(Starla)
I let him lead me through the corridors.
Was I becoming part of this place? Will I be accepted by them?
It was a dangerous thought. A false hope. But for now, I let myself believe that I could.
"You are different from your brother. You appear relaxed."
Alistair weakly smiled at my words, the kind that showed he truly cared for them.
"Aksel was destroyed by a human. Azkan lost himself by watching him suffer. They carry that weight every day." His eyes found mine, and I saw seriousness in his gaze. "I carry something different. I carry hope."
"Hope?" There was more to that, not only hope but something deeper that he hid.
"That one day, we will be better than our past. That one day, humans won’t be the enemy." He smiled, and it was softer than before. "When I heard you reached Aksel, I knew I was right."
I felt seen. My powers seemed to work differently here. "Alistair, I..."
"You don’t have to explain yourself." He bumped my shoulder gently. "People believe I am a charming rogue, the one who smiles because my brother won’t. The one who cares and listens. But everything comes with a price, and only a select few can see through that illusion."
Illusion? Was his happy demeanour just an illusion he created?
Before we could delve deep into it, we reached the library, and Alistair pushed open the doors.
"Welcome," he said, sweeping his arm dramatically, "to the heart of our history."
The library was breathtaking, straight out of my dreams.
Leather-bound books lined every wall, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Scrolls filled glass cases, their edges worn with age. Maps of territories of the Beastworld and beyond hung from the walls.
I took it all in with a long inhale, letting myself be soaked into the beauty of it, the mind invoking scents of it.
In the centre of the room, on a pedestal carved from a white marble, sat a glowing orb with a misty, swirling silvery-purple smoke.
"What’s that?" I asked, drawn towards it.
"That’s the Memory Orb," Alistair told me, his voice hushed. "It contains the history of the Beastworld. Every clan, every battle, every triumph and tragedy. It’s been passed down for centuries."
I stared at the orb, mesmerised. Energy pulsed within it, ancient and powerful. It pulled me towards it.
"Can I touch it?"
"Normally, no." Alistair’s grin returned. "But you are a special guest, so go ahead."
He let me reach past himself. I pressed my right against the orb. It glowed brighter, and images began to form inside, scenes of battle, of celebration, of losses and grief too.
I watched, transfixed. This was their history, their pain and their victories.
"Starla," Alistair whispered, his voice soft. "You are part of this history now. You accomplished what no one else could."
He took my left hand and pressed it on the globe’s warm surface too. I felt something settle in my chest. Something warm, terrifying and undeniable.
"This is so insightful, thank you for sharing it with me."
He simply nodded. This was his way of saying that he trusted me to share all this. Never was I going to break it.
His brother and his people may not share the same sentiment, but somehow he did. I still didn’t understand why.
Maybe he wouldn’t when he learnt the truth about me, that I was a fraud.
When my energy would run out.
But for now, I let myself believe. For now, I let myself hope that I could make a difference by returning their brother to them.
"I still have to help him turn back into his human self."
Alistair’s smile was bright enough to light the entire room.
"I think you will figure out a way, Starla. This whole library is at your disposal."
Yes, maybe I could consult a few books and figure out how to channel my energy in a way to turn him back into his human form.
The Memory Stone still glowed faintly on its pedestal, the images it had shown us fading like embers in the dark. I stood before it, my hands still resting on its surface, feeling the ancient energy hum beneath my palm.
Alistair had gotten quiet beside me. For once, he wasn’t filling the silence with jokes or teasing remarks. He was watching me, his eyes thoughtful.
My thoughts drifted to today’s events and everything I had witnessed in the Academy.
"You are thinking about something," he stated. "I can tell."
I pulled my hand away from the stone. "I noticed something today. In the Academy."
"What’s that?"
"Children were training to be warriors and sentinels. Children training to be strategists. Children training to be healers." I turned to face him. "But no female children were training to be guides. Only male, why was that?"
Alistair’s expression flickered. The easy grin faded, replaced by something much sadder.
"No," he said quietly. "There weren’t."
"Why?" My heart skipped a beat. I knew this was related to why they were seeking human guides and what I had learnt in the reports, but he could explain it better.
He was silent for a moment. Then he walked to a nearby window, his back to me, his silhouette sharp against the fading light.
"How much do you know about our female guides?" he asked. "About what happened to them?"
"Only what the reports said. That a disease has been killing your guidewomen. That’s why you started seeking human guides." I paused. "But the reports were vague. They didn’t say much."
"They never do." Alistair’s voice was bitter. "The clans don’t like to talk about it. It’s a wound we don’t know how to heal, but it’s festering, and we don’t know how to cure it."
He turned to face me, and I saw his eyes filled with raw pain.
"It started one-twenty years ago," he began to explain, crossing his arms and leaning against the window frame. "The guidewomen started dying. One by one, clan by clan. No one knew why. No one knew how to stop it."
"What did they die of?" I asked, horrified.
"That’s the thing." His jaw tightened. "No one knows. They just... faded. Their energy drained away, day by day, until there was nothing left. The healers tried everything. Rituals. Medicines. Blood magic, but nothing worked."
I felt a chill run down my spine. Faded with their energy drained away slowly.
Just like me
"Within 30 years, half our guidewomen were dead. The ones who survived..." He shook his head. "They were weak. Their energy was fragile. They couldn’t guide anymore, not could they help anyone. It has been very tragic for the Beastworld, how the situation is progressing."
It was depressing indeed.
"The disease," I asked slowly. "Does it affect their energy? Their ability to guide?"
"Yes. And no one could figure out why." He pushed off from the window and walked toward me. "The clans panicked. Without guides, our warriors couldn’t fight. Our Sentinels couldn’t control their power. We were dying, Starla. Not from war or famine but from the slow extinction of our most precious gift."
This broke my heart.