A Guardian's Chronicles: Taming the Season of the Witch Trials

Guardian-17 wasn't one to complain—much. But when the sixth weekly challenge slate dropped onto his datapad, he let out a sigh that could've chilled a Hive Wizard's heart. The Season of the Witch had been generous with its XP rewards, sure, but some of these tasks felt like they'd been cooked up by a bored Savathûn herself. Still, Bright Dust wasn't going to earn itself, and that new armor ornament wouldn't unlock without a fight.

He cracked his knuckles, loaded into orbit, and set his Ghost to scan the checklist. Acolyte's Ascent VI glowed at the top, a simple enough start. "Complete Week 6 of 'The Bladed Path' quest," he read aloud. His Ghost chimed, "You know, they could've just called it 'go blow up a Lost Sector with your fanciest element.'" The Guardian snorted. "Where's the poetry in that?"

He dove into the Throne World, following the quest marker to a Lost Sector crawling with Hive. The air shimmered with arcane energy. He'd chosen Solar alignment for this run, letting his fusion rifle's incandescent bursts scar the runes hidden in the dark. Each flare of fire felt personal, as if the weapon itself was cackling at the Hive's confusion. The final alignment unlocked with a satisfying hum, and his Major Arcana card blinked into existence. One down.

Luminary III waited next, demanding 300 kills with Light-based damage. "Arc, Void, or Solar—pick your poison," the Ghost said, already scanning for dense enemy clusters. Guardian-17 grinned, dusting off a Solar build he'd nicknamed 'The Scorchelor.' Enemies afflicted with scorch would count double, so he headed to Altars of Sorrow, Incandescent shotgun in hand. The weapon whispered with every kill, hungry for more. By the time the waves ended, the challenge was practically done. "Honestly," the Ghost remarked, "I think the Hive are getting tired of being set on fire." "They'll get used to it," the Guardian replied.

Then came Sympathetic Magic, a challenge that asked him to match his subclass element to his final blows inside Savathûn's Spire. The spire's labyrinthine corridors provided plenty of targets, and he ran Solar once more, letting his auto rifle sing a fiery melody. A hundred enemies fell before he even noticed the time passing. The rhythm of combat became a meditation—shoot, reload, super, repeat—until the Ghost announced, "Done. And you didn't even break a sweat."

But the next task, Bone Breaker, made him pause. "Crush Lucent Hive Ghosts," he read. The API said 100. He stared at the number, then at his Ghost. "You've got to be kidding me. A hundred of these things?" He imagined himself chasing Ghosts across the Throne World for days. Then his Ghost clarified, "Actually, it's only ten. The API was… dramatic." The Guardian let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thank the Traveler for that."

He set course for Miasma, where a pair of Lucent Hive spawned right outside the Vow of the Disciple entrance. He'd kill them, crush their Ghosts with a decisive stomp, and reload the instance. The Ghosts let out a silent scream each time, their light extinguishing like a candle snuffed. It almost made him feel guilty. Almost.

Mod Collector was less bloody but required patience. The Acolyte's Staff artifact had twelve perks to unlock, and he was still a few shy. With his Ghost wearing a Blinding Light mod, he chased vendor bounties and mopped up other seasonal challenges. Every XP bar filled with the satisfaction of a slow-burning fuse. When the final perk unlocked, the artifact shimmered, as if thanking him.

Now, Trial By Firing Squad loomed. His gut tightened. The Trials of Osiris were no playground for the faint-hearted. He needed ten round wins, not games—mercy, for that. Without a regular fireteam, he flew solo, hugging his teammates like a lost puppy. His pulse rifle, a steady and reliable friend, helped him team-shoot. The first round victory came with a rush. Then a loss. Then another win. He kept his eyes glued to the radar, never pushing unless the situation begged for it. After a few matches, the challenge ticked over. He exhaled, feeling like he'd escaped a collapsing building.

The Calibrate Long Range and Heavy Hardware challenges he could pair together. He grabbed his Graviton Lance—a weapon that practically hummed with cosmic curiosity—and stepped into Vanguard Ops. Pulse rifle kills racked up as the weapon's chain explosions turned groups of enemies into void-tinged confetti. Meanwhile, for heavy weapon final blows, he switched to Thunderlord, the machine gun rumbling with each round. It was efficient, almost too efficient: double progress from machine guns meant 400 kills felt like 200. He'd park himself in a corner during the final phase of a strike and let the thunder roll.

When the last challenge popped, his Ghost displayed the final tally. Each completed task had fed into the next, like a well-oiled machine. He stared at the piles of Bright Dust, the XP bar nudging his Season Pass to a new level, and allowed himself a small smile. The Season of the Witch was halfway done, but Guardian-17 felt like he'd just begun to understand its magic.