by J. D. Wilde
The Torn Guardian
By J.D. Wilde
Copyright © 2016 by J.D. Wilde
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2016
ISBN 0-9977653-0-5
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
“Lux? Are you all right?” the giant dragon bellows at me.
I say nothing for I cannot speak. This pain is too much; it’s unbearable. I want to yell at him to shut his mouth because of course I am not all right! I have never been “all right” with one of my sisters dying. I open my mouth to reply, but words fail to leave. All I can do is breathe, and even that is becoming harder.
My lungs feel as though boulders are hanging from them. A strong force is both pushing and pulling me towards the temple's floors, and I know if I do not devote every ounce of my attention to simple breathing, I will pass out like last time. My arms and legs shake as I become heavier and heavier. My vision begins to cloud up, making it hard to see the three giant dragons in the room with me. My mind begs for this suffering to end, but there is more yet.
My chest blazes as if it has been lit on fire for days. While my body hurts all over, this is where the pain is currently strongest. This is where Jo's soul is merging with mine. Soon I will have her memories, her talents, but she herself will be gone. There could always only be one of us. I know this. I know this by the world's balance I do, but logical reasoning is hard to come by when overcome with grief.
She’s gone. Jo. No, not Jo. Not her. Why? She was my closest sister; the only one who was allowed to occasionally visit me here in the Otherworld. She was the only one other than me who knew our duties and our purpose. The others were and are completely oblivious. I close my eyes and ignore the irritating questions echoing around the brilliant marble temple’s walls. I try to lie to myself. I try to convince myself that it didn’t happen, but it did. I know this pain. It is unmistakable from any other. Jo is dead just like two of the others. Now, only three of us remain- one light, one death, and one life.
My hot, shallow breathes become harder as the next part of this agonizing process begins. Jo’s life replays rapidly in my mind. The intense pain in my chest from before is slowly moving to my head as her memories merge with my existing ones to become my own. My screams can be heard throughout the Otherworld as I witness and feel one of the large animalistic claws pick Jo up, and the other rips her innards out. Blood paints the wall, and a red puddle forms on the floor beneath.
I’ve never seen one of these monsters before, and I don’t think Jo has either. She is silent, but there is another woman screaming. Try as I might I cannot see who it is. Jo's gaze is focused on the hate-filled gleaming red eyes staring at her. Blood spurts out of Jo’s open mouth, as she chokes on it trying to say something. She tries again, but all that comes out is more blood. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Jo’s body hangs limply. This dreadful memory ends.
“What have you learned, Lux?” Jenesis, the life dragon asks me as soon as he sees Jo’s soul has finished merging with mine. He is covered in an assortment of plant life, vines, and moss. His soft, light green scales shine as the light from the torches lighting the temple hit him. He circles around me, observing my current state almost like a wolf before it strikes its target. Anyone else would think the dragon is preying on me, but I have known him my whole life. He is checking my body to see if there is any permanent damage.
The pain is always excruciating as my deceased sisters’ souls merge with mine, but this is by far the worst I have experienced. Jo was the third one to die. Linette had been first, Elizabeth second. Everything they once were is embedded in me. Their strengths, intelligence, skills. This whole process the dragon’s created to make me as strong as possible might just be my downfall.
They want the perfect warrior, but it is practically impossible for anyone to be great at everything. Even the dragons have separate talents only they can do, so this is their master plan. Separate my sisters and me and make us master different skills away from one another by living completely different lives. Then, when the time came, combine all of our skills, talents, and traits back into one body to serve one function. Protect the balance between light and darkness, life and death of the world Nilohm.
My breathing starts to return to normal, and the pain is slowly subsiding. However, it is taking longer each time for me to return to myself. Not only that but I’ve noticed each additional death brings pain significantly worse than the prior one, so I don’t only feel guilty about getting to live. I’m being punished for something I honestly have no control over.
A disheartened sigh escapes my mouth as I bring my head to the floor in an effort to fight back tears. There is absolutely no way I can handle this happening two more times. The mere thought of enduring this pain twice more makes my body tense all over.
Jenesis shakes his head clearly irritated at my inability to answer. “Give her a minute,” his brother and my own creator Oran the light dragon orders. His pearl white scales push Jenesis’s green away as he forms a protective circle around me. “Jo’s death is going to affect her more than the others.”
Jenesis lifts his head and huffs. As the two dragon brothers bicker, I notice their third brother Mors, the pitch black dragon of death, has remained silent. I don’t believe he has said a single word since I fell to the ground, and it appears his brothers have forgotten he is here. He remains in the far corner of the temple keeping a watchful eye over us.
Mors is different than the other two; the top half of his body is covered in dark grey bones instead of shiny scales like his brothers. Still, all brothers showed some resemblance to each other. Both Mors and Jenesis have arms and claws unlike Oran who has no external limbs at all. And while Oran sports a golden lion like mane and Mors’s is as black as the rest of him with long feathers intertwined, Jenesis is surprisingly hair free. However, there is one quality all three of them share. They are large giants, and my adult human body looks like a toddler compared to them.
As I finally begin to feel some semblance of normal again, I realize I still need to answer Jenesis’s annoying questions. My body is physically fine, albeit not nearly one hundred percent. The burning sensation in my head and chest are ever present and incredibly persistent. I just want to go lie down, but they will not let me leave until I answer these ridiculous questions. I look up to give him a snarky answer, but all I do is stare at the great life dragon’s sullen expression. I'm overcome with a greater sense of guilt.
Sometimes I forget this process hurts the dragon brothers as well. Jo had been one of Jenesis’s two creations, and he was always so proud of her. Her death is surprising. Not because it happened, all mortal lives end, but because of when it happened. She was expected to be the final one remaining apart from me. I st
ill do not completely understand why she died even though I essentially just relived it. Her skills were arguably the greatest out of all of us, and yet she died third. It does not make any sense.
My answer to the life dragon’s question is short and to the point as we both simply want this to be over with. “A good team armed with daggers is greater than a lone great sword,” I say to finally answer his question, so this can torture can end. I’ve tried giving them simpler answers before, but they always want it to sound smarter or more philosophical. I hate it. I’ve literally just experienced death for the third time, and they want me to reply to their meaningless questions with some great, saintly insight. All I want to do is curl up into a ball and rest away from all of them.
“Good,” Jenesis says. His tone a confusing mixture of disappointment and approval. He knew the deaths of his creations were guaranteed. I am the anchor after all; the one chosen to harbor all of my sister’s knowledge and use their experiences and skills collectively as one. Jo was supposed to replace me if something ever went wrong, but now there is no choice. I am the answer to their problem, so he continues to press his questions, “What else have you learned?” He wants to know why Jo died, what I should do differently to avoid that fate.
"Duty above all," I answer after spitting out the excess saliva in my mouth. My cheeks flush red as the intense anger within me begins to boil over. Jo forgot her own duty. It is as simple as that.
She knew how important she was. She knew the power she held, and she chose to sacrifice herself for a single normal person who cannot combat darkness with an elite army behind her. Jo acted like a self-righteous idiot hurling herself into danger, and for the first time in my life, I am actually ashamed of what one of my sisters did.
None of my other sisters knew they were the daughters of the three great dragons except Jo. She not only knew, she received special training. We were both taught to think clearly, to quickly analyze, and most importantly to keep ourselves calm. It took Jo a mere second to throw that all away and charge into her death.
I cannot help but wonder if Jenesis is also at least slightly disappointed in Jo. She received elite training, and she died in the most preventable way. Whereas Linette's death taught me to always be prepared for a fight, and Elizabeth's taught me my actions have consequences, Jo's great life lesson is to not charge into the enemy with a hot head and no weapon. My face pangs as my clenched jaw feels it is about to shatter every tooth within my mouth.
“Well then,” Mors says as he has finally decided to speak up and remind his brothers of his existence. He rises from his corner and motions for me to follow him. Both Oran and Jenesis move out of the way and allow me to pass. When I get to center of the temple and face Mors, he holds out his giant hand, and a whirlwind of black feathers reveals a dark brown leather bound book. It is a journal, my journal specifically.
The brothers of life, death, and light expressed their desires early on to have me document everything I possibly can about what my sisters had accomplished, done, and, most importantly in their eyes, failed to do. Every time one of my sisters dies I write a new entry in it. I grab the depressing reminder that three of them are dead out of Mors’ hand and leave the temple. I cannot write when the three dragons are around; they look over my shoulder and constantly ask what I am writing.
I feel relieved when I get outside without one of them trying to question me further. The Otherworld really is not as scary a place as some believe. It is actually quite peaceful and beautiful albeit a bit sparse where we reside. Right behind the temple is a small area beautifully landscaped with a small pond and a single gigantic tree nearly as big as the dragons with wood that has turned grey with its age. I do not know exactly how old it is, but I have to assume quite old. It has not changed in the slightest since I first arrived almost twenty years ago. The branches arch and some of them are so long their tips graze the ground.
I take a seat right under the tree and lean back against the wide trunk like I always do. Wet moss covers the area I’ve chosen to lean against, but I do not mind getting my back a little wet. I am actually feeling quite warm as an aftereffect of merging souls with Jo, so the soft cooling effect of the moss against my back is very much welcomed.
I usually get right to work writing down everything I can while the experiences are still fresh, but this time I just stare at the cover. I have no idea where to start, and without Oran, Jenesis, or Mors around to distract me, it hits me even harder. My anger is replaced by the earlier grief.
Jo is dead. I look up in the sky and see her world, a place I have never been myself. It’s like a one way mirror. I can see her world’s luminous glow up here, yet Nilohm’s citizens have no idea this place actually exists. Some believe it does, but they will never know for sure. Our presence is always meant to be felt. Never seen.
I cannot stop staring at it. The world looks so peaceful, but I know that is not the case. Jo loved her home. She gave everything she had to protect it. Whenever she visited, she told fantastic stories about the people and places she loved the most. Yet during her last visit over a year ago, she began to speak more and more about how worried she was for her land. The only people she felt she could confide with was her mentor and me. She knew something evil was working to destroy her home, but she still could not prepare enough to stop it. She will never visit me again. I am alone.
When my sister Linette died, I cried because I was scared. When Elizabeth died, I cried because it hurt. I did not know them. I was so young and naive. I did not understand what happened, what it meant. But, Jo—Jo truly was my sister. She did not only know me; she knew everything about what we are. She understood. Even though Jo is technically a part of me now, I have never felt farther away from her. I can no longer fight it. I break down. My tears are beginning to form small puddles on the leather cover, but I cannot care less.
I don’t know how long I’ve been crying here, but eventually the tears do stop. I have yet to write anything, but I cannot go back with nothing. The beginning is always the hardest, so I open the journal and look at the first entry as an example. It was Linette’s death; she was Oran’s other creation. Even though her and my powers are based on the same principle of light, we are completely different. For one she was a diplomat far more elegant with her words than lethal with any weapon. Her intelligence was unmatched by all of us due to her rather studious nature.
The first page of each of my sisters’ entries details a list of the lessons I’ve learned from their lives and ultimately their deaths. Linette taught me words can be just as powerful as blades in certain situations, but using words as a shield from a dagger is incredibly ineffective. I read through some of the moments of her life that stuck out to me at the time.
Most of them I remember as clearly as if I had been the one living through them. I can still smell the subtle citrus scent of her mother’s perfume as she curled up close. I felt the warmth of the fires on the coldest of winter days. I heard the cheering on her inauguration day as the whole city lit up when she first sat upon the throne. I suppose it is weird to have the memories of others, but I’ve grown used to it. There are plenty of wonderful things I have been able to experience by gaining my sister’s memories. Unfortunately, for every good experience there happened to be as many if not more bad.
I get to Elizabeth’s section after flipping through some more pages, and here is the bulk of the bad. Elizabeth’s life was honestly a tragedy. She was Mor’s first creation, and her affinity for his deathly powers did not go unnoticed in her lands. She was ostracized as they believed she was a dark witch. Admittedly, there was some truth to this, but she only began to use her powers for darker purposes after they labeled her themselves. That’s the problem with death. It is a necessary part of the cycle, but too often people outright fear it or try to use it for their own selfish purposes. Elizabeth took the natural necessity of death and began to abuse it turning it to darkness. She was able to redeem herself in Mors’ eyes right before she died, but he
r memories are not something I wish to relive.
Regardless of how many entries I read, I come up blank for what to write for Jo. I decide to finally turn to the first blank page available and try my luck. I need to write something, anything really at this point. I write down what I told Jenesis I had learned and proceed to spend the next half hour rereading the single sentence I have down. I know what I usually do. I usually write down the memories that seem most important. This not only includes how my sisters died and what should have been done to prevent it, but also what they thought, why they felt or acted the way they did.
I cannot do it. I cannot go through Jo’s or I guess my mind and replay the memories. It hurts. It hurts so much more than the previous times and on top of that it does not feel right. Maybe it is because I knew and spoke to Jo, but these memories don’t actually feel like a part of me. It feels like I stole them from her.
I give up. For the first time in my life, I flat out quit trying. I do not want to watch Jo die again; I know how it happened. I know why, that is good enough for me.
I close the journal, sit back, and close my eyes as they have grown heavy. All that crying left me exhausted, and a nap helps me escape the cold reality. As I’m beginning to fall asleep, I hear Oran call for me from the top of the temple’s stairs. My eyes feel rejuvenated instantly, and my heart starts racing. Something important must be happening. Typically we are done for the day, and the three dragons leave me alone to get my mindset back to normal. Well, as normal as it can be. I toss the journal aside and sprint towards the large temple.
When I arrive, the three dragons of life, death, and light are positioned at the front of room. Jenesis nods his head for me to enter, and I approach them. Oran’s golden eyes light up, and a translucent, white globe magically manifests itself after a brief white light blinds me. It is a planet I recognize but have never been to personally. This is Nilohm. This was Jo’s home world.
