The Ghost whirred to life, the distant shrieking waking it from its stupor. It drifted through the cold, metallic catacomb, tempted to shiver as a living being might. It could feel its light fading. Remembered flashes of the battle. It'd become accustomed to violent tremors and the hail of mortarfire. But now, as it struggled towards the multioctaved screams of his guardian, the ghost felt as if his own thoughts were enough to end his journey. Ascending an ancient staircase, windowed glimpses of the outside transitioned from those of a deep, indigo sea to a hazy, snow-covered lanscape. He thought he saw one of them briefly pass over the fields outside, a dark silhouette against the distant gas giant. Felt even more cold. But as his guardian's lamenting became a snarl, his snarl a roar, and the ghost felt the entire tower heave as a wave of energy powerful enough to boil an organic’s cells exploded from above, the ghost felt warmth. As the surrounding ice gave way to the guardian’s spark, and the tower surged into the waiting ocean depths, and a chorus of fire and sonorous orbital destruction began their symphony, the ghost felt… Hope.