Page 145 of The Last Guardian

I shook my head, a shudder running through me, letting my tears fall freely this time. I tried to wipe them, but they kept coming. I rolled my shoulders in a soft attempt to shake off the weight pressing down on me.

“I—I couldn’t burden you with this,” I whispered, my voice cracking. My chest tightened like I was swallowing glass, and every word was a small, painful effort. “Father would have found a way to blame me and…” I stopped, swallowing the words, tears sliding down my cheeks.

I looked at Arthur, hesitating, my throat tight. “Why—why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

My hands twisted together, knuckles white, as if gripping something could hold me.

“I wanted to help you,” Arthur said. A hard swallow crossed his throat. “I wanted to see my little sister again, who loves laughing and dancing. Who loves life. The one who smiled at the rain and cried when the sun shone too brightly.”

Gleaming tears fell on his cheeks, and I shattered, the sobs rising in my chest.

Arthur stood, taking careful steps in my direction, and added with a smile, “The one who was far too happy when she could eat chocolate, and who would sell all our gold to have enough time to read.” He took a deep breath as he stopped in front of me, his eyes staring. “So I tried to find help. To find a solution.”

His eyes darkened as his throat bobbed. “I already had suspicions concerning the High Mages—I had already been corresponding with Arystan for a few months when he told me about what was happening in Myrh. What the—” Arthur swallowed. “What the Southern Legion was trying to save.” His fist clenched at his side. “I joined them soon after.”

My eyes widened. “For wh⁠—”

Arthur interrupted me. “I wanted to know what happened to Mother—to you. It wasn’t logical. Mother was loved by all,” Arthur said. “Why would someone kill her? It was driving me mad…” Arthur shook his head, and a wave of relief washed over me. “Once I learned everything about the Empire, I suspected they were probably the cause.”

I frowned and said, “It could have been the Order—they killed the Princess and Prince of Nazar.”

Arthur clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “It was not the Order’s doing.” Then he added, “I went to the exact spot where it happened, Alyana, and it reeked of magic.”

Dorian scoffed. “How could you know that?” Dorian narrowed his eyes at Arthur and added, “How do you know how magic feels?”

Arthur’s jaw tightened, hesitating for a second. The air sharpened, unspoken words hanging between us. He stared at Dorian at last. “I can feel the aura of magic with my own power.”

Dorian frowned, snorted. “What?” Dorian’s eyes widened as realization settled in. “You have a fucking Guardian? What—” Dorian trailed off, searching for words as Arthur lowered his gaze.

Arthur whispered at last, “Yes.”

“But—” Dorian stuttered. “How?”

Arthur took a deep breath, joining his hands together. “We have been searching for the Last Guardian for years now, in vain. But we have saved a lot of Guardians already,” he explained. “During one of the expeditions, Zaidkiel and I walked into a cemetery, mist swirling all around it. It was impossible to see.”

My heart thundered in my chest. “The cemetery from your dreams?”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “How do you know about that?”

“Eirlys mentioned it when—” I stopped. I was not going to share the dreams that had been haunting me. Instead, I said, “When they told me about you.”

If the dream Arthur had kept dreaming about helped him find his Guardian, would my dream come true? That cave—was I going to die in that cave?

Arthur sighed with exasperation. “Yes. It was the same cemetery,” he said, before continuing. “An enormous beast attacked me from nowhere—challenging me. The moment he was upon me and I forced my way out, a hot flow surged inside of me, bonding to my soul. His—our—power.”

Dorian snorted, disbelief crossing his features. “Are you freaking serious? Is that not supposed to be impossible?” Dorian narrowed his eyes. “Magic doesn’t exist on Perygan anymore. It’s been drained⁠—”

“They are magic. It doesn’t come from the soil, but from the Guardians themselves. We can use our power,” Arthur replied.

Shocked, Dorian looked at our older brother and said in a harsh tone, as if he couldn’t believe Arthur, “What kind of power are you wielding then?”

Arthur stayed silent for a moment, waiting for the disappointment in Dorian’s eyes to settle. With a hard swallow, he widened his palm and put it in front of us and⁠—

A tiny whirlwind spun inside—small, but it packed a punch—followed by a wave of strong wind that smashed into us, blowing our hair.

“Wind-weaving,” declared Arthur, closing his hand. “I can control it, create it, move exactly what I want through it. Some people can block out the attack if they learn to do it.”

“Fucking Hells,” Dorian muttered, fixing his hair in place. Then he yelled, “What the fuck, Arthur? How⁠—”