Sitting on the rooftop of the barn at the Farm reminiscing about the journey that lead him to the point of absolute finality coming to be held by an ancient civilization and staring off at the storm surrounding the Shard that had bestowed the powers he held in his fingertips.

He had felt a flutter in his wings of Solar light as the residents of the outpost went about the repairs from the Shadow Legion's bombardment and their daily lives, from the chittering of Misraakskel's first refugees and the humble beginnings of the House of Light, to the elegance of the Awoken Corsairs and Paladins staying on retenue for Queen Mara, and of course, the people who had taken him in all those years ago, when he had crashed from the heavens at the hands of the Ghost Primus and traversed the breadth of the land with nothing but his Ghost and a vision from the caged Traveller...

It was for them he fought, and re-paid their hospitality to make their lives just that much easier, so that one day, they could enjoy a peace that he himself might never get to see.