I title this short story "The Phoenix City." A storm of dust covered the barren landscape of Mars as a lone figure stood on top of a dune, his cloak flapping violently in the gale. For three days the Warlock had searched blindly through the red waste, guided only by the fading tracks of the Fallen. And for three days, he had found nothing but desert. But now something felt different. An unexplainable feeling of hope welled up within him. This had to be the place. The Warlock felt the power of the Traveler coursing through him, knowing that if he did not succeed now, he would die alone in the wilderness. It was his final chance. The Warlock closed his eyes. [i]Be brave.[/i] He released. With a deafening roar, the power of the Traveler erupted across the landscape, cutting through the storm and driving the sands away. Just as quickly, peace returned. A dazzling brightness drew the Warlock’s gaze. The Buried City stood before him, newly arisen after being covered by the sands of time. The twisted, ruined steel gleamed in the sunlight. The city once held millions of lives before becoming a tomb. Now, lost over hundreds of years, it was reborn. A testament to the will of humanity. The Warlock collapsed to his knee. He had sacrificed everything to find the city. This would be his final act. An outstretched hand suddenly came into view. A Titan, followed by a dozen others waiting for the Warlock’s signal, had arrived. In silence, the Titan pulled the Warlock to his feet. A Fallen scream from the ruins shattered the calm. The Titan nodded as the Guardians readied their weapons. No words needed to be spoken. Together, they would not fail. As brothers, they would reclaim the city. For humanity. For all that they had lost. For hope.