"Maybe you leave your first apocalypse. But your second one never leaves you." —The Drifter
I had a crew once. My best friends. Which isn't saying much, trust me.
They're all dead now. Almost to a man. So what does that mean for all you lil' Guardians out there who are my new best friends?
Don't think about that one too hard.
Anyway, my crew, or a little subset of it, we leave the system together. Dawn of the City Age at the time. We were looking for somethin' greater than Light. 'Cuz we had seen that Light can be the cause of… so much strife.
We searched far and wide. Must've been… hundreds of years. We found a planet beyond the system bristlin' with an energy that repulsed Light. Naturally, we were curious.
We landed. Intended to settle and conduct the research necessary to make this energy portable. A weapon outta legend called Thorn had similar, Light-repressing capabilities.
It seemed promising. But hand to my heart it was cold. Humans were not meant for that place. Every once in a while a member of the crew would succumb. Died where they stood or sat. Thank the planes for our Ghosts.
We were in high spirits. We were veterans. Grizzled. Hundreds of years in space will do that.
—Drifter's thoughts recited to his Ghost, for posterity. The first of five parts.