The Traveler is gone. I watched it as it left the City. The sky lit up like the world was ending. It's still up there, though. When the sun is at the right angle you can see it like a second moon. I remember, as a teenager, sitting on the roof of my apartment building, watching the pieces of the Traveler reform. I could feel the Light in the way they say Guardians and Ghosts can. I felt so confident that day, so sure that we were all going to be saved. Many are doubting, but when I look up into the sky and see that the Traveler is still there—defending not just the City, but all of Earth—my faith is as strong as ever. In the days since the Traveler left, Coalition ships have filled the City's skies. I remember my uncle talking about the last time he saw Cabal ships in the sky—it was the day my mother died. It feels like we've been through so much in such a short time. My uncle would tell me our family's stories every night. We'd lost all the written copies after the invasion, but now they exist in me, and I will record what I remember. So we know where we came from and what was lost. Everyone is saying this is the end. But I know enough history to be sure that it's not the first time we've felt this way. Every threat the City faces feels like it'll be the last. My uncle died during the Endless Night, saving Eliksni that once tried to lay siege to our home. Nothing lasts forever and everything changes. Buildings burn, people die, but we move on. I don't think this is the end. I think this is a new beginning.