. The lights began to move into the light of the fire. Fallen. They had fallen even further than pirates, or guerrillas, or terrorists. Amalgams of dregs came out of the wall, void of color or humanity, wielding weapons with intent to destroy. Andrew reached for the blade on his back pulling Bolt-Caster free from its scabbard. Raw Arc energy danced and crackled along the blade while small blue discharges gave the Guardian better illumination. He grasped it in both his hands, preparing himself for battle as his allies did the same.

"Stay close to me," Layla said, serving as an order but also showing her concern. The mutated Fallen began to change their position, Her Memory barked to life and proceeded to cut down any of the malicious creatures who thought of getting too close.

"Always," Andrew replied. He unleashed a been of Arc Light from the blade which manifested into a lingering electrical storm that devoured any of the Fallen in its path.

It was going to be a long night.

Author's Notes:

So with Rise of Iron coming out in a few days, I wanted to write a little something to go with it. I'll admit I was inspired by the opening trailer with Lord Saladin and his wolf groupies. As for the new characters - Caulder, Gemini "Gemi" Pollux, and Atlas-13 - are characters that belong to Fuuko no Miko. If you wish to know more about them, PM me or her.

Hope you enjoyed.

Until next time.

11/22/16: Just fixing some gramatical errors.