The guardian inched forward through the dark, creeping deeper into the ancient complex. She moved slowly, cautiously scanning for Fallen traps. The Vanguard's report showed a recent increase in Fallen activity within this area of the Cosmodrome, but she was close. Too close to give up now. She had known it from a gut instinct, even before her ghost had managed to recover that data from the ruined computer system. Most of it had been corrupted beyond repair, but eight simple lines of text remained: [i]"There is no foe beyond my reach. There is no land beyond my sight. Enemies stand out in the dark, and gather strength from the night. They scream and howl and flex their claws, But it is they who are filled with fright. For I can see them and can reach them. And a single shot brings forth the light."[/i] The poem still echoed in her mind. It was here, somewhere. The ancient weapon of legend. A precision rifle able to kill any enemy in a single shot, regardless of range. Gathering her cloak about her, she carefully stepped over another trip mine before dropping to her belly and squeezing through a collapsed section of the bunker. As she crawled through the tunnel, her gaze fell upon an ancient weapons locker on the far end of the room. She froze where she was, her eyes hunting for a tripwire, the tell-tale patch of disturbed earth which concealed a mine, anything which might catch an eager fool rushing to the prize. Finding no trace of a trap, she emerged from the collapsed ruin behind her and rose to her feet. She moved forward and opened the locker. Her breath caught in her chest. There it was. With reverence she laid her fingers on the ancient wooden stock, before taking hold of the long gun and lifting it from its resting place. The metal was untouched by rust, and its wooden stock still held its shine. Admiring its craftsmanship, her gaze drifted from the hair trigger to the tang sights able place a bullet on any square inch this side of the horizon. As she looked to inspect the stock, she noticed eight faint lines of text which had been inscribed into the metal butt plate. Countless years of use had worn any fine detail away, and none of the writing could be made out save for three words on the second line: "no land beyond"