Some have walked these desolate worlds while you have slept. Some like me. I remember what you did. I remember the day.
The Tenno appeared at the Terminus, gleaming and victorious. Our cold and gold Emperors, breathless, bathed you in saviour’s silk. Then came the sound. Across all our worlds, all at once, the ceremonial Naga drums. A royal salute to the honoured Tenno. Ten solemn beats to declare the suffering was over. I watched from a distance, with the rest of the Low Guardians. With each beat terror began to crush my throat. The Tenno were not stoic and silent. They were waiting. They were poised. I tried to call out, but only a strangled whisper escaped.
When the ninth beat rang, a torrent of blood filled the stadium, loosed by Tenno blades. The drums, the Empire, fell silent forever.
Now I hunt, dividing your numbers. Watching from that dark place, cataloguing your sins. I am the ghost of retribution. You may forget, but you are not innocent.