Page 7 of The Last Guardian

Where, where, where? I wanted to ask.

Home.

Home. What a strange word. Was there still a home for me to find? I wasn’t sure.

The white room shifted again, turning so quickly I couldn’t follow.

Things took form before me. The shadows appeared. But I couldn’t see. The room turned and turned, nausea rising in my throat. My head buzzed. Until everything stopped.

Until…

“Come, my sweet,” said a female voice. Mother.

I turned, her beautiful face forming before me. How? Was she real?

A crown sat on her head, the gold melted slightly, beading on her temple like tears. I took one step, then another, and another.

My hopes grew stronger with each one; the longing to hold her close consumed me, to see everything that made her: her soft, rosy skin, her shining brown eyes, her warm smile. My steps stopped when I stood before her, and she held out her hands to me. I took them, feeling her warm skin against mine.

Alive! She was alive.

Tears flowed down my cheeks when I squeezed her hands.

Real.

But the room shifted, darkened. Blurred faces emerged behind her. Who were they? A piercing scream rang in my ears. A scream so wild and loud, it shook the soil to its roots. The sound reminded me of something. But what? When had I heard this sound? A scream of agony, something that could shatter the depths of the world. And it came from… Mother.

“Through life, through death, we shall all love.” Her voice echoed in the back of my mind. “Through stars and embers, we all shall fall.”

Her hands tightened around mine as she wailed and sobbed and screamed.

“It’s your fault,” another voice, cold and dark, said. “You killed her.”

No. No. I didn’t do it!

I tried to let go, to release her hand, but she squeezed harder; the scream grew louder, like I was the one hurting her. Fear crossed her face, like death itself was claiming her. A scream echoed in my throat—united with her cries. And the crown…

Seven Hells, the crown melted on her skull, trying to consume her from within.

“You ruin everything, every single thing you touch,” the voice said. “Everything you touch dies in your hands.”

No.

No.

I tried hard to pull my hand away, but she was too strong, her nails digging deep into my skin. Did I kill her? Was it my fault she was drowning in gold?

My brothers and sisters stood by, watching our mother struggle, but none of them lifted a finger to help us. Nothing broke the silence except for her desperate cries and my own.

A black movement caught my attention, and we fell on the ground together; her limp body died in my hands. Was this how she had died?

The room had changed again, and we were back in the dark cave. A young girl emerged from the darkness and walked toward us.

I cradled my mother’s face, her mouth bleeding. I broke into sobs and shouts, desperate to keep her with me a little longer, but her chest remained still.

Dead. She was dead.

The tiny girl came closer, her large green-hazel eyes fixed on mine, filled with… Was it regret? Sorrow? Unsuitable sentiments for such a young child’s eyes. Her long, slightly wavy, brown hair brushed my forearm when she placed her small hands on my cheeks.