Page 97 of The Last Guardian

“The Head of the Celestium—the higher Oralys—feared the power this child could wield, what kind of power he could have. So, when Braz was born, the world went still.”

Zaidkiel leaned against his chair, his glass resting on his thigh as he continued. “A dozen of Oralys were there the night of the birth to test the drop in power of the babe the minute he was breathing.

“With luck, Braz possessed the power that Evarim can create naturally: obsidian, but stronger than any other. It was still a power they already understood—nothing uncontrollable enough to be a threat. Still, they forbade my parents from having any other children.

“Since the future of Evadrith was promising with my brother as heir, the Oralys asked the two kingdoms of Shavaar and Nythra to pledge allegiance to the Evadrith crown for safety. With Nirneshei at the side of the queen, they would be safe against any threat. That is how Evadrith became an empire, with my father and mother as emperor and empress.

“Years later, the Oralys saw how the power of Braz evolved, how strong he was becoming. They wanted to see other children in that capacity. So, they helped my parents to have other children, as a sort of experiment, to see if they could allow Surani and Noxari to breed with other species. I don’t have all the knowledge about what they did, but whatever they used to help my parents, it worked. Eight years later, I was born, followed six years later by Nef.

“When we were born, our power didn’t awaken at first, unlike most of the babes. Usually, the first drop of power is felt on the day of birth. But ours arrived around our fifth birthday. And it was too late when they realized that mine, and later Nefeli’s, weren’t anything they’d ever seen. Some sort of savage power. Nothing like Brazen. Was it because the Oralys helped or because, this time, the gene of my father took over the Evarim gene? We don’t know.”

He raised his hand, the tiny flame within his palm glowing in shades of dark red and black.

“We named mine ‘blackfire’. And Nefeli’s ‘silvershade’—a shadow in the shade of moonlight. Once the Oralys studied our power, they forbade the breeding of Surani and Noxari with other species.”

Zaidkiel closed his fist; his dark flames danced on his skin, his tattoos—never devouring his flesh.

“In a short time, my strength had grown to the point where it had become a threat, and they feared what Nefeli could do once she was able to wield it properly. They decided to stop us before we could be in danger. The Oralys attacked our home, Arren, to kill us.”

My mouth fell open, mortified by his story. “You were only children.”

“Yes.” His voice went flat. The dark flames kept swirling on his skin and flared. “I wish I could assure you it was the worst thing they had ever done, but it was not.”

A chill spread down my spine as I looked at him, shocked. If ordering the killing of children was not the worst thing of all, I wondered what was. Yet with what I saw today, what Kraktos had shown me, I wasn’t ready to know.

“I was twelve years old the day of the attack, and Nefeli was six,” Zaidkiel continued. “They set fire to the houses and tried to capture us. My brother fought for us, protecting us with all his strength. But a soldier stabbed him from behind with his sword imbued with rotterine.”

“Rotterine?” My pulse quickened at the sound of this word. “What is that?”

“It’s a plant that grows on deadlands. It’s highly infectious for every living being. It’s rare to survive once it touches living tissues.” He paused. His dark flames vanished as he added in a cold voice, “It’s death feeding on death.”

His older brother—Brazen—was the first born. Yet Kraktos called Zaidkiel Lost Heir.

“Your brother died that night…” I realized out loud, my chest tightened as I met his gaze.

Zaidkiel nodded. “I was the one meant for that sword.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “He stepped between the soldier and me.”

I blinked.

Stars, his brother died saving him. Guilt flashed in Zaidkiel’s eyes, and he averted his gaze.

“My brother died in our father’s arms,” Zaidkiel continued; his jaw tightened. “My father had always resented me because of my power—but that night, he started hating me for Braz’s death. Controlled by his own wrath, he tried to kill me—and Nefeli. But our mother’s power, as true monarch of Evadrith, was stronger than his. She intercepted his attack. Eirlys was there too. She had been one of my mother’s closest friends and advisors for years; she was the one who helped us escape Keraneeth.”

“Even with the border’s magic?”

Zaidkiel nodded. “Her power is far stronger than you can imagine—I don’t even know the immensity of her magic. It’s moonshade but older, wilder. She can pass the border without any crack, without any trace.” He cleared his throat and added, “Perygan was the safest place for us—even with the High Mages. Eirlys came with us to Lys—to protect us—and asked a family to take us under their care. The Kaeningtons.”

I frowned. “And your mother?” I asked, my fingers playing with my necklace. “Why hadn’t she followed you?”

He grazed his jaw as he answered, “She had to protect her kingdom, her people and deal with my father. If he wasn’t neutralized, I—as heir to the throne—would always be in danger. It was only about five years later, after my father had been arrested by the Oralys following his trial, that we were able to return freely to Keraneeth. Eirlys guided us all back across the border. We returned home to our mother.

“For the next seven decades, we lived happily, the three of us. In trying to chase the shadows of the past, my mother helped me embrace my new role as crown prince.”

Zaidkiel paused, and his gaze locked onto mine, a gaze that would remain etched in my memory. Ghosts flashed through his emerald eyes.

“But one night everything collapsed. I was in a tavern—not far from our home—when the sky turned red. The soil shook beneath my feet, and I knew something was happening. People were running, screaming in panic as I hurried back to the castle, but it was too late when I arrived. Our home had been attacked. Burned.”

My blood went cold in my veins. “Who attacked you?”