Arbor Warden

Tend the gardens of your heart.

Emreth is tangling with the last Hive Acolyte when he sees the canister, wedged between two unidentifiable heaps of machinery. He can only read some of the letters stamped into its surface: H Y D R O P.

And there it is, barely visible under the glass: a small, leafy plant. Preserved, somehow, and perfectly out of place in the flooded wreckage of the Arcology.

Emreth has a clean shot if he pushes forward, but when the Acolyte lumbers unwittingly in the plant's direction, it makes the decision for him. He feels a shot impact against his pauldron as he runs, hears hissing as the slug starts eating into the relic iron.

He gets to the canister first. Emreth summons his Light in the form of a shimmering barrier. The Acolyte reels back, firing blindly. Emreth puts his back to the barrier and brings up his sword.

It's messy fighting. If he takes a little satisfaction in cleaving the Acolyte's head from its shoulders, he hopes it's beneath the War God's notice.

Emreth surveys the room: quiet now, save for his breathing.

Killswitch patches him through to the commander.

"Transmat site is secure," Emreth says.


He bends down to retrieve the canister—heavy, but fragile in his gauntleted hands.

Emreth holds the tinted glass to the sunlight. "I bet you're good luck."