Page 52 of The Last Guardian

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Arystan continued, his fingers playing with the air, as if they were charming it.

“How exactly does your power work?” I asked gently.

Arystan’s eyes met mine at last. “The Wizard’s magic is channeled by the marking on our right hand. We study spells, carving them into our flesh to activate the magic in our blood with the air.”

He turned his hand, showing his palm and fingers covered with so many different marks that I couldn’t even count. One stood out at the base of the thumb, glowing slightly crimson.

“Imajo viva,” Arystan murmured. “It’s the rune I used to move the wheel.”

The scarlet hue of his rune reminded me of Haedeon’s eyes for a moment.

“You said Zhaer created the Wizards, Witches, and Mages, and they all come from Zurah,” I said carefully. “Did the High Mages too?”

Arystan offered me a simple nod, his eyes darkening at the mention of the High Mages.

“Did you know them?” I blurred out, curious, “Before they controlled Perygan?”

Arystan’s eyes closed for a moment, and his face became impassive. “Do you know how Mages and Wizards were organized in Perygan?” I shook my head, and Arystan continued, “Before the rise of the Great Council and its High Mages, every king’s inner council had a Mage and a Wizard among its members—in Perygan as well as in Keraneeth. The Wizard helped with planning war spells, diplomacy, and protections, much like political advisors. The Mages were there to react to the slightest danger. Their magic is raw and flexible; they don’t need runes—they already have power in their palms. They can channel far more magic than we can, but they can also drown in their own power.” Arystan breathed heavily and added, “Over a thousand years ago, I was a member of the inner council of the kingdom of Boren, and by my side was the Mage Melionë.” Arystan’s gaze softened for a moment, and I wondered who this Melionë really was to him. The name was familiar, but I couldn’t recall where I’d heard it before.

“He was powerful, even back then; it was impressive. For years, we advised the king, meeting with other small councils from Perygan and Keraneeth. One day, a new apprentice arrived at Vallen’s small council; he was young and brimming with ideas for expanding the continent. It was refreshing, and Melionë joined this new mage. His name is now well known in your kingdom. You know it all too well, unfortunately.” Arystan’s gaze fell on the two tiny holes in my neck, which had almost disappeared.

Haedeon.

“Melionë is one of the High Mages,” I recalled at last. Although I had never met the other High Mages, I had learned their names many years ago.

Arystan smiled gently, but pain flashed in his eyes. “Haedeon helped him learn how to expand his power to a better capacity by reaching for power through the ground.”

“So their power came from Zhaer? Do they still have it?”

“No, dear one,” Arystan said. “Nature is a balance; it can give, but it can also take back everything that belongs to it. The moment the High Mages drained the ground, their natural gifts disappeared.”

“Because they took the power from the ground,” I said, touching the necklace around my neck. “Chaos is the opposite of nature.”

Arystan’s lips curved slightly, forming a gentle smile. “There is a lesson you must learn, dear one: the world is balance itself. It constantly oscillates between its opposites: darkness and light, chaos and nature, the moon and the sun, water and fire. Since the dawn of time, the world’s rulers—kings, emperors, priests, or High Mages—all aspired to the same thing: to make us believe in peace, a peace that can only exist by resisting on one side and igniting the other.” Arystan stopped, and his eyes softened as they met mine. He then whispered, “But the truth is more subtle and far more enduring: peace is not found in light nor in darkness, but in the acceptance that neither side will ever prevail.”

ZAIDKIEL WAS NOWHERE to be found. Since I had arrived, I had spent every evening locked up in my room with no wish to talk to anyone. Every time, my dinner was brought to me by Solasta, who checked my wounds before bed.

But this evening, I decided to search for the commander after a week without a trace. Maybe he had choked himself with his sassy jokes at last—it would be a mercy not to have to endure his presence anymore.

Still, the jerk had offered me help in exchange for helping him with his quest, and I was unaware of what it was about or how he would help me find my memories—but since he needed guidance on something, I would probably learn more once we’d arrived in Shavaar. But there was still the matter of the mark that was bothering me a lot. It didn’t hurt, but each time I looked at it, my eyes fell on the holes where Haedeon’s nails had dug and sucked my blood.

The wood creaked beneath my feet, the harsh smell of seaweed and salt filling the air as I walked along the main deck, my eyes searching for the commander’s face. Echoes of waves splashing against the hull, clinking metal, flapping sails, and shouted laughter resonated throughout the deck. Most of the crew’s faces were sunburned by the reflection of the sun on the water after long days of labor—still, every one of them looked happy. In their element. I passed by one of the little narrow passages leading to another deck, the ground rolling with the sea.

After more than ten days on the ship, my body had become accustomed to the permanent movement of the sea. The nausea had finally disappeared, along with the feeling of lightheadedness.

On another deck, some crewmen were gathered around a barrel, playing a dice game, laughing. On the other side, some were uncorking bottles of what I thought was rum, smelling each one by one.

Dorian would absolutely love this place, and Lyra too—she would see it as the kind of adventure she had always dreamed of having.

Stars, Lyra! She must be worried sick. A deep gut feeling told me Arthur and Dorian would take care of her, but I had to be sure someone looked after her. I had to let her know I was still alive. Zaidkiel had sent a letter to my brother to warn him about where I was; I could ask him to do it again once we had docked in Shavaar, right?

“Lookin’ fer something?” a scratchy voice drawled the words as I turned to face a dark-skinned man with short black hair and bright brown eyes.

“Uh…” I looked around, trying to spot the man I was actually searching for, but he was still nowhere to be found. “Can you indicate to me where the commander is, please?”

Another man arrived, punching the first one in the shoulder before running his hands through his curly blond hair. “Bennett, we aren’t supposed to speak to the princess,” the blond man said with a big smile.

“I know,” Bennett replied, turning his gaze to the other man, “but she’s lost, Sam.”