"This is the Perfect Paradox," Osiris says. There is a note of both reverence and confusion in his voice. He holds the gun in his hands as if it is very delicate, an ancient relic. "Saint-14's gun."
He looks up to meet your eyes. "You created a version of this weapon at the Infinite Forge, didn't you? The one in my hands is a different version entirely, marked with an altered form of your Light that dates back to the Dark Age. Long before you were resurrected."
He shakes his head. "I don't understand it. Why would you find this now? What timeline exists that I have yet to see, that places you in the Dark Age?" His gaze has gone distant, contemplative. "Perhaps…" But he cuts himself off. "No. Saint-14 is lost. This is just another anomaly created by the Cabal's misuse of the Sundial. All the more reason to stay focused on our task." He meets your eyes again, and his expression is steely. "We can't allow ourselves to become distracted chasing the dead."