by JW Baccaro
“Not until I’ve seen you off.”
“You knew I had to leave, didn’t you?”
“Of course, you’re the earth’s Guardian and there is much yet to be accomplished.”
“What now for you?”
He gazed over at Minevara and smiled—or was it a grin? “Perhaps one day, I’ll settle down with a wife and family of my own, but for now my Nasharin spirit is still free, so I will wander the earth and continue to improve my skills, training in the arts of our people.”
“Your spirit will forever be free my friend,” Darshun replied. “I’m glad to have known you. Until we meet again.”
“Aye Darshun, until we meet again.” He nodded and they shook hands.
Then Darshun climbed upon Uriel. “You ready old friend?”
“It is ready, Guardian of earth.”
“All right, we’re going to have to get something straight. Since you now belong to me, please refer to yourself as ‘Uriel,’ and not ‘it.’ Understood?”
“It—Uriel understands,” he said.
“Good. Shall we be off?”
“We better. The little one grows impatient.”
“The—little one?”
“Aye, the little Gnome Avis. Former master hands her over to you and I. She’s living with us at the station.”
Darshun’s stomach turned. “Oh no.”
“Hide your shiny swords Windtros!” Minevara yelled up at him in laughter.
Uriel spread his wings and ascended into the sky.
Darshun looked below at the waving crowd and raised his hand in return. He locked eyes with Kelarin once more, smiled blissfully at her, and was gone—away with the Dragon, above and beyond the sheltering forest.
~~****~~
During the next three months, Nayland accompanied by Shadow, journeyed once again into Syngothra to visit both his father and Mirabel’s grave. After he had done so, and was about to leave, he by chance gazed to the sky and saw a figure dressed in white garments riding upon a red dragon, and that figure was Darshun, patrolling the heavens. They both saw one another and Nayland lifted his axe into the air as a greeting.
Darshun held out his sword in return, the weapons each capturing the sunlight. He flew into a thick layer of cloud and disappeared.
“When evil plagues its vile face upon the earth again,” Nayland vowed, “Gladly will I be there once more to fight by your side, Darshun my friend.”
PROLOGUE
A SPIRIT REBORN
Gazing at the dying coals of an early morning fire, its smoke drifting beyond the sheltering forest, vanishing in a blue winter sky, Talvenya’s heart remained severely troubled. For days, she’d neglected to eat or bathe. Just—casually sipping her canteen of water while a wool blanket lie around her, cloaking her crusted skin of sweat and dirt. Her tangled hair had grown well past the bottom of her feet, trailing the ground wherever she strolled. Occasionally, a tear would fall from her eye, sometimes freezing before striking the ground. She’d stare at the frozen particle for hours, thinking only five or six months ago—this was exactly the nature of her heart…Ice.
Lord Athanasius tried comforting her while she stayed in Ashhaven the majority of autumn. Many conversations they shared, often bringing the former Queen to weep. Then, sometimes, even after the long tears, the pain would ease, but for just a while, always returning the next morning—like she described it—a knife continuously stabbing in and out of her heart.
She remembered Athanasius’ words: “Forgiveness is stronger than vengeance; love more powerful than anger.”
She understood his meaning…What would it profit a poor soul drenched in sin, recognizing his or her faults, wishing for change, only to be put to the sword? What does it profit the earth when the ‘guilty’ now cleansed and able to bear good fruit, are executed because of some ancient law regarding a 'righteousness judgment?' No good—nothing.
Yes, she understood, her sins were forgiven her, that much Athanasius promised, but there was something else, something—more which Athanasius couldn’t heal—the regret in her heart. It ran too deep, too heavy; after all, it was not he who committed such dreadful crimes and horrors, but her! If only she could come face to face with her victims, place her heart at their feet, and unravel a sea of tears for them. Abidan may have forgiven her sins, but she needed forgiveness from those she’d personally destroyed. Ones who she personally obliterated—their lives and the lives of their loved ones, however many thousand, which obviously, will never happen. So…why go on living? Why not let the birds feast on her flesh? One less individual the world would need to make space for.
The dagger she placed into the fire the prior night was well beyond heated, its blade shining like an August sun. Gathering a bundle of snow into her palms, she dumped the icy elements over top of the handle, watching the lining steam rise with the smoke, listening to the sizzle of an extinguishing heat. Even though still warm, she grasped it, unraveling the dagger from the coals. She didn’t know how long she stared at it, the glowing blade, or why she had even placed it into the fire to begin with, before finally placing the edge at her cheek, and slowly singing herself. She felt the pain, the burning of her flesh, already beginning to blister. Then she switched to her other cheek, and did the same. "For every life I have taken, as many as I can remember, I shall scar myself as a reminder of the wickedness which rules my heart…"
"You never showed," spoke a voice of familiarity.
Hastily, she turned around, still clenching the dagger.
A gust of wind came, blowing away a cloak of snow resting upon an evergreen. As it passed, what she’d earlier mistaken for a part of the tree, twenty some feet high, was actually a figure stationed over top a couple of branches, leaning against the bark, arms crossed. Looking at her, he stepped forward, expanding his wings, and glided down to the ground.
Frightened, Talvenya stepped away, her hair tangled around her feet, and almost tripped into the fire.
The figure grabbed her arms and straightened her back up. “Do not be afraid,” he said with a smile.
Admittedly, the warm smile warmed her heart, at least a little. “Have yo—you come to judge me, Darshun?” she asked, eyes beginning to water.
Ignoring the question, he said again, “You never showed.”
Talvenya understood immediately what he meant, the celebration at Loreladia, for she too had been invited, but most certainly didn’t intend to show her face, not in public. “How could I? The majority of people attending, I am responsible for the murder of their friends and relatives—families! Surely, I am the last individual they would have wanted fellowship with.”
“You helped win the war too. If not for your healing touch, I would not be standing here right now, perhaps none of us.”
She squinted. “Please don’t repeat those words. Athanasius said the same thing.”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“I need not hear it again.”
Darshun stared at her, his gaze studying her every feature. Gently, he touched her face, trailing a finger alongside her blistered cheek.
She could not take her eyes off him and scarcely breathed because of his presence.
He wore a long white robe having two openings in the back specifically fitted for his wings. Everything else lay bare, even his feet. They rested into the snow, and the cold elements seemed to have no effect. His silver-white hair swayed in a breeze, and his icy blue eyes glistened. He looked beautiful, ‘carved by an Angel’ some might say, or Abidan himself. Though, it felt like more than that. He’d become holy. Pure, sacred and without stain—without sin, accompanied by an aura of blissful peace.
This pure essence only made her heart feel worse. With downcast eyes, she fell to her knees, sinking into the snow, and buried her face between his bare feet. Then, she wept. “I cannot stand it anymore, Darshun, I just can’t!” she cried. “The pain, it is too much to bear, to much to live with. I’ve committed so many crimes, so much wickedness.” She clenched
her fists and pounded the ground over and over, shifting her head back and forth like a madwoman. “It was never supposed to be like this!” she screamed. “I was never supposed to be like this. My life was ripped from my heart, torn to pieces by the Samaeltho! And yet, what they did to me—I became. I did not want to be hurt like that again, not by anyone, not ever! So, I became what I despised; it was all in their plan, the Dark’s plan. I became darkness, Darshun, a mistress of death, a dominatrix of destruction, showing no mercy to anything, no man, no woman, nor even the critters of this world. Often…”—she breathed in deeply, swallowing tears—“often crushing to death any form of life in my path, grinding it into the ground beneath my feet.”
He remained silent and with no discernable expression on his features as she paused.
She peered up to him, meeting his eyes. “And the children I slain? The pleasure I took in destroying those little lives? The annihilation I brought to cities, to towns? To this world! To—you?” She lowered her face. “Abaddon was right. Even now, I am not righteous. I’m not justified, and I am no different than he. My sins stretch beyond the vastness of the stars, into the outer darkness, where my soul is doomed to linger—forever linger.”
Seemingly deeply moved, Darshun knelt beside her. Compassionately, he brushed aside the veil of hair shielding her face.
Talvenya felt surprised when she looked at him and saw tears cascading from his eyes.
He too seemed to be weeping—weeping with her. “You are not Abaddon,” he said, in a soft gentle voice. “Abaddon held no remorse nor regret in his soul. The sorrow you’re experiencing, however, is enough to cover the whole earth. Your heart has changed—your spirit reborn. Please, compare yourself to Abaddon no longer.”
“I hurt you,” she whimpered. “For the means of the crystals I hurt you—all for Abaddon.”
He nudged his head tenderly against hers and cupped her cold hands into his palms. “That is the past. Waste energy no more on such deeds. All right, my lady?”
She widened her eyes, remembering how Darshun used to call her that when they first met, ‘my lady’ back when he—felt something for her. But like her evil deeds, this was also a part of the past. “No one ever loved me like you, Darshun. No one. Since my departure from— ‘Light’, you were the first creature of any sort to care about me, sacrifice for me—the first creature to love me. And what did I do? I made you suffer—suffer so dreadfully, deceiving you into taking your own life—and you would have, had not your Angel been there to save you.”
‘Your Angel,’ no doubt Kelarin was whom she was speaking about. It’d been her, who healed him, took Darshun's hand in the void of darkness and brought him back into the Light.
By just the mentioning of her name, Talvenya witnessed a smile cover his face. She knew he loved her, and Kelarin loved him. She remembered how the elvish girl clung to his Angelic form when ascending out of the mountain during the last battle, the look in her eyes for his well being as he took on the five Demons and Abaddon. The dance they shared. Yes, Talvenya had indeed gone to the festival, but merely observed from the outskirts, clinging in shadow. She watched them dance, and in their eyes witnessed the love they felt for one another.
Darshun was taken. His heart had been captured.
Talvenya was too late, even though selfishly she felt she had him first. “So malicious, so malevolent was my heart toward you,” she continued, “Unable to see any righteousness or truth, of how you treated me—like a true Queen, unable to envision the love you had for me, or feel anything except my own selfish desires. Now that I have come to realize that, admittedly, I—I love you, more than you could possibly understand, Darshun. But I know it’s too late. I don’t belong to you,” she whimpered, downcast eyes. “Your heart is forever captured. Another suffering I must endure. Love, always has, and always will be, a stranger to me.” She began to weep harder than perhaps any soul could bear.
Darshun held her close, wrapping his arms around her, rubbing her back.
She pushed away. “Take your blade, slice my throat, and leave my carcass for the wolves!” She reached for his sword, grabbing the handle, trying to unsheathe it.
He caught her hand.
She fought him, using her other arm, but still could not grasp it from his grip, and she broke down even more, falling against his chest. “I don’t deserve to live! Please Darshun, take me out of this realm; take me away. Please!” she begged loudly, sobbing so bitterly, one could not help but to weep also.
“You’ve walked a path more difficult than even I,” Darshun soothed. “You’ve stooped into the lowest form of wickedness, of evil, to the very bottom of the barrel, and fought your way back, out of that stench. And now, as you stand here before me, your heart broken and contrite, it is clear that your repentance is sincere, pure. Because of this, Abidan weeps with you—for you, and the Angels this moment are already announcing your return, dancing with great joy.” Darshun pulled her closer, her face buried into his chest. “I love you Aurora. I always have,” he said gently. “You were my first love. And I forgive you for all of your sins against me.” He stretched out his wings and delicately folded them around her like a cocoon.
His energy felt warm, soothing, as it burrowed into her body, beneath her skin, invading every pore, flushing away the sorrow, dread and despair. Then, she could not quite grasp what happened next. First, she felt as if they were soaring across the sky, the sound of the wind outside Darshun’s wings became loud and fierce; there was a tickling under her feet, like a cold—sometimes warm, and eventually hot breeze blowing against them. Then, a flash of white light, and she found herself in the middle of a forest. It was the season of spring, evident by the beautiful lilac bushes blooming magnificently, and the smells of a hundred other springtime flowers calmly drifting through the air.
She now stood before an embankment descending into a white inferno.
Darshun stood in between her and the embankment, the white flames elevating beyond his form. He held out his hand.
Instinctually, she reached for it, suddenly realizing she stood naked. Like the skin of a snake, her clothes had been shed, bare breasts and all, down to her bare feet. She touched Darshun’s hand and he delicately, but also firmly, gripped it, and began walking down the embankment.
Talvenya felt afraid, but knew she must go through with this, whatever—this was, at least.
Darshun led her into the flames.
Instead of burning up…something she did not truly believe would happen…the souls of every innocent life she took from this world, their energy, their love, swarmed her, intertwining her own energy and spirit, weaving in and out of it. The feeling seemed overwhelming, elegant. She understood the message, they all forgave her—already had forgiven her, and the peace of their spirits, accompanied by an immaculate sensation of warmth and joy, made her feel more loved than she’d ever experienced before, or at least could not remember. Her tears now were tears of joy, and if ever there was time to altar the future, it was now. No longer would she commit any deed of darkness. No wickedness or selfishness. From now on—her life would be to serve others.
Out of the inferno, they came, descending up the other side of the embankment, and once to the top, she looked long at Darshun, his gaze remained steady in return. Then, she knelt before him. “Thank you Dar—I mean—thank you, my Guardian.”
Smiling, he kissed her on top of the head. “Go in peace, dearest Ceutaiche.” Then, he was gone.
She didn't know when he left, for she’d been lost in a daze, having closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling once again of freedom, ready to begin a new life—the life she knew prior to the Samaeltho.
Curious, she turned around to see if the flames still scorched; not surprisingly—they were gone, replaced by a pond.
The water looked crystal clear, with many different types of fish swimming around; some brightly colored, others quite odd-looking, having whiskers and what some might call a monstrous face.
The sight made
her laugh. They began to leap out of the water, startling her; and then more began jumping, and then the bright colored ones too, almost as if they were playing.
“Settle down guys, before the birds flock to eat you,” she teased, smiling. Then, in the reflection of the water she noticed something: her scars were gone, hair was strawberry-blonde again, her eyes a sea blue. She was clothed in beautiful white and blue garments, strange garments she’d never seen before—at least not in reality. The only recollection of such a wardrobe was from the dream of the lady in white, Kelarin, had brought her into, to the land Ceutaiche was originally from, Cyteria, the land of her people! Was she—back home? Her true home?
With a rush of excitement, she ran through the woods, passed around large thickets, skidded down a muddy embankment, and ran and ran until finally reaching the end of those woodlands, stopping suddenly, an ocean breeze blowing the curls of her hair wildly. Before Ceutaiche were the remains of broken and charred stone, scattered across a dead plain where no vegetation grew while rusty steel of weaponry lay at her feet and beyond, a ledge to the hillside stretched the great sea. She remembered this place, from the dream with Kelarin…Cyteria, her birthplace; this was where her father and mother fled to save her, and where that creature destroyed them—her people. She’d arrived home, the other side of the sea, and only now the true purpose for why she was born would begin. Distracted by this new wonder, she strolled around the landscape, curiously exploring the five hundred year carnage….
Darshun stood on the peak of a giant red cedar, observing little Ceutaiche. "Whenever you need help," he spoke, "I will be there for you Ceutaiche. As your Guardian, I will be there.” He slowly ascended into the sky, expanded his wings, casting a shadow on the ground which Ceutaiche did not see—then he was gone.
GUARDIAN SERIES
BOOK ONE
