Page 81 of The Last Guardian

I saw the general shirtless more than clothed during our training. Unless it was on his legs, I was sure he didn’t have it.

Zaidkiel shook his head. “No, it wasn’t from that time.” He took a deep breath and added, “It was far later.”

I frowned, observing the tattoo, the ink playing on his veins. “Why did you get it in prison?”

“They put it on me—to brand me.” Zaidkiel glanced at me, his face sharp. My heart pounded as he said in a low tone, “As proof I will always be theirs.”

I went still, mortification weighed heavily on my face. “Who put this on you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Zaidkiel declared in a voice drained of all warmth, his emerald eyes as cold as steel. “They already paid the price.”

Silence fell for a few moments; his words weighed on me. Zaidkiel’s eyes drifted to the road, his neck tensing with each step of the steed beneath him, his nostrils flared.

Someone had branded him, with the same mark etched on my wrist. I wanted to ask what happened to him, to push for answers. But Zaidkiel’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. His eyes lost their spark, as if he were digging back into old, dark memories, so I bit my tongue.

For a moment, the air thickened with unspoken words; only the sand rising in a fine mist whispered around us. Amber light burst across the sky as the sun slipped behind the golden highlands.

“How do you like Keraneeth so far?” Zaidkiel’s voice startled me, breaking the silence at last.

I blinked, surprised by his attempt to revive the conversation. “I like it. Everything seems so…” I stopped for a moment, taking in the landscapes: the sun’s vibrancy reflecting on the mountains, the air so rich it tasted almost sweet. “Alive.” Turning my eyes to him, Zaidkiel’s gaze softened for a moment, and I whispered, “I love the closeness of the stars at night here. They seem to hide in Perygan.”

Zaidkiel nodded. “Magic has a way of amplifying everything. The colors, the scents, the sight. But with magic gone, Perygan no longer feels as alive.”

His words died in my ears, bringing me back to the harsh reality of the world. Last night, life had seemed so simple, like a glimpse of the possibility of peace. But a real threat loomed over the world, far greater than anything Haedeon, Nevan, or Father had ever done to me. A threat far more dangerous than my lost memories.

“Who is Kraktos exactly?” I asked, my voice carrying across the golden hills.

Zaidkiel glanced away for a moment, his jaw clenching. “Kraktos was one of the most powerful Oralys of all time,” he explained, his voice dark and low. “He had been cast aside by the Celestium—the seat of the Oralys—because of his tendency to answer too often to the gods’ demands. Many people fear him because of that.”

“Why?” I asked. “How is he frightening?”

“Kraktos lost himself in the gods’ demands, and became something between life and death,” Zaidkiel said, glancing at me. “The Oralys must avoid using it too much, or they will go mad. Now, Kraktos is quite… cryptic.”

“Why are we going to see him if he’s not as trustworthy as the others?” I frowned.

“Because Kraktos knows things he’ll willingly tell you as a human—things the Celestium try to hide. If they saw you here, they’d try to kill you.” He stopped for a moment, letting out a breath. Then Zaidkiel added, “And I think he’s more trustworthy than any other.”

My pulse raced, fear creeping in.“But why would they kill me? What do they have against Humans?”

Zaidkiel’s jaw tightened. He took a deep breath, “The Celestium fear the High Mages and prefer to ignore their threats.”

“So the Oralys don’t know what you’re looking for, for preventing the spread of chaos? They don’t know about the Last Guardian?”

“They know of its existence,” Zaidkiel replied. “They simply don’t know we’re searching for it.”

A silence filled the air between us, the swirling wind clapping in my ears, whirling my braid. But I didn’t let it linger as I asked, “Do you know what the Last Guardian is exactly? What kind of power does it wield?”

The hooves clapped steadily on the stones when the road closed into a narrow street.

“The only thing I can say for certainty is that the Last Guardian is our only hope,” Zaidkiel murmured, his voice carried away by the wind. His eyes lingered on mine, a sharp truth crossing his eyes. “If we don’t find it soon, it’s not only chaos we will face—it’s death itself.”

THE COBBLESTONE STREET reminded me of the Old Town back in Lorath, but cleaner and quieter.

The valley surrounding the street offered a breathtaking view of the colorful sky as the sun sank on the horizon.

Zaidkiel dismounted his horse in a swift motion, his black boots clattering on the cobblestones. The black sword at his back, along with his dark attire, caught the locals’ attention.

“We halt here for the night,” Zaidkiel said in a whisper, helping me dismount my own horse. His hands grip my hips, easing my descent. “We’re going to attempt to reach your Anchor in the morning, before leaving to meet Kraktos.”