At the transportation center, the Guardians on duty tapped their shoulders and tipped their heads in deference. Guilt pinched my gut and prickled the back of my neck.

I did not deserve the admiration in their gazes.

Though my rank surpassed their own, my loyalty clearly did not. I should have been focused on how to save the dwindling Guardians and humankind. Instead, my mind still scrolled through a reel of horrific images: Isalio strung up...screaming...begging...dead.

I found Fraschkit beside a row of terranean warpers. Rust dulled the warpers' once-shining silver metal, and the spidering support legs bowed out, succumbing to the weight. The tunnel had also deteriorated over time: sand coated the track, and the lights faded dimmer with each concentric circle lining the runway.

"Are you sure these warpers are still safe?" I asked Fraschkit.

"Safe as ever," Fraschkit promised. "Just a bit bumpier."

I scowled. "Because it was so smooth before?"

She snorted a laugh. "You'll be fine. I'll protect you." Then she jerked open the side door to the nearest warper and clambered inside.

With a sigh, I followed her.

Fraschkit's fingers danced across the dashboard, adjusting the knobs to program our trip. When she jabbed the start button, the whirring began, low at first but quickly gaining pitch and volume. I popped open the compartment between us, snatched two pairs of ear muffs, and passed one pair to Fraschkit. The ear muffs dulled the screeching whir and muted the clanking legs folding into the warper as we lifted off the ground.

For a bare second, we hovered. Then the warper lurched forward, speeding down the track. Through the front windshield, I watched the concentric circles whip by faster and faster as we approached the wall at the end of the tunnel.

Fraschkit whooped in delight. I gripped the bar below the dashboard, whiteknuckled.

The wall of dirt loomed before us, impossibly compact, and I instinctively braced for impact. But somehow, as it always did, the front of the disc sliced neatly through the wall of soil, carving a path like a builder ant. The windshield turned from rich brown to grainy tan as we rocketed upward.

In a cloud of sand and dust, we emerged.

The sand settled around us, leaving an endless stretch of desert. I darted a glance through the rearview mirror to see the sand already settled neatly behind us, leaving no trace of the eviscerated land below or the spot where we had just emerged. No human, Demon, or even Guardian could possibly locate our base without a warper.

The warper sputtered, choking on sand, and tipped from left to right. Then the whirring dropped to a gentle hum, and the warper cruised onward. We sailed across the desert just inches above the ground.

Fraschkit and I removed our ear muffs, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. The desert spanned endless before us, swaths of tan and mirages of silver sunlight stretching into the horizon.

Unfortunately, the calm allowed Isalio to reenter my mind. I remembered how my clothing draped his slim frame, and how he kneeled in front of me. I can make you feel things no Guardian ever has. And worst of all, I remembered my last words to him.

You won't die underground.

What an idiotic thing to say. Even if Rakimar and Borgal forbade Marqan from harming him while I visited my father, what was the long-term solution? How could I justify saving him? How could I prove his life held more merit than detriment?

How could I know it myself?

Fraschkit distracted me from my thoughts by socking me in the shoulder—a faux-friendly punch that was quite a bit harder than necessary, in my opinion.

I glowered at her and rubbed the still-stinging appendage. "What the fuck was—"

"They won't hurt him, Remgar."

My glower dissipated. "What? Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "They won't hurt Isalio while we're gone." She said his name like a dirty word. "I asked Borgal, and he promised me."

I blew out an incredulous exhale. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because you like him."

I shook my head. "Me? Like a Demon?"

She chuckled and patted the same arm she had just punched. "Remgar, do you really think I pined over you for three fucking years without learning how to read you a little?"

I winced, and my mouth played with an apology, but she waved a dismissive hand before I found my voice.

"Don't worry," said Fraschkit, "I'm so over that."

I eyed her, searching for any hint of resentment, but her smile appeared genuine. "That's good," I said slowly. "I'm glad."

"Honestly, I really can't figure out what I ever saw in you. You're like a cute little puppy, whereas Rakimar is a fucking lioness. "

A startled burst of laughter escaped me. "Well, that's... thanks, Fraschkit. I appreciate it."

She met my laugh with a grin—but it quickly faded to a frown. "Too bad the lioness is even less interested."

"I don't know about that. I'm sure she sees your appeal. Fuck, even I can see that, and I am strictly, and I mean strictly, interested in men."

"But she turned me away."

I sighed. "She's already loved and lost. She's already run her course."

"She's not that old."

"But she's dying."

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. At the reminder of Rakimar's declaration, Fraschkit's lower lip began to tremble.

"Fraschkit..." I said, though I was unsure what comforting words I could give to follow.

Luckily, something else diverted her attention. She straightened in her seat and squinted through the plexiglass at the horizon.

"That's Anyalasa, right?"

Rolling green hills poked up above the desert in the distance, spattered with vibrant, bending trees. From a distance, it appeared just as utopian as the village I had visited years ago on the way to Pataklasa. But last time, the city bustle quickly drowned out the hum of the warper. This time, even as the windshield morphed from tan to green, we saw no sign of life.

Between fear of betraying my cause and fear of seeing my father once again, I had barely spared a thought for Anyalasa. Now, trepidation prickled cold over my skin.

"Did the survivors move to another village?" I asked Fraschkit.

She bit her lip. "I don't think so. The Guardians who reported back to us yesterday said the survivors planned to rebuild."

"Then...where are they?"

Fraschkit killed the engine. The warper nestled into wet grass with a quiet "gluck," and we stepped out.

Even though I knew what I would see, my heart dropped at the sight of the decimated town. Bright rooftops caved in, sturdy brick walls lay in heaps, and the once grand First Guardian Cathedral had been reduced to jagged rubble and fluttering debris. Even the few standing buildings were riddled with holes. Silence buried the town, broken only by the few unaware insects chirping in the bushes.

I swallowed twice before managing a question. "Do you think the Morgabeast...came back?"

Fraschkit offered some bizarre amalgamation of a shrug, a headshake, and a nod.
"Well, I don't—I think—I guess I..."

The villagers appeared. Slowly, they cracked open doors and emerged from behind piles of rubble to gather before us.

It was a meager group compared to what I had last seen in Anyalasa, but according to the early reports other Guardian had given, I guessed that nearly every surviving villager now stood before us. The humans represented every color, age, and gender, but they shared two things in common.

First, they were small. It never failed to surprise me how tiny and vulnerable humans appeared, smaller than any Guardian and probably even smaller than Isalio. Second, they all wore tattered rags and weary expressions.

These people were broken.

The villagers had hidden, I surmised, when they heard our terranean warper. I wondered how the sound of the approaching Morgabeast had compared. Had their windows and glasses vibrated with ominous buzz before the beast arrived, like the rattle of a poisonous snake? Or had the monster appeared with a flurry of silent legs, like a centipede?

Fraschkit found her voice first. "We are deeply sorry for the unspeakable horror you have all witnessed here in Anyalasa at the hands of the Demon High Prince."

When one member of the crowd folded arms under her hefty bust and scoffed, Fraschkit appeared almost relieved. "The High Prince never even arrived," said the dissenter. "And no Guardians showed until the damage was done. What does that mean? Is Anyalasa simply not worth the time for Demons or Guardians?"

Fraschkit squeezed her eyes shut. "Guardians have not abandoned you. That's why we have come now to warn you of our latest intel. In case of another attack, you might find safety underground."

The side-glances and hushed murmurs confirmed our intel—these villagers had all been underground during the attack.

However, the dissenter from before propped a fist on her wide hips and glared at Fraschkit. "Listen, I'm the mayor of Anyalasa. If you had told me this a week ago, I would have thanked you for the warning. But now..." Her eyes flitted around the crowd, and tears gleamed on her cheeks. "Now it's too late. Our village is in ruins. And from everything we've heard and seen, the Morgabeast is a predator—not a scavenger."

Fraschkit's chest deflated. I watched her play with a counterargument—and abandon it. Instead, she said only, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

The mayor hummed a sigh. "Fine, be sorry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." Then she pivoted and trudged back off toward a pile of rubble.

Following the mayor's lead, the rest of the crowd dissipated. Only five children remained before us. Dried tears tracked lines down their dirty faces, but their eyes were wide and bright.

Not sure what to say, I fluttered a couple of fingers in greeting. One little boy darted toward me and wrapped both arms around one of my legs. I blinked at the child's ruffled auburn hair and shot Fraschkit a desperate side-glance.

"Why me?" I mouthed.

"Puppy," she mouthed back with a sad smile.

"Thank you for coming, Mister Guardian, Sir," the boy mumbled into my legs. "Guardians are my heroes."

The genuine words stabbed a knife in my gut. When I was a child, Guardians were true heroes. When I was a child, the sight of a warrior in full Guardian regalia swelled my chest with pride. That's who I'm going to be one day, I had thought to myself.

But somewhere in the last fourteen years, Guardians had lost sight of that purpose. Now we were fuelled by fear and anger. Now the uniform I wore meant nothing.

"That's...nice," I managed to croak.

The boy lifted his head, gray-blue eyes meeting mine. "So, can you fly?"

I pushed out a chuckle over the knot in my throat. "No. Guardians belong to the ground."

"But I thought heroes were supposed to fly."

Hesitantly, I patted his head. "Heroes are supposed to catch you when you fall. The sky never caught anyone."

Another child ventured a couple steps closer, twisting a lock of ashen hair between her fingers. "So, why didn't you catch my daddy? My mommy says maybe he didn't have enough faith in the First Guardian, but I saw him praying sometimes, and he was a very good daddy."

The knife in my gut twisted, and my swollen throat trapped my voice. When I was unable to produce more than a muted hum, Fraschkit took over.

"Your daddy didn't do anything wrong," she told the girl. "If anything, the blame lies with Guardians. It is our job to protect humanity, and we failed Anyalasa."

The small boy let go of my leg, took a step back, and cocked his head at Fraschkit. "But why didn't you protect us?"

"Because right now," said Fraschkit, "The Demons are stronger than us."

"And what will you do when there are no humans left to protect?" he asked.

The defeat in his young voice shredded my heart. I side-glanced Fraschkit, but for once, she appeared speechless. Her eyes shone with the same unshed tears that swam in my own vision.

I couldn't let his question go unanswered, so for the second time that day, I found myself making a promise I didn't know how to keep. "That won't happen. Guardians will find a way to protect you. We'll..."

We'll what? Demons now outnumbered and overpowered us. The only thing keeping them from destroying humanity was their need for human 'cows.' If they found a power source to replace humans, Guardians would struggle to defend ourselves, much less protect humans.

My mind drifted back to Isalio's reaction when I had told him about the attack on Anyalasa. While he had not appeared heartbroken, he had certainly seemed unsettled. What would he say if he saw the group of children before me? Did he really approve of all of this?

I needed to stop clinging to the hope that he might be different...but what if that was our only hope?

Fraschkit touched my shoulder and spoke softly. "Come on, Remgar. I'll take you to your father."