Mercury is heading into the Destiny Content Vault in November when Beyond Light is released. With Mercury goes Brother Vance, a disciple of Osiris. This season we had some interesting lore detailing Brother Vance’s exit from the Destiny story in the Book of Duress and Egress, and I’d like to go over that today.
First of all let’s remind ourselves who is Brother Vance.
Brother Vance is a blind disciple and representative of the Cult of Osiris. When the Wolf Rebellion began, Vance travelled to the Vestian Outpost in the Reef and attempted to recruit the strongest Guardians for the Trials of Osiris, offering entry and rewards to the event. After leaving the Reef, Vance led The Lighthouse, a Cult outpost on Mercury located near the entrance to the Infinite Forest. He has written multiple books on Osiris and spends much time reading the portents and watching for Osiris’ prophecies to come true. Ikora Rey derisively called Vance “Osiris’ greatest fan.” The de facto leader of the cult, Brother Vance, admits to having never met Osiris and expresses intense jealousy that the Guardian met with him in the Infinite Forest.
Brother Vance’s smile fell as the Titan entered his sanctum. The smell was unmistakable: ancient gunpowder, burnt oil, scorched Vex fluid, the burnt tang of steel overused through a hundred lifetimes.
“You have the Perfect Paradox,” Vance said, his voice as steady as he could manage. He extended his hands. “May I?”
The Titan shrugged, then dug into his pack for the Shotgun. He placed it in Vance’s waiting hands.
He ran his fingers over the barrel and tested the weight of the stock. “Ah,” he said. “Not the original Perfect Paradox, is it?”
The Titan stood in confusion. Vance waited for a moment with his head tilted before he continued.
“You did not claim this weapon from the tomb of Saint-14, but instead through some Fractaline-powered tesseract, yes?”
The Titan nodded, then stood for a long moment looking at the blind man. “That Sundial made it,” he said finally.
Vance’s grip tightened on the gun. It was heavy, loaded with seven—no, eight shells. Tactical mag. Getting this one had taken some time.
“And how many timelines did you thoughtlessly tether to our own for this weapon? Our world now bears the strain of how many additional realities in exchange for this hollow abomination?”
Vance’s mind swam at the thought of the infinite web that pulled on the Shotgun. “How much Fractaline did you sacrifice for this? Four hundred fragments?” He paused, aghast. “More?”
“It’s got a trench barrel,” said the Titan helpfully.
“Remove yourself from my sanctum,” Vance said, placing the Shotgun down like a dead animal. “You have accelerated the end of all things, and I must update my prophecies accordingly.”
The music rang clear and true. Brother Vance listened, his face a paroxysm of glory.
“It repeats,” he whispered to himself and the young Warlock who was bent over the Infinite Forge, diligently crafting weapons from another age.
She listened politely, but heard nothing. She went back to her task.
“Why do none pity the phoenix?”
The Warlock looked up, startled. Vance was across from her, though she had not noticed his approach. His question came with no preamble, as if the two had been in the midst of a conversation.
“I’m sorry?” offered the Warlock.
“Endless rebirth, true, but each matched by a fiery death,” Vance said. “No sooner does it clean the ash from its feathers does it fall, again, to flame.”
The blind man turned and bathed his face in the glowing sunlight that streamed into his sanctum.
“And none speak of its song.”
The Warlock thanked Vance for the use of his forge and stood to leave.
“You are more than welcome,” he said without turning his head, though his vacant smile had grown kind. He gestured toward the tomes and scrolls on his desk.
“Help yourself to a prophecy, friend,” he said. “I believe I have finally finished my studies.”
After the Guardian left his sanctum for the last time, Brother Vance collected his few belongings and stepped onto the scorching surface of Mercury. He found the entrance to the Infinite Forest easily, as though he had practiced the journey endlessly in his mind, because he had.
This time, he went through.
The Forest roared. He was struck by the dizzying void of it. The echoes made no sense. He took his first step into the hallowed place and fell to his knees vomiting.
He struggled with his pack as a tempest beat on his eardrums. He withdrew his Infinite Simulacrum, impossibly small in this immense space, and with trembling fingers synchronized it to the frequency of the crack in the Forest. It ticked like a metronome and then…
Silence. The Forest was sealed.
Tentatively, Vance felt his way across the enormous stone he stood on. At the same time, he skipped effortlessly from the stone as if he had done so countless times before. At the same time, he soared. He was moving in every direction—falling, laughing, singing—down every path, into every reality, spreading his message of hope.
And the original, the true Vance, felt his infinite parallels erupt from him. He felt them bear him up as they passed. Thank you, he said wordlessly, unable to breathe from joy, and felt a hundred thousand touches of reassurance. He found he was weeping.
There, in the swirl of his golden echoes, Brother Vance lifted his voice and began his song:
“Some hope for—”
His own voice answered him from behind. “The future,” it continued.
Vance leapt toward it. He recognized the feel of his own cloak, and his hands found its throat. Its form twisted, turning cold and sharp beneath his hands.
It threw Vance on his back, but he held on. He pushed his hands up the thing’s face, under its blindfold, and dug in with his thumbs.
It howled. How unfortunate, Vance thought to himself behind his wide smile, that you still have eyes.