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It was the fourteenth of February, well into the Dark Ages.
Deep in an underground tunnel, a Ghost scanned Golden-age concrete and warped rails. Stagnant water sat in puddles between rotting wooden beams, and the shadows pressed in close on all sides.
In the cold bends beneath the surface of Earth, a body laid beside the tracks, his mangled remains fossilised by mud and stagnant air where it hadn't been torn apart by scavengers or minced by the wheels of trains. The one thing intact was his Ahamkara scale coat, still quietly rippling and whispering in the dark. The Ghost scanned the ancient body, light crackling quietly across the coat's scales.
The Ghost knew, then and there, that this was it. His Chosen.
The Ghost waggled his cracked shell slightly, before focusing the Light in his core.
The human sat up with a gasp and a cough. He gathered himself, blinking around at the all-encompassing darkness, and then down to the hands he couldn't see in the murky void he found himself in.
"Guardian!" The Ghost called, his voice repeated by the shadows still embracing them.
"Eyes up, Guardian!"
The boy lifted his head. He could barely see anything, even with the gentle light that rippled from the cracked steel of the drone before him.
"…Hello?" he greeted, his rasping voice echoing back at him from the shadows.
"Hello!" The Ghost excitedly greeted. He sat on the concrete for a minute longer before slowly rising to his feet. Somewhere, something whistled, a distant howl echoing through the cavernous tunnels.
"Whoa. Did you hear that?" The Guardian asked.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did, Guardian. We… might want to-" the Ghost began.
"We should go check it out!" He eagerly suggested, despite his dry throat.
Oh dear. He had heard tales from other, luckier Ghosts about their fresh, overeager Guardians before.
The human's hands found a wall to his right. His hands were bare, he deduced, feeling along the cracked bricks that formed the wall of the tunnel. He took a deep breath in and moved his legs, boot clanking against a length of metal on his left. He inspected it, tapping along the lengthwise beam that stretched through the abyss. Again, that distant howl. A faint breeze stirred his curls, caressing his face. He lifted his head into the wind, starting slowly forward.
After only a few kilometres of tripping down the tunnel like a blind drunkard, a blinding headlight broke through the black. The Guardian's eyes flicked down. He was standing on a track, and that little light was beginning to grow.
"That ain't good, is it?" He asked his Ghost, scooping the drone against his chest. Somewhere, a memory, a rumble against his chest, warm fur under his hands.
"That ain't good," the Ghost confirmed. He nodded, turned on his heel, and started running.
The ground was trembling, the hulking metal vessel racing after him despite being oblivious to his presence. He ran like… well, like he was running from a train, he supposed. His legs screamed, long-dry muscles suddenly moistened and moving again, like a machine left to rust before suddenly being dragged back into service. He was panting, greedily taking in whatever oxygen the stagnant air would spare. He could already feel the tug of air being displaced by the rapidly approaching train.
Something caught him by the hood. And suddenly, he was floating.
The top of the train roared past underfoot as he was pulled up into a nook formed by a section of collapsed ceiling. He gaped at it, then blinked up at the person who had grabbed him by the scruff. In the low light, he could make out ivory metal, glowing eyes a shade too blue to be white, a navy and yellow hood.
She was beautiful.
"Hello?" He greeted her. The exo glanced up at the newly revived Hunter, but said nothing, turning away from him. For a few minutes, there was silence, filled by the roar of the train racing past underfoot. When it passed, it left behind the scent of smoke and fluttering dust. The whole time, the Hunter had been gazing at his saviour, her form wreathed in shadows. And then she leapt out of the nook, hurrying down the tunnel the way the train had come. He leapt out after her, awkwardly trailing her for a few stumbling steps.
"Wait- uh, Hello? What's your- Hey? Thank you! Bye!" He called after her retreating form. She was swallowed by the shadows a moment later, leaving behind a confused Lightbearer and his equally bemused Ghost. They watched after her for a moment, before his feet finally moved. He took a few steps backward before he turned, starting down the rails after the train.
He owed her, that Exo Stranger. He wouldn't forget her.
The first thing The Beastmaster ever did when he was first resurrected was almost get run over by a train.
The second thing he did was fall in love.