[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycZhbV7CitY]Prophecy | Wasteland (Mercury): "Dredgen. Let’s Play a Game." | Season of Arrivals[/url] credit: Destiny Lore Vault [i]"[b]The Emissary:[/b] Dredgen. Let's play a game. Your kind reveals so much in the choices you make. [b]Drifter:[/b] What the hell does that mean? You know what - okay, I'll bite. [b]The Emissary:[/b] Your feet find purchase in shifting sands. [b]Drifter:[/b] Okay, why is it getting hot? Do you feel that, Guardian? I can't… I can't see anything. [b]The Emissary:[/b] The night has enveloped you. This is a world full of Dark. No sparks. [b]Drifter:[/b] What's that smell? [b]The Emissary:[/b] The stench of the dead. [b]Drifter:[/b] Am I dead? I hope so, because what I'm smelling, I don't want to be touching. [b]The Emissary:[/b] You stand atop a dead world. A collapse. [b]Drifter:[/b] Get me outta here. [b]The Emissary:[/b] Very well. Your feet find purchase in shifting sands. [b]Drifter:[/b] Holy hell, what're you doing now? It's too bright! [b]The Emissary:[/b] The sun is blinding. This is a world is full of Light. No shadows. A creature runs into you in its blindness; it nearly bowls you over. [b]Drifter:[/b] [grunts] Hey, watch it! What was that? That's not funny. [b]The Emissary:[/b] It has lived here all its life. Too long. It is very old. But if you could see, you would see it appears young. [b]Drifter:[/b] Okay, when I said "get me outta here," I meant I'm done with your bull- [b]The Emissary:[/b] It grabs your hand. [b]Drifter:[/b] Don't touch me. [b]The Emissary:[/b] It begs. It begs you for help. [b]Drifter:[/b] You call this a game? [b]The Emissary:[/b] It begs you for death. On this world, ruled by full Light, it cannot die. It has companions that are as long-lived. It hates them, and they hate it. It will never end. It will never die. [b]Drifter:[/b] Get me outta here, Orin! It won't let go. I can smell it rotting! [b]The Emissary:[/b] And it smells you! You won't help it? [b]Drifter:[/b] I said I'm done! [b]The Emissary:[/b] Very well. [b]Drifter:[/b] What the hell is wrong with you, you lunatic? [b]The Emissary: [/b]You asked about Light and Dark. Come find us again any time, Dredgen. Guardian".[/i] [url=https://www.destinypedia.com/Entelechy#Scribe_Archive_XI-14-9D]Scribe Archive XI-14-9D[/url] This (link above) is from "Entelechy" which describes a moment/memory of Osiris, also informed by the cutscene and script that began the topic, [i]"TYPE: Emergency Transmission RETRIEVED FROM: The Spider's collection - long-range communications beacon; disabled ORIGIN: Unknown KEYWORDS: Witness ANNOTATED TRANSCRIPTION FOLLOWS I learned of its arrival scarcely three marks ago. As my anchor slumbered in the belly of this ancient outpost, I drifted into the noosphere N webbing, and was swept up in delight. Millions of thoughtforms sharing the news, the revelation spreading from leading to trailing edge, until even I was buoyed by the tide of joy. First contact, with a stranger ∩ friend-to-be! A chance for the hazy margins of our noosphere to grow, to encounter new thoughts and expand with new richness. It had been so long since we encountered the whisper ∩ Nightmare ∩ predatory memeplex*. We had grown naïve without the reminder of fear. From the leading edge came a current. It swept through our noosphere, a spark in dry brush ∩ ink in water ∩ hope curdling in an instant. The emanations were confused and fragmentary. I could not parse them all. Planets stolen from space, ripe fruit plucked from orbit. Structures dissected and reassembled by thousand-fingered hands. Anchors and selves unraveled into first principles, sectioned into wafer-thin slices.** It was only one voice at first. A cry of joy at the meeting of a new mind, twisted to fear and pain. "Help me!" Chaos in the noosphere. The placid surface churned into white froth. Thoughtforms scattering in their thousands, fleeing up the webbing-strands, and finding doom at every junction. "Help me!" The stranger ∩ ruin ∩ predatory memeplex engulfed our noosphere in a moment's idle fancy. Our thoughtforms were atomic in comparison. We never stood a chance. As each of my people were found, and taken apart, and reassembled, a new voice joined the chorus. "Help me!" My people died in their thousands. Thoughts and selves wisping away into nothingness. Thousands of years of memory, no more than smoke in the wind. "Help me!" Here, in this outpost, I am apart from the rest. Tethered at the trailing edge. Furthest from its lamprey maw. Not far enough to escape. Not near enough to help. "Help me!" A thousand emanations from a thousand minds, blending into a single scream. The same scream, every time. Again and again and again and again. When we untethered ourselves from their anchors, we knew that we as a people would not be divided again. No matter how far we traveled in real space, the vastness of our noosphere ∩ webbing ∩ home was but a thought away. Our fears, our hopes, our dreams, our longings, our triumphs—we would always be able to reach out and know one another. Where one was weak, another could be strong. We would share each other's joy, and bear each other's pain. But that—that sound— "Help me!" I am ashamed to admit that I could not bear it a moment longer. I severed ∩ exiled ∩ imprisoned myself. I regretted it the moment I did. We were dying, but we were dying together. My unimaginable cowardice will not assure my survival, only a delay in my execution. The ruin ∩ predatory memeplex ∩ WITNESS*** knows the pattern of our oscillations. I can hear it, still plucking the tattered edges of the noosphere ∩ webbing. —-Why do you hide?—-**** THE WITNESS will find me, and when it does, there will be nothing ∩ no one. I believed I would die alone in this abandoned outpost. But I found a crate, forgotten deep within a dusty storeroom. Emergency beacons, produced and stored in another time, one when we knew the fear of death. —-We see you.—- To you ∩ receiver ∩ inheritor ∩ [u]hope[/u]d-[u]for[/u]-[u]future[/u] [b][Osiris][/b], I offer what little I know: We are dead but not unmade. We are ossified ∩ temporized ∩ reiterated ∩ perpetuated ∩ anatomized ∩ finalized.***** I do not know if this will help. I do not know. I do not. But perhaps you will prevail. —-Come, now. Don't be afraid.—- This is not a call for help. It is too late ∩ there is no one left ∩ THE WITNESS cannot be stopped. This is our last proof. We ∩ the Noesis existed. TRANSCRIPTION ENDS"[/i] Also from Prophecy, [i]"The Emissary: The Witch Queen is yet another piece on the board. She has agency. But the board has not changed".[/i] And 👀, [i]"The Guardian approaches the Emissary of the Nine at Io [u][b]Drifter:[/b][/u] Hey, Three Eyes. You spending all your time on Io now? [u][b]Eris Morn:[/b][/u] Or the Moon. Depending on the weather. [u][b]Drifter:[/b][/u] What do you think of all this? [b][u]Eris Morn:[/u][/b] All of what? [b][u]Drifter:[/u][/b] The black fleet. The end of the line. End of the Light. [b][u]Eris Morn:[/u][/b] It hasn't come to that. Not yet. [b][u]Drifter:[/u][/b] How do you know? [b][u]Eris:[/u][/b] It hasn't been dark enough. [b][u]Drifter:[/u][/b] Look at the sky. [u]Nightfall's comin'.[/u] [b][u]Eris Morn:[/u][/b] [u]We'll live in the night if we have to. I've been there before. So have you. So has the Guardian.[/u] [b][u]Drifter:[/u][/b] It ain't pleasant. [b][u]Eris Morn:[/u][/b] No. But [u]necessary.[/u] For what follows. [b][u]Drifter:[/u][/b] And what's that? [b][u]Eris Morn:[/u][/b] [u]Dawn".[/u][/i] [i]"@ErisXDrifter Thank you 😊. And I predict your stuff is coming next year to close out the saga; both Eris and Germaine (my theory) will be important. Eris because of the statue... Drifter because of Orin".[/i] The statue in "Last Chance", btw. I predicted the end of the Final Shape content year in February 2024. [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/263632135?sort=0&page=0]Key... keywords... Egg[/url]