Page 89 of The Last Guardian

That night, it was him. It was Zaidkiel who saved me.

No words passed through my mind—I just stared. Completely struck by him.

The silence stretched with each second, each moment. His eyes never left mine.

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?” My voice was nothing more than a whisper.

He swallowed hard. “Because I should have slit his fucking throat.” In a swift moment, he got up from his chair, walking to the other side of the little room. “And now—now I can’t even look at myself in the mirror because I didn’t do it.”

Zaidkiel closed his eyes, his shoulders tensed as his fingers curled at his sides, trying to calm his anger. Not only at Nevan but also at himself.

How could he feel guilty about this? When he was the one who had saved me?

Zaidkiel was the one who had stopped Nevan from erasing that memory. That precise moment… It was then that everything changed.

With a snarl on his face, he added, “Fuck, I saw you and—” He stopped, restraining himself from saying something else.

My shaking breath moved my chest unevenly. It didn’t make sense—couldn’t make sense. In saving me, he could have risked his identity being discovered; Haedeon and my father could have seen him that night.

“Why—” My voice trembled. I bit my lower lip to calm the overwhelming thought—the one of being worth saving. Being worth seeing. It terrified me. “Why did you take that risk?” I stared at him, the devastation on his beautiful face as I said at last, “For me?”

Zaidkiel lifted his eyes to mine again, the desperation shattering my heart. At this moment, the world could have burned around us, and all I would have been able to see was him. Only him.

His eyes bore into mine, searching deep within my soul as he whispered, “You’re worth every risk, Alyana.”

I blinked, warmth spread to my chest as a tear beaded on my cheek. I didn’t know what to do with it—the care, the protection, the quiet proof that I mattered. Even when he knew nothing about me, I mattered.

Zaidkiel pushed himself off the wall, avoiding my gaze. “We have a long day tomorrow.” He turned his back, his fist curling around the knob as he opened it. But then he stopped. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he added, “Get some rest, Princess.”

He left. The door shut behind him.

His words still hung in the air, his presence lingering a moment with them.

With a hand on my heart, a warmth spread inside, as I felt it pound against my chest, hard and fast.

And the hollow inside my soul began to fill again.

“IS THIS WHERE he lives?” I whispered, my voice lost in the wind, my braid whirling in the air.

Zaidkiel dismounted his steed, his jaw rigid as he scrutinized the tiny house. For hours, we had traversed hills and mountains, with the world blurring past us in shades of gray, green, and gold.

As the sun disappeared behind a veil of dark clouds, only a misty hill stood before us, and in the middle was the dark house waiting for us. The air had cooled, and a fresh, damp smell filled my nostrils. The trees surrounding us bent and twisted, their knotted branches reaching towards the leaden sky.

“Yes, it’s there,” Zaidkiel replied flatly.

My voice quivered as I asked, “Have you been here before?”

“Once,” he said, his gaze still on the place, “but that was a different time. When the land was more vibrant. More alive.”

Zaidkiel led the way, and I followed closely behind, taking the narrow path that led to the small house. His hand curled in a fist as he knocked on the old, creaking door. Once. Twice.

The whirling wind whistled like a warning around the dark house. When no one answered the door, Zaidkiel readied himself to force his way inside. But the door abruptly flew open, propelled by the wind.

“Seven Hells,” I gasped, but Zaidkiel silenced me with a simple “shh,” one finger on his lips.

He took a step forward, his black boots pushing slowly on the floor, creaking beneath his feet, curling his fingers in the air for me to follow. The house’s inside was far darker than the outside. Only a few old, dark pieces of furniture, along with opened books, scrolls, and newspapers scattered on the floor, adorned the room.

Ugh. The smell was repulsive.