Mars is going into the Destiny Content Vault in November with the release of Beyond Light. Ana Bray, a popular character in the Destiny universe and recent star of the Season of the Worthy with Rasputin is going to live on, unlike some of her other NPC counterparts. We also have the Exo Stranger coming next season, Ana’s Sister… so it will be interesting to see if the Bray sisters get back together.
First of all let’s remind ourself who Ana is.
Dr. Anastasia Bray is a Hunter Gunslinger and an adopted member of House Bray. Prior to her first death, she was a psycholinguist who helped develop the Warmind Rasputin by teaching it independent thought. After the Collapse, Ana was revived by a Ghost named Jinju. Unlike most Guardians, Ana had knowledge about her past life due to a Clovis Bray ID she was wearing upon her revival. She became a hero of the Last City, but disappeared after the Battle of Twilight Gap, with many believing her dead, in order to investigate her past. She received help from Owl Sector operative Camrin Dumuzi, who Ana eventually entered into a relationship with. Her search led her to a Clovis Bray facility in the Hellas Basin on Mars, where Ana hoped to recruit Rasputin in aiding humanity against its enemies. However, the presence of a Hive brood called the Grasp of Nokris complicated her efforts, and Ana teamed up with The Young Wolf and Commander Zavala to rescue the Warmind.
She had tried everything. The great Bray. A lineage that promised to save them. For all her genius and moxie, this was beyond her.
Rasputin lay dying in a dozen empty screens splayed out around Ana’s command station. She could visualize the bleeding code running through her fingers. Zavala’s voice was in her ear, as ambient haze—relegated to the background of her mind like distant gunfire. The image of the Pyramid’s distortion wave was still raw. This wasn’t an attack. It was a command. A lazy dismissal of all their best laid plans.
There were no explosions. No blaring sirens or sparks of dramatic electricity. Nothing to combat or fix. Just a Guardian walled in silent black glass and disbelief.
She had been so sure.
Ana’s eyes tracked Jinju as the Ghost sped from console to console, attaching strings of Light to each. They slowed her as she went, buried under some load.
“Ana,” Jinju’s voice strained under crushing distortion. “I think I’ve got him. Most of him, but not for long.”
The words cut through the distant gunfire. “What?” Ana asked. Her voice came softly at first, unsure what form to take as the information processed. “What?!”
Jinju groaned and whispered an exasperated, “Pillory… Engram…”
“It’s not ready.”
“He’ll go insane! I… can’t.”
The Light tethers attached to Jinju began to pop one by one. “It’s this or nothing!”
The prospect sent Ana tearing across the room. She belted a command into the air, and a floor safe opened in response. Ana snatched the dodecahedron enclosure from the safe and braced it in front of Jinju.
“Jinju, do it!”
The Ghost’s shell reformed to forge a directing structure before her core erupted with Light and data. A stream of pure information beamed into the Engram, filling it with spiraling wisps of Light.
“As much as I could.”
Outside the windows, bolts of atmospheric friction dragged flames through the sky as Warsats plummeted from low-orbit defensive positions. Their impacts were distant.
Zavala set down two glasses. He watched Ana’s face as he poured velvet-looking liquor and filled them. Her eyes were focused on the grains of his desk, how to the unobservant, they would fade away into the greater canvas of wood, indistinguishable from each other.
The Traveler hung behind him, buried in a darkening cloud, a part of and apart from the sky.
“I can’t believe we lost,” she said.
“We are not lost.”
Zavala pushed a glass toward Ana.
“I froze. We still don’t even know what—if we saved anything,” she said.
“It’s not so easy to act in the face of defeat. The prospect of a future is something we have to keep in mind.”
Ana glared at Zavala. “Nothing we do is supposed to be easy. Isn’t that the point? This was a stress test, and I buckled.”
“Faith, Ana. You reminded me that we wrap ourselves in the doubt of past failures. Without you, the City would be ash and rubble, more than once.”
Ana scooped the glass into her hand. She smelled the liquor, winced, and placed it back on the table. “You believed in me. Rasputin was my job.”
“Yes, and he still is. A job for the future,” Zavala said and sipped his drink. “Now we have a new job. Eris needs our support.”
“Tell me everything isn’t over.”
“When Cayde passed, I saw the fracturing of the Vanguard as a path toward inevitable failure. Still, it has proved impossible to fill his seat. I believed I would be too weak to lead without the balance added by his… unique perspective. As it turns out, his life was but one in an eternity of choices.”
“Zavala, I don’t want—”
“Relax, I’m not offering you the job. Unless you killed Cayde, and we’ve had the wrong man this whole time?”
“If I did, would you forgive me?”
“I’d understand,” he said and smiled. “Ikora told me back then that an object in motion stays in motion. I’ve always admired the phrase, but I must admit, it can be difficult to adhere to.”
Ana shook her head. “That’s just physics.”
“A fundamental aspect of life.” He watched Ana’s mood lighten as she considered his words. “We find the footholds we can, and make the best step given the ground we have before us.”
Ana nodded. “Whatever happened to Cayde’s chicken?”
Zavala sighed. “I believe Saint has anointed it as some sort of ‘Pigeon Lord.'”
Ana’s locked jaw melted into a smile.
“Life does not wait for us, no matter how long we live it. Drink your drink,” Zavala chuckled, his glass to his face. “Before the Lord of Pigeons summons us to attack the Pyramids.”
Ana: Black Box
As Ana Bray watched the Guardian’s Sparrow rocket across Hellas Basin for the last time, she saw a confidant who had believed in her when no one else would. That faith, Zavala had reminded her, was a bond with more power than all the Warmind weapons in the system. It was a promise to go on—an agreement that there was still a future. Jinju had called it “reverse salvage.” She knew a thing or two about building something from the wreckage of their past.
The building was nearly empty. She had sent as much tech to the Tower as they could handle: an entire freight vessel’s worth, packed to bursting.
She turned to the large glass window overlooking silent Warsat cannons. There were no Cabal. The death buried beneath Mars had quieted. Valkyrie subroutines that could be maintained remotely remained active, just in case.
Jinju ran final checks on the jumpship. A dark Pyramid loomed overhead. An experimental Exo chassis was secured in the ship’s cargo hold. One foot in front of the other.