The tower was splashed in bright sunlight that fateful afternoon. I say fateful, because it was that afternoon, after listening to the Speaker, that I finally knew my path. I haven't wavered from that path since then, but enough of that, I first need to tell you of the Speaker. Well, no, let me take this in order. First I went to the gunsmith. Banshee, what a name and what a character. I found out later that the banshee was a legend from ancient earth, a ghost with a terrifying voice and otherworldly power. Somehow the Hive Wizards come to mind when I think of them, but that is a tangent I will follow some other time. Banshee's voice grated like that of someone who had smoked cigarettes for thirty years. To me that seems funny more now than ever - Banshee is an Exo, and noone has smoked, really smoked, in a few hundred years. And of course, I shouldn't have any idea how a smoker's voice should sound, yet somehow, somehow, it was all too familiar. Memories, an...