A Long Search

Location: Earth – Old Belfast Shipyards

Destiny, for so many of us, was a game that felt like home.
MyNameIsByf

Rain.

The first sensation was rain.

Cold drops struck bare skin as the man drew his first breath in centuries. He pushed himself upright. Around him, cranes leaned toward the sea like rusted giants. Vines strangled Golden Age machinery. Pools of rainwater reflected broken hulls and a gray sky that seemed to stretch forever. He should have hated the cold. Instead, he found himself listening to the steady rhythm of the rain against steel. It felt... comforting. He didn't know why.

"Sorry about the weather," a voice chirped. "Nothing I can do about that."

He turned sharply.

A small machine drifted into view, its shell opening and closing with quiet precision.

Instinct told him to recoil. His body obeyed.

"Easy," the machine said. "You're going to be seeing a lot of me." It floated a little closer.

"My name is Laoch. I'm your Ghost." A pause. "I've been looking for you for a very long time."

The man frowned. "What... does that mean?"

Laoch's shell rotated once. "It means you're alive again. The rest can wait, we should move."

"Move where?"

The man rose unsteadily, brushing away dirt, ash, and flakes of oxidized metal that clung to battered armor he did not remember wearing.

Laoch projected a sphere of pale Light between them. "You see this?" A perfect white globe hung in the air. "The Traveler." The hologram shifted, revealing a city beneath it. "The Last Safe City. That's where we're going."

The man stared at the image. Something about it felt impossibly familiar. Then the feeling vanished.

"Why should I trust you?" he asked quietly. "I don't know who you are." He hesitated. "I don't even know who I am."

The projection dissolved.

Laoch floated until he was scarcely an arm's length away.

"You don't remember your past. No Guardian ever does. But I know this." His eye brightened. "You have a purpose. So do I. This is only the beginning of ours."

The man searched his thoughts.

Nothing.

No face. No home. No name. Only silence.

"If you come with me," Laoch said, "I'll explain everything I can."

The man nodded.

Together they walked through the drowned shipyard, rain tapping softly against rusted steel and forgotten machines.

He couldn't explain it, but he hoped it never stopped raining.

After several quiet minutes, Laoch spoke again. "I've told you my name, what should I call you?"

The man instinctively reached into his pocket. His fingers found paper. Old. Waterlogged. Nearly gone. He unfolded it with trembling hands. Most of the ink had long since bled away. Dates. Numbers. Destinations. All swallowed by time. Only one word remained. A first name. He read it aloud as though hearing it for the first time.

"Blake."

The Ghost's eye brightened. "Then welcome back, Blake."

The rain never stopped.

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