Page 65 of The Last Guardian

The Mirror of the Mind, Arystan had said.

His voice was coming from far away, like an echo in my bones, but—I didn’t have any bones. His voice filled my soul like a song written in the layers of the stars.

Intimate. Too intimate.

You can speak in your head. Listen to my voice; follow the vibration. That’s how you can reach me.

So I listened to his voice, my body—what remained of it—followed him. It felt like chasing smoke, ashes, and dark flames. The smoldering embers led me even deeper, where I could reach him.

But I couldn’t find the way. Couldn’t speak.

Let’s concentrate on the Anchor for now, Zaidkiel said softly. Focus on your wildest desire. It’s a place where you wish to rest. Your soul knows the way already; you just need to find the right door.

I wanted to argue because the Void was completely dark. No doors. No windows. Nothing but emptiness.

Still, the embers danced, flaming through the dark like a calling, where he too resided in the Void. If I could see him, I could find a color, a glimmer of light, that could lead me to the Anchor. I traced the Void with what was left of my eyes and⁠—

A light, flaring behind the darkness in a soft hue—waiting for me. Its pull drew me deeper, closer, and without any effort, it burst.

A WAVE OF so much love, adoration, kindness, and hope emerged in my being.

A white room of light welcomed me, where familiar faces waited for me—faces of people I loved so much. Aurora, Romy, Dorian, Arthur, Lyra, and another glow, a piece of hope, of home.

Mother. Her beautiful face radiated such warmth. Real—she looked so real.

With careful, slow steps, I approached her, taking in every detail. Her long, chocolate-brown hair flowed behind her. Her beautiful smile lit up her gentle brown eyes, the same eyes my brothers shared with her. The freckles on her nose and her soft, rosy skin.

Was she here? Alive?

The desire to speak, to touch her, coursed through me. Mother held out her hands, her soft, warm skin waiting to feel mine too, and I took it, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine as I squeezed my fingers around hers.

It felt familiar, so familiar. Why? Like I had already lived this…

No.

When my skin touched hers, it was already too late. Darkness enveloped the room at the same instant her hand gripped mine, her nails digging into my skin as she screamed.

No. No. No. My nightmare.

Other faces emerged… and a voice, a blur of voices, was talking, echoing with her scream.

“It’s all your fault,” the voice said. “You killed her. You made her suffer so much, so much pain, so much screaming, and too much blood.”

I tried to release her. It was me who was hurting her. But she never let me go; she held on tighter, screamed louder. Her brown eyes shone, darkened, and I saw the terror settle in her.

I screamed.

I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.

I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.

The ground shook beneath us, and a force propelled me, urging me to get out. A voice.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

This isn’t real, the voice said Don’t let your mind lie to you. None of this is true.

But I was home—Mother was here. My brothers, my sisters, and Lyra were here. If my home wasn’t with them, where was it?