Chapter Text
Let me start this story with myself.
I am a ghost. I was created by the Traveler a long… long time ago. My purpose was to find a person who had once been alive to bring back. Some ghosts found their guardians quickly. Others died in the vast Darkness, lit and extinguished in the same breaths.
I searched for far longer than many. I found him in a cosmodrome in old Russia, but that will only become important later.
What’s important is this: I have a name: North. He has a name: Felix Ranier. I don’t know what he was, but I know who he is: a warlock, a voidwalker. A guardian.
We bring our guardians back able to walk and speak and think and run and shoot because if not, they would die. We bring our guardians to the Tower because what else are we meant to do? Ghosts who do otherwise end up the jailkeepers of the mad.
I found his skeleton near a multitude of cars rusted to uselessness.
[recording corrupted] suited [recording corrupted] purpose. These things I saw, and these things I removed.