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Eris has not been truly afraid for a long, long time. She left her fear at the bottom of the pit, with her past self, with those she loved. But now, the foreboding prospect of the fight against the Witness makes her skin crawl, makes her feel cold. She has lived her life as a deep shadow in the brightest hour, and now she must bring herself out into the light proper.
She looks to the sky, and it is all the Traveler’s dream.
Beside her, the Drifter, looking up. She wonders what he sees in that multitude of stars. Is he afraid?
The Witness’ quiet rage poisons the very air they are breathing. Bitter and spiteful and incompatible with the Traveler's gentle winds. In its heart, everything is dying.
But Eris can feel more. Her senses, attuned through centuries to the unknown, to the occult, reach beyond what a simple eye can see. She feels the end of things, one way or another. The entirety of the Lightbearers and their allies have come here for a final stand, and they would not leave until it is over - or they are dead.
She must not be afraid.
Before they charge, Eris feels her hand become engulfed with rough warmth. The Drifter’s hand around hers, a tight grasp. No one gets to see, but she gets to feel. That grounding gesture, all his love in it. Reminding her of herself, of what she has.
He is not running.
Eris does not need him to be stronger. But his presence makes the world more beautiful and comforting, even as they are headed for the undoing.
Zavala says a speech. Grandeur and inspiration, a promise and a reminder. All her lessons instilled in him, his hard-won trust - in the Stasis fist of his armour. Eris smiles from the corner of her mouth when she sees it gleam, raised up high.
And then all hell breaks loose.
***
Bullets fill the sky like fireworks. Laser beams of energy leave scorch marks on the stone. The Guardians cry out their battle cries as Light and Darkness guides their hand. The Eliksni bring their arsenal, and Caiatl and her troops have followed the rest of the Lightbearers deeper into the Witness’ lair. Mara and her Awoken charge the air with their tech magic, and the Queen’s wrath of centuries in the making returns a favour to the silent god.
All has finally converged in a single point in time.
The fight is fast and brutal. Eris ducks away behind a rock as a swarm of Attendants hurries towards her, their guns shooting sharp searing bits of Stasis in her direction. She whispers at her Hive rune rosary, then conjures a wave of Stasis of her own. The crystals travel at speed, encasing the Dread all in ice, as the Drifter jumps into the air - and down he goes, crushing the group into pieces.
Bits of them, of ice, crunch under his heavy boots.
“Well done,” Eris says. Her three eyes focus on him. Then she adds, “Thank you.”
“I love you.”
She stares at the Drifter. A multitude of thoughts passes through her head, a second feels like a minute. Now is the time he chooses for confessions? He is more of a foolish romantic than she thought.
“Germaine-”
“No,” he cuts her off. His hands grasp her arms, and he stares at her intensely. His beautiful eyes, like stars in this place, for once so bright and alive. “Save it for later, Moonlight, if you wanna say it. I want to have a later to come back to. ‘right?”
And right then and there, he leans to kiss her. Frivolous, frantic, fast. Her mouth feels bruised by his passion, and she returns the favour in those fleeting seconds as their lips meet. She smiles, feeling reckless.
Their kiss is disrupted with a screech and ringing in their ears. A swarm of Grim hovers above them, so many, too many. Eris throws a knife towards them, slashing through their wings, but it is not enough to get rid of them. Drifter is winded as his Light gathers in his hands.
The sweetness of the moment is soured by fear. Eris is frightened.
Until she takes a step back, and something warm and hopeful once again engulfs her.
She looks down.
Beneath her feet, a pool of Light like no other. Shimmering with all the possible hues, singing in her veins. It has been so long since she felt the Traveler’s presence, but it calls to her. Its child. An invitation to be once more what she was chosen to be. To temporarily collect the shards of herself that were left in Hellmouth.
A Prismatic Wellspring offers her respite.
Eris steps into the pool of Transcendent Light and her body blazes with Solar energy, singing through Stasis crystals. A perfect duet. She laughs, feeling every moment of her life come together in this instance, every line of her past converging. Where she was meant to be, what she was meant to become. A Witch, a Lightbearer, a Sister.
She looks at the Drifter and sees that his eyes are wide open, and admiration colours them. His face, old and weary, is softened with pink light.
“Join me,” Eris whispers, and the Drifter does so, no hesitation.
***
He left the title of a Lightbearer on a distant planet, along with so many bits of self, so long ago. The Drifter is a different man now, a collective of pain and memories and choices, and a name to veil them all. Yet, when he steps into the bright shimmering pool of Prismatic Light, something washes away from him. The viscera of grief pulls away, cleanses him.
And Eris by his side, magnificent.
Their Light sings in unison. His Void grenade gifts her an Overshield, and her healing fire draws together the sliced wounds on his forehead where the Dread got him. The Grim melt under the pressure of their Light, and Eris and the Drifter move on further into the fight.
On this battlefield, they are one with Light and Darkness. They are a spear and a shield, a bullet and a knife. The smell of blood mixes with a sweet fragrance of flowers that grow all over the Pale Heart like an angelic carpet.
When the energy wanes, he and Eris follow back to the Transcendent pools, refilled with the Traveler’s generous gift.
The Drifter feels as if he has been there his entire life. As if that battle was all he’s ever known. He almost forgets himself, if not for Eris’ face, her deep voice keeping him afloat. And then - a scream of pain and rage like no other. Grief itself manifesting in a thousand voices that soon becomes just one. One voice, confused, pained, questioning.
“I… don’t understand.”
The sound reverberates through the Drifter’s very body. Prismatic power leaves him, and he feels fatigued and emptied. But also free, but for a moment.
His eyes meet Eris’. The black tears of her Hive visage are smudged on her cheeks.
“It’s over. Damn, Moonlight, it’s over,” he cries. He cries with hot happy tears, not knowing what his body is doing, being so vulnerable.
“It is done,” Eris echoes him.
Cries and cheers fill their ears. The whole world celebrates a final death.
***
The Drifter stares outside a small alcove where it overlooks the Last City courtyard. The sky is filled with floating lanterns, warm and bright like stars. They burn and rise and carry gratitude and hope.
Two feelings that are so alien to him.
How long has he been running? How long has he been avoiding what the Traveler wished for him? How long has he been carving out the title of a Lightbearer from himself, just to subvert his fate?
His fingers curl over the alcove’s edge, then he leans on it with both arms, sighing.
“A fine celebration,” Eris speaks behind him. As he turns to look, her green eyes stare at the sky as well. No eyeblind to hide them.
“And for once we were invited. Ain't a party crasher no more.”
“Yet, here we are, away from all.”
“I like it better, watching from the sidelines. Besides,” he pulls Eris closer by her waist. “This is my ‘later’ to come back to.”
Eris huffs a small laugh, her eyes still trained on the lantern-filled sky. Drifter watches her. In her face, he sees a future. Things that might happen yet. He sees mornings with bitter coffee and staying up late, talking about all things mystical. He sees a walk in a park. He sees travel all over the system, if she would go. And if she doesn’t, he would bring back gifts from his journeys. And kiss her breathless.
He turns to look at the night sky again.
In silence, they watch together. The Drifter feels his chest opening up, raw and vulnerable. It is unused to the fluttering of a heart nor to the peaceful calm sea of emotion. Still his feet yearn to run, even from that.
“You are troubled,” Eris says. She turns in his half-embrace. Her three-eyes seek his face. “Share with me.”
“I dunno, Moonlight. Not used to that, any of that. Years of running and running… This paradise ain't for me, or so my brain says.”
She rests her hand against his heart. Her fingers are cold as he wraps his hand around hers. Calloused from her magic.
“But what does your heart say?”
He hesitates.
“Something cheesy. Like, ‘paradise is where you are’.”
To his surprise, Eris smiles almost sweetly.
“There will be a lot of new beginnings, Drifter. One can be yours.”
Eris touches his chin, tips his face up. The warm gold of the lanterns plays on his face, and on hers. They look at each other for a moment longer. Both so old, so weary. Love settles around their shoulders like a delicate shawl.
Drifter leans into Eris’ touch, his cheek cupped by her gentle hand.
“This ain’t a beginning, Moonlight. This is better.”
“A… continuation?”
“Yeah. Never had those before. I could get used to it.”
She leans up to him and presses their lips together. A seal of that promise, and the Drifter cannot help but gather her closer, with a promise to not let go for the rest of this long, beautiful night of celebration.