Guardianship, Prologue - The Throne (Part 1) (Edited)

She went back to the Throne just a few hours after the battle had broken out. Twilight was falling, and the little light that remained shed light over the land where a great city once stood, which had become a battlefield several hours before, and now lay in ruins. Destruction had rained on the city, where the Nameless had come to take away all life and its Guardianship. The ashes of the old world fell from the darkening sky, nothing had remained standing, except the building in which the Throne was kept. It stood among the rubble, rising magnificently above the gray ashes; the roof had fallen, the walls had been torn apart, and yet it stood, even if it was half destroyed, resilient, determined to exist.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she saw what had happened. Her thoughts were racing, and emptiness neared her heart. The only thing she wanted was to reach the Throne. Guilt overwhelmed her and, even though she knew she could not have prevented any of this from happening, she found something to be guilty for. But above all, it was fear that took her heart. Fear that she had not made it in time, and every step she took into the city that was now more dead than alive seemed to confirm this.

She reached the building, more tears sliding down her face as she let out a strangled scream. She climbed over the destroyed walls, more pieces of it crumbling to the ground. Next to her lay the beautifully elaborate wooden doors that once closed off the building from the outside. Inside the floors were as elaborate as the doors had been, with arborescent lines and words engraved on its cold, dark surface that was barely visible under the bricks, stones and dust from the roof which had fallen, and now the sky could be seen from above. Claw marks left by the Nameless had ruined the beauty of the carefully engraved walls that still stood, and the black banners with the six-leafed flower, symbol of the Nascent Throne, had also been torn to shreds by the monsters.

In the far end of the room a set of steps lead to the higher part of the building, where the great Throne rose, made of something similar to black glass, glinting with a dark light, slashed in the middle, nearly divided in two parts. It was a piece of queer beauty, the stone it was made from seemed as if it had either been carved uncaringly from a single, large block, or that it had been assembled from different shards of crystals. It had many sharp edges, its back rising to nearly four meters of height, the highest crystal resembled a sword, and was probably as sharp as one. The girl thought. Behind it there were pieces of broken glass of a destroyed window, which used to be quite colorful, depicting something of importance, which was now scattered across the floor, destined to be forgotten. On top of the window, engraved on the wall, in Siela’s ancient language, was written:

“Here stands the Nascent Throne,

belonging to those who’ve fought their battles alone.

Carved from stone made of glass,

Only those whose heart is shattered may pass,

And grasp the silent power that here lays asleep,

The power of the night theirs to keep,

their fate to rise to greatness in the battle’s resolve. ”

She climbed down from the pile of the ruins the walls had become, her talons echoing across the deserted room as she made contact with the floor, her Soul following closely behind her. She headed towards the Throne, little clouds of dust rising as she crossed the room. Once she was directly in front of it, she fell in a low bow, her ears bent back, then a voice that belonged to no one sounded across the room.

“What do you seek in the fallen city?”

The voice was soft, kind and reassuring, but there was a hint of sadness inside it. The girl was not scared of it, at the contrary, it was a relief to hear for it meant that all hope was not yet lost. It was, after all, what she had come for.

“I seek the power of the world,” she said, her voice cracking, as she wiped the tears from her, bravery building.

“The power of the of the world is given not to those who simply come, lightly asking, for who knows what intentions they might be masking, but to those with an honest reason,” replied the voice.

“My reason is to end the reign of those who destroyed the city that once rose here, my reason is to bring back the fading lights.”

She could feel power washing over her, as the writings and drawings on the walls and floors lit up, glinting with the same black light that the Throne emanated. Nearly a minute passed, and the voice had not yet spoken.

“Please!” she said, desperately, her brow still facing the black floor. This was the only thing she had left. If the voice did not grant her the powers of the world, she would have nothing to live for anymore, there would be no reason in her life. For years she had searched this place, the place where the Guardianship of Darkness lay, and had traveled from far and distant lands to reach it. She tried to reassure herself with one thought, that the Guardianships could see what the soul truly thought, that there was no lie that one could belie when standing in front of them, though that was no more than a legend.

“I see you have an honest reason, and you mean the world no treason, and you’ve a heart that is weak, broken, like the Throne is, so I will grant you what you seek,” said the voice. The walls, the floors and the throne were no longer glinting, but shining strongly with black light now, the power was getting stronger and stronger.

“Marea Caedes, I shall give you the power of the world that lies here, the power to all the things endear, the power to command the shadows which will aid you in all your battles, the power to bring forth that which is most beautiful and that which is more fearsome, the power to bring the people together, and to become known by the shining of the wings made of glass feathers. I bring down on you the Guardianship of Darkness.”

The Throne lit up, and she felt the power seep within her, and she felt stronger, more powerful than she had ever been, but, just like when she had acquired the element of Darkness, she felt the pain that came along the power: sadness, despair, terror, guilt, hate. Her Soul was glowing with the power as well, and slowly, two pairs of wings started to form behind her, shining the same way the Throne did.

“Stand now, brave child, ” said the voice, which was starting to slowly fade along with the lights of the room. The only thing still bright were Marea’s wings and soul. She did as told, moving the two wings in front of her; they embraced her, warm, like a blanket. They were not made of feathers or scales, but of crystals, the same that made the Throne. Lowering them to the ground, the blades scratched the floor, then they shattered and became sand.

“They are yours to command, they will return at the wave of your hand,” said the voice, barely audible now, “I regret to say that I have little time left, and now that you have been blessed you can ask me one question, which I will answer undoubtedly truthfully. You may ask for anything you wish to know.”

Marea knew the question she wanted to ask, it had burned inside her for years, ever since she had become a Darkness holder, but she was scared of what the answer would be. The voice’s time was running out, and she had to decide before it did.

“I have nothing to ask,” she said in the end. Just as the final light faded, she bent her knee and bowed deeply towards the throne again, “You’ve granted me my wish. I know you’ve done so because there was no one else who would stand before you, and your choice may have been made out of desperation or convenience. But rest assured,I promise, I’ll not let Siela Fade.”