Page 161 of The Last Guardian

“I—” Arthur murmured, searching for the right words. “Fuck, I’m so sorry you got caught up in all this.”

“I chose to get involved,” I confessed, looking him straight in the eyes, letting him see the truth in my words. “I’m glad to be here, to have seen it, Arthur. You can’t protect us from this; you have to accept it. You have to trust us.”

Arthur remained silent as my words sank in. Then he said, “Watching you wither away for years… You can’t imagine how hard it was to see you like that and not be able to help you.”

With a deep breath, I said, “We were all struggling.”

Arthur smiled, his eyes softening.

Arthur and I had so much to talk about—so much to clear between us. But today wasn’t the moment to catch up, to try to explain or fight.

I did not have the strength, so instead I changed the subject. “So, that violent wind during the attack—was that you?”

Arthur chuckled softly and nodded.

“Impressive,” I replied, raising my brow. Then I asked, “But where is your Guardian? Do you not need him near you to reach for the power?”

“No.” Arthur shook his head. “I can use the power even from a distance with him. I need to use it efficiently, because if I’m drained, I can’t regenerate power away from him.”

“But where is your Guardian?” I asked again.

Arthur nervously ran a hand through his hair. My gaze fell on his arm, where his sleeve ended. Under his armpit, a tattoo was etched into his skin, forming⁠—

My heart skipped a beat as I blinked. The same familiar patterns as my mark—inked in his flesh.

“Why do you…?” I stuttered, but the door burst open as Solasta entered with her supplies.

“I’m so sorry,” Solasta said, wincing, her satchel in hand. “I came to check on your wounds.” She glanced between us and added, “I can come back later…”

Arthur stood up, squeezing his hand on my shoulder. “No need. I am needed elsewhere for a meeting with the commander.” He looked down at me and kissed my cheek. “Rest, sister.”

And with a wink, Arthur exited the room.

But as the rest of the afternoon went on, I kept thinking about what I had seen on my brother’s skin.

THE SILVER RAYS of the moonlight danced with the waves, transforming the blue into countless shades.

I tried to savor the moment, taking in the view, the salty air, and the gentle rocking of the boat.

For a moment, my mind wandered to the Dead Nymphs.

“There it is,” one of the Dead Nymphs had said.

They were looking for something on the ship. This visceral need to know more sat inside my chest, alongside the need to help. The need to protect my family was like an anchor deep within my soul.

I was torn between the one I wanted to be and the one I’d learned to be.

My thoughts wandered to my mother.

A sob escaped my throat, and my hands shook as they touched my chest, my heart trying to warm it and remember each person, each moment, and every mistake.

Some of the people on this ship had lived for centuries, experiencing terrible, unimaginable things. Yet they still smiled; they still laughed. Even when their own power was eating them alive, their own pasts.

How did they ever find the strength to see the good? To still have hope?

Even my twenty-three years seemed like an eternity—especially the last five years, during which I had had to say goodbye to people I couldn’t imagine leaving behind.

It was at such moments, when my mind could not perceive anything, that I missed her the most. My dearest mother. I longed for her gentle smile, her kindness, and her wisdom, how her mere presence had always soothed my aching heart. Without her, existence was like an endless series of nightmares.