Time

It was called the Chicago Public Library.

Technically it was one of many libraries that bore that name, but seven centuries of neglect had done a number on the city's road signs, not to mention the city itself, so pinpointing this library's exact name was difficult. The place that humanity had called Chicago was a relic of a lost time, sinking into a swamp that, like time itself, just wanted to swallow the whole place up. Guardians didn't come here. The Hive didn't come here. Maybe the Fallen had been here once, but if so, that was in the murky depths of history, without any mark that endured to the present. Chicago was a city that, like every other major city on Earth, had been destroyed by the Darkness. And like most of those cities, its builders had never reclaimed it. Only the natural world had.

And yet, seven centuries on, she was within a library. The Last City had a library with books dating back centuries. In contrast, this place was a mausoleum of lost art, of crumbling books and shattered desks. Time had finished off what the Darkness and exposure to the elements had begun. Maybe, a few centuries from now, archaeologists would be able to make something of this. But she wasn't an archaeologist, and she was far more interested in beginning endings, than studying endings that had occurred so long ago. And yet…She smiled as best as her robotic jaw would allow as she picked up a magazine. One that, by some miracle, was still readable. Maybe this beginning of the end would have some interest. Through artificial eyes, she looked at the text.

July 18th, 2026

TIMES

FRIEND OR FOE?

After appearing above Mars, what mystery does the Traveller bring?

The magazine showed a picture of the Traveller above Earth. Likely an artist's approximation, given the time stamp, but quite a good one. She'd seen the Traveller above the Last City. She's stood in its shadow, evaded its light, and disappeared into the dark. That was two years ago. And now, she-

"What on Earth are you doing here?"

-and now she picked up her rifle and turned around. No-one, in light or shadow, got the drop on her. But, she reflected, as she looked down her rifle's sight, everything had a beginning. Everything had a first coming, whether it be the Traveller, the Darkness, the aliens that laid claim to Earth, or, in this case, the Guardian. The Guardian she hadn't seen for two years.

"I have my reasons, Guardian."

The Guardian just stood there, pointing a gun at her. Ghost above her, sword at her side, clad in armour very different from what she'd worn when last they'd seen each other. So, she just stood there herself – the one the Vanguard called "the Stranger." A name she was quite happy with.

"You're no longer using my rifle," she said.

"I found a better one."

"And the sword?" the Stranger asked.

"I'm an Iron Lord, apparently," the Guardian said. "Though I prefer the term Iron Lady."

"Well then," said the Stranger. "I see you know where your priorities lie." She looked at the Guardian's Ghost. "Does your little light approve?"

"Don't call me that," said the Ghost.

"Very well, lightbulb." The Stranger returned her gaze to the Guardian. "So, what now? Are you going to pull the trigger? Swing the sword? Use the powers of the Light?"

"No."

"And yet, your gun is raised." The Stranger took a step towards the Guardian. The Guardian didn't flinch. But she still spoke.

"Why are you here?"

The Exo let out a mental sigh. Of course, she reflected. They were going to play that game.

"I don't have time to explain."

The gun stiffened. "The Black Heart is destroyed. Crota is dead. Oryx is dead. SIVA has been neutralized. Hundreds, if not thousands of the City's foes lie upon the sands of Earth and beyond, many of them by my hand, so yes, you do have time to explain."

"I don't have time to explain why I don't…" The Stranger trailed off. She suspected that excuse wouldn't work this time.

"You're here, on the other side of the Atlantic, going through a dead city." The Guardian lowered her rifle, but not her guard. "You seem to have time for some things."

"The Darkness is not so power that it does not offer respite."

"So I see." The Guardian nodded to the magazine. "What's that?"

"Times."

"What?"

The Stranger tossed it over. The Ghost let out a beam, catching the publication in mid-air. "Like I said. Times. A pre-Golden Age publication that kept up with them, and by some miracle, wasn't lost to time."

"Very poetic."

"Keep it. Your library needs a serials section."

"Perhaps. How about non-fiction?"

"Or reference," the Ghost popped up.

The Stranger remained silent. Was this a game, she wondered, and if so, who was playing? She'd give her lackey one thing – the last two years had hardened her. Less wide-eyed, less trusting, less naive. All factors that informed her that being wry and evasive wouldn't work this time.

"Why are you here?" the Stranger asked.

"Because you're here," the Guardian answered. "Because the Vanguard is curious, and their technology is not as primitive as you might think. Because I'm curious. Because Sparky-"

Sparky?! Light almighty, you didn't name your Ghost, did you?

"…doesn't like being called mean names, and I think you owe him an apology." The Guardian frowned. "And you also owe me explanations."

"Such as?"

"Who you are, what you are, where you come from, how you came here, and-"

"And why?" The Stranger asked. She paused, before saying, "that's always the most important question isn't it? Why? Why the Traveller came? Why the Darkness followed? Why do I help you? You don't care how I do the things I do, only that my motives are just"

The Guardian nodded.

"Well then," the Exo said. "I'll tell you why."

For a moment, the Guardian dropped her guard. For a moment, she seemed ready to trust her. Drawing out a pistol and firing a single shot, hitting the Guardian in the torso, it was all the time the Stranger needed. She smirked as she watched the Guardian fall, darkness flowing around her and her Ghost. Temporarily incapacitating her, and thankfully, keeping her silent.

"I won't insult you by saying there's no time to explain why one not forged in the Light would help its children," the Stranger said. "But I will say that you're not ready."

The Guardian couldn't speak, but the look in her eyes said more than her mouth ever could.

"You want to know who the true enemy is?" the Stranger asked. "Read the magazine." She chuckled. "Time. Time has finished off what the Darkness began. Time is the resource your Traveller needs more than anything, as it continues to recover. Time is…well, your foe. It always will be."

And you? asked the eyes of the Guardian.

"Farewell."

It wasn't an answer, she reflected, as she entered the dark between the stars, to a realm unseen by those blinded by the Light. But she would not speak more lies. Time, at least, was kind to her right now. Had given her enough time to come here, and reflect on what was to come.

And wonder how much time there was to prepare for it.

A/N

In case you're wondering, the magazine article is taken verbatim from a promotional pre-release image, only with Now instead of Times. Still, it uses the same style of font, so I took a little liberty.