Page 51 of The Last Guardian

That night, I tried to see if any words would appear if I held a candle on the other side of the paper; unfortunately, nothing came of it. I spent the entire night rereading the legible sentences.

For now, I could only hope that they would all be safe, and I had a glimmer of hope at the thought of being able to see Arthur soon.

THE FOUR FOLLOWING days were all the same.

Every morning, I was woken by a cheerful Nefeli, who brought me breakfast and did everything she could to make me feel comfortable. I was puzzled as to why she was so kind, but at least I wasn’t alone in my quarters. She’d spend a few minutes chatting, trying to lighten the mood with gossip about her crew and details about her ship. Each time, I let her talk. Once she ran out of words, I noticed a change in her expression, as if she was hoping for a response from me. But I had nothing to say; I was still quite confused about why she was being so pleasant to me.

As for the mark, it remained etched on my skin, and Zaidkiel was hardly around to answer my questions. Every day, I tried to find him—not because I wanted to be greeted by his company but because the mysteries around this mark were insufferable.

I could have asked Nefeli, but… I didn’t know why I felt more compelled to talk about it with Zaidkiel. The last time I had mentioned the mark to someone, that person had ended up biting me and drinking my blood. Since Zaidkiel already knew, it was better to keep it quiet from others.

After breakfast, I joined Dax and his soldiers, watching them practice hand-to-hand combat, sword-wielding, and other weapons. Tomorrow, I would be able to start practice, now that my leg no longer hurt.

Each afternoon, I continued my lessons on Keraneeth history with Arystan. Today’s lesson delved into the religion of Keraneeth and how Perygan had lost its cults dedicated to the Ten Gods when the High Mages came to power.

As I looked at the large volume on the history of religion, I asked Arystan, “How did they manage to erase eight deities?”

Arystan coughed, running his wrinkled fingers through his beard. “The Wheel—the sacred emblem of the Ten.” His fingers left his beard to flip the yellow pages of the volume and stopped at the end. The page revealed a fresco-like image of a wheel composed of ten circles, each marked with a different element, representing the interconnected orders and cycles of the world.

“The Great Council decided to erase the gods linked to the species who had been banished to stay on the other side of the border. They kept only the ones who had a history with the Humans and fabricated a new religion with the Two Bound Gods.” Arystan’s finger halted at the first circle, the one at the top of the wheel, representing the dawn. “Yneïs—the Goddess of Dawn. And Selth—the God of Gods.” His finger paused at the second image, showing people smiling, holding hands. “Selth is the one who crafted Humans.”

I furrowed my brow, examining the wheel and its ten circles. “Why are Yneïs and Selth’s circles bigger than the rest?”

“They are the beginning of the world,” Arystan answered, before moving his finger to the next circle—the one filled with shadows. He continued, “Nockt, the God of Darkness, gave his power, known as obsidian, to the Evarim. Thanks to him, they can control and use shadows as they see fit.”

Evarim could control shadows—darkness.

“The Goddess of Destiny,” Arystan said, indicating the circle of glistening silver stars. “Atheia. She hasn’t bestowed any power on species but rather coordinated the elements of the world by binding the fates of every living being to the stars.”

Arystan’s finger moved to the next circle, which depicted a blazing sun. “The Sun God, Helio. He bestowed his power on the Surani—the general’s people, the warriors of the sun.” Arystan’s azure eyes met mine. He lifted his finger to his forehead. “You can recognize them with their carved sun in the middle of their brow.”

My eyes widened. The carving on Dax’s forehead branded him as Surani.

“These people carve infants’ foreheads?” I couldn’t conceal the shock in my voice.

A warm chuckle escaped Arystan as he shook his head. “No, they are born with the mark.” Then he continued, “The Surani can harness their power through their mark—sunfire.”

Arystan once again placed his hand on the page, ready to point to the next symbol, which was a glimmering crescent moon. “The Moon Goddess, Nuxei. Thanks to her, the Noxari can summon moonshade. You can recognize them from the crescent moon carved in their forehead—like the Surani. These two people are interconnected, created to conceive the world’s best solar and lunar warriors.”

The next circle showed the sea with giant tentacles emerging from it. “Then the Seas’ Goddess, Rahn, creator of all the abyss creatures and monsters. The pirates believe that Rahn is the sea itself, and they make offerings and prayers in the middle of the seas, even those from Perygan.”

Then Arystan continued, “Ora, the Storms’ Goddess, created the sky people—the Oralen and the Drawraki.” The circle depicted the sky and wings—one feathered, one leathered.

The next circle contained orange flames. “Zhaer,” Arystan added, “the Fire Goddess, created sorcery, witchcraft, and the Zurahki—Wizards and Mages.”

Arystan took a deep breath before pointing at the last circle, which represented a beautiful tree with white flowers on its branches. “And Gaïa, creator of the Elves, embodied their link to nature—the Blessed Goddess. She bestowed erathian power on the Elves.”

My eyes scrutinized the fresco—the beautiful wheel of life that thirty powerful men had shattered for victory. Arystan’s hand brushed the page, and a low hum filled my ears. The air bent where his fingers passed, projecting translucent waves onto the page like ripples on water. My eyes followed his every move. The image curved—shifted—turning each circle, bringing the elements to life.

The first circle moved the kaleidoscope of hues that bathed the world, shifting into a beam of light, followed by the little people holding hands, turning their faces to look at the dawn.

I sucked in a quick breath, my hand covering my mouth in surprise at the beauty that unfolded before my eyes.

The images kept moving; the people’s gazes turned to the circle on their right, where the stars sparkled like silver points in the night, falling stars illuminating the moving darkness in the next circle. Then, on the next one, a sun burned brighter than any light, meeting its lover in a place where the crescent moon was shimmering in peace, followed by the raging waves. The tentacles moved in unison; I could swear that tiny salty drops had fallen onto my skin. Lightning flashed in the next circle, powerful thunderclaps resounding around us—the wings flew with the wind, followed by the untamed flames, which danced with smoke and ashes—their warmth emanating from the fresco. In the last one, the tree moved. Its roots grew in the soil, anchoring itself to the ground. Its small white flowers bloomed on the branches, reaching for the sky. Little petals fell on the yellow page of the book.

Magic.

“It’s—” My words trailed off on my tongue as my gaze remained fixed on the moving images.