As we passed through the portal left by the old Warden, the boy was still in a semi-conscious state, and I had to carry him in my arms. It was not difficult, for he was very thin. We found ourselves in the Borderlands, a place where all worlds intersect, and from where each of the Pillars draws its energy. This was also the home of the one who watches over the boundaries of worlds; now it was Tadeus's turn to become him.
“This will be your new home,” I whispered, cradling Tadeus in my arms. “I will tell you everything, provide you with all the necessary books, and you will be able to live a long, albeit challenging, but interesting life just like your predecessor.”
“Where are we?” Tadeus stirred.
“In the Borderlands.”
“And where is that? Is it behind that rock where we saw the old man?”
“Not exactly,” I said, setting the child on his feet in a field filled with a myriad of flowers in every possible shade.
We looked completely out of place here—an adult man in fur clothing and armor alongside a boy in a rabbit fur coat and warm boots, both wearing hats with turn-ups and scarves that covered everything but our eyes.
“It’s so beautiful and warm here,” the boy marveled.
“It’s always like this. Almost always… I think you’ll like it here, and over there is where we will live,” I said, pointing to a house standing amidst this wonderful meadow.
Thus, Tadeus and I found shelter for the next three years in a place where it was always summer, birds sang, and it seemed that goodness ruled the world. My task during this time was to awaken in young Tadeus all the knowledge of the previous Wardens of the Borderlands, teach him the ancient languages, how to draw energy, and how to transform it into power. After that, I would need to leave this place for many decades until the need for a new Warden arose.
“Um… excuse me,” Tadeus addressed me, “I still don’t know your name.”
It seemed like such a simple question for a child to ask, but what could I say when I had no name? When it was asked of me for the first time, I was taken aback, but now, without hesitation, I began my explanation:
“I don’t have a personal name; I only have one that signifies my essence and my power. Everyone calls me the Keeper, so please call me that or Teacher, if you prefer. You should also know that my appearance and gender are not permanent; they depend on the world I am in and my desires. However, over time, you will learn to find me everywhere and recognize me, as you will learn to see not the shell but my true essence.”
“Keeper, why did you bring me here? Who was that old man, and what happened to him?”
“I will answer all your questions, but let’s first go inside, eat, and rest a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, to be honest, I’m very hungry,” my new pupil said, making a grimace.
Such children as he were rare—small and quick, who, within a few days, cease to fear you and open themselves to new experiences. They do not attempt to run away or resist the power locked within them. I already understood that these years with Tadeus would pass for me in just a few days, and soon I would have to say goodbye. This child would forever be etched in my memory, just like another boy who came into my life several centuries ago. Back then, I had first formed an attachment to a child and perceived him not just as a task but as a living being with feelings and emotions, like a son... For which we both paid dearly. How young and carefree I had been then.
Emil was a very cheerful and energetic boy, his blood boiling like water in a pot over an open flame. I found him when he was 18. He grasped the fundamentals quickly and was eager for new knowledge. Within a year, he had mastered the art of energy transformation, and a year and a half later, the separation of mind from body. His incredible successes amazed and terrified me simultaneously. No one before him had absorbed knowledge so quickly, and by the end of the second year, Emil had become a full-fledged Warden of the Borderlands. Trusting my pupil and his independence, I was able to leave the Borderlands and venture into the Outer Worlds for work without fear that something might go wrong.
On one such day, returning home from the Outer World, I saw a girl in travel clothes emerge from the courtyard. I knew that an enemy would hardly invade such a well-guarded home; no fortress possessed such defenses as our citadel shared with Emil. I personally oversaw all protective enchantments laid upon it.
“Was that the Guard?” I asked Emil as I removed my cloak.
“Uh-huh,” Emil replied, a bit embarrassed. “She brought you letters.”
“Understood,” I said, not paying much attention to Emil’s embarrassment as I went to sort through the letters. If only I had known how the subsequent events would unfold, I would have paid more attention to what seemed like trivial details—intonations, embarrassment—but at that moment, I was almost as inexperienced in this regard as my pupil.
"The sun is setting, I'm going to the garden."
"Yeah," I murmured without lifting my eyes from the letters.
Emil always performed his duties with eagerness and dedication; it was a pleasure to watch him. After stepping into the garden fifteen minutes later, I found him exactly as it should be—inside a circle inscribed with pictograms, runes, and hieroglyphs. The Warden must greet each dawn with mantras and bid farewell to the sun at sunset; during these moments, the energy of all worlds intertwines in the Borderlands, and the Warden collects it. Inside the circle, the Warden can separate their physical body from their mental one. The physical body remains motionless within the circle, while the mental one repairs breaches in the worlds and fortifies their borders. Without a Warden, the worlds would begin to merge, and living beings from one world would spill into another. This would lead to extinction, as some worlds are inhabited by extremely aggressive beings who know nothing but killing and are always waiting for the borders of the worlds to weaken or fall.
As the last rays of the setting sun faded, Emil’s soul returned to his body. He took a deep breath and stood up, stepping out of the circle.
“Good job, Emil,” I said, patting the boy on the shoulder.
“Thank you, Keeper, it’s all thanks to you. You’re an excellent teacher.”
“Let’s go have dinner; I have news for you,” I replied.
We sat in the dining room, although it was difficult to call it that. All the rooms in the house resembled a library, but the dining room had a large table, and the bedrooms contained beds. Everywhere were massive shelves filled with books—big and small, old and new. These books held the knowledge of all worlds, detailing their inhabitants and the forces governing them.
“Emil, you are doing very well with your duties as a Warden,” I began. “Soon, you won’t need me at all.”
“What are you saying, Keeper? There’s so much I still don’t know. How can I do this without you?”
“In a couple of months, I will need to leave frequently for other worlds. The Moiras are already at their limit; I need to seek successors for them.”
“Are you talking about the Moira sisters?”
“Yes,” I sighed. “I thought the old ones would last at least another five years; in that time, I could finish your training. But the Inner Worlds are very unsettled right now—people are at war, which is adding to the Moiras’ workload. Therefore, I implore you to be exceptionally careful and diligent in your training and responsibilities. Over the next few months, I will show you the most important protective spells and offensive spells. And perhaps it would be wise to show you how to use weapons.”
“But is it possible that I will need offensive spells and weapons? The Borderlands are hidden from everyone.”
“Yes, my boy, the Borderlands are hidden, but you forget the most important truth about why this world is called so—it borders all worlds, and if you weaken or lose vigilance, the borders may wear thin and disappear.”
“That can’t happen,” Emil laughed. “I’m watching over everything; the borders are as solid as steel; no one can even approach them.”
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“I hope that remains true. You’re doing great; you’ll be the best Warden.”
The events that followed proved that Emil would indeed become the strongest Warden; after him, there would be none like him again, but the price he paid was far too high.
The couple of months leading up to the search for the Moiras were tense for both Emil and me. Right after the morning mantra and border checks, we would sit down with books and scrolls. After sunset, when Emil could finally leave the circle of Elliarma, where the mantras were recited, we would practice with weapons so that my pupil could defend himself if necessary.
Due to the increased correspondence, one of the Guards—Adelin—became a frequent visitor to our home. I was glad Emil would have someone to talk to when I would be away for long periods, but I hadn’t considered that Emil was a young man, and Adelin was a young and attractive woman.
After my first short absence in search of the Moiras, I noticed Emil and Adelin in the garden. The girl’s cheeks were as red as a field poppy, her eyes sparkled, and she held a rose that Emil had clearly created, as flowers of such exquisite beauty did not grow in our garden. Upon noticing me, the girl immediately flitted away like a frightened bird, not even greeting me. Emil, although noticeably nervous, tried to maintain his composure.
“Adelin brought you the letters. How are the searches for the sisters going?” Emil asked, trying to steady his breath.
“She left so quickly; I thought she would have lunch with us,” I replied, a bit taken aback by Adelin's behavior.
“Oh, I think she has a lot to do; that’s why she rushed off,” Emil mumbled, staring at his sandals.
“Look at me, boy,” I said softly and gently. “You remember that you are the Warden, and your job is essential; lives depend on it, many lives?”
“Yes, of course, I remember, Keeper. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just saying that your work should always come first. You bear a great responsibility.”
I should have elaborated on this conversation, emphasizing that Emil needed to be more attentive and suggesting that the Ministry replace our Guard with a man. But I was too careless, relying on Emil as an adult rather than recognizing him as a young and inexperienced boy. This was my mistake, one that would affect the lives of all three of us.
Right under my nose, Emil had fallen in love with Adelin, and I noticed it far too late. He continued to carry out all his duties exceptionally well, but during the translations of the tablets, I began to notice delays and minor inaccuracies. I did everything I could to postpone my departure to search for the sisters, but time moves on in all worlds, and it is equally relentless in the Outer and Inner Worlds as it is in the Borderlands. The Moiras were at their limits.
As I prepared to leave, I felt deeply uncomfortable and utterly disoriented—something I hadn’t experienced since the day I could remember.
“Emil, I will be gone for two weeks. You must adhere to all the rituals; this is very important. I’m repeating myself again. You are the best of my students, and I believe in your strength and abilities. If anything seems off, or if you notice any oddities, send the Guard to me immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes, teacher. Don’t worry; everything will be fine; after all, it’s just two weeks,” my pupil said with a smile.
By the evening of that same day, I left the Borderlands. I decided that I must do everything in my power to expedite the search and return sooner. I walked day and night, resting only for a couple of hours whenever I was utterly exhausted. Yet despite all my efforts, I managed to shorten the two weeks by only two days. I took the children to the active Moiras, and there I noticed that the borders of the worlds seemed to vibrate slightly, and upon closer inspection, I could see minor weariness beginning to appear along them. This was a terrible sign, and I rushed home, hurrying to reach Emil. If only I could have cut my search short by just one more day, half a day, or at least a couple of hours—everything would have been different. But even I am not the master of Fate.
As I approached the Borderlands, I already realized that misfortune had befallen us; the walls of the world were torn.
I burst through one of those breaches and momentarily lost my voice at the sight before me, a lump forming in my throat. In the middle of the beautiful flower meadow where I had once spent time with my students stood an enormous spear, and on that spear, like a tiny butterfly in a twisted entomologist’s collection, hung Adelin. The spear had pierced her chest completely, greedily embedding itself in the ground almost to the hilt, her eyes frozen in a gaze towards the sky. Nearby, kneeling with his head bowed in despair, was Emil, covered in blood. Above him loomed a massive creature with orange fangs and blue-brown spotted skin, raising its sword high.
Without hesitation, I drew my knife and hurled it at the monster's head standing over Emil. I didn’t know if my student was alive, but I hoped with all my might that he was. I ran toward him, shouting,
“Emil, my boy, can you hear me? Emil!”
In response, all I heard was a growl from behind. At that moment, I didn’t even consider that the brown monster hadn’t come alone. This was my first direct encounter with the Zhihan race—monsters that thrive on seeking breaches and invading foreign worlds, where they wreak havoc and bring death and destruction.
I couldn’t fully focus on the enemy because there, in the meadow, stood my Emil, perhaps still alive. Rage filled me to the brim, and without realizing what I was doing, I began to transform into a beast, no less fearsome than the Zhihan. One of the entities imprisoned within me began to take over, and the carefully constructed illusion I had maintained for so long started to crumble. My blue eyes shifted to yellow, those that see the truth in souls, and my hair began to grow and turn gray before my very eyes. But even before I fully returned to my true form, all the enemies were defeated, their decapitated bodies lying in grotesque poses around the clearing. I rushed to Emil, dropping to my knees in front of him.
“Emil, Emil, can you hear me? Say something!” I shouted, gripping his shoulders. He seemed to still be alive, but his breath was too weak.
There was no time to waste; if those creatures had already breached here, we were all in danger. Scooping Emil into my arms, I ran to the house, knowing I needed to restore the boundaries first and then tend to everything else. I carried my student into the circle of Ellyarma, laying him gently at its center. I began to chant the mantras, praying that he would hold on long enough for me to close the breaches.
Never before had such despair overwhelmed me as it did that day. I recited the mantras with fervor, pouring nearly all my remaining energy into the incantations. At that moment, I realized that this boy was not just my student; I loved him as a son, a son I could never have. The universe, in its mercy, allowed Emil to linger with me a while longer.
Once the boundaries were restored, I carefully lifted my son from the circle and laid him in his bed. It took three days and all my remaining energy for Emil to finally open his eyes. The first word he uttered, as he slowly parted his pale, feverish lips, turned my stomach into a mass of stones.
“Adelin, Adi…” he whispered, barely able to move.
“It’s all right, my boy, it’s all right,” I soothed him, placing a reassuring hand on his forehead. “You just need to rest a bit longer. I’m right here; everything will be fine.”
The next time Emil opened his eyes was two days later. During that entire time, I had to fill in for him, but since this was not my true purpose, I struggled immensely with the task. I had the knowledge, but my vessel was filled with something entirely different, and I couldn't fully take the Warden's place.
Once Emil regained consciousness and managed to stand, he immediately went to the circle, despite my protests. My child had changed; he was no longer the cheerful, carefree boy he once was. In a matter of days, it felt as though he had aged beyond his years. Nothing interested him anymore except for books and mantras. He never left the house, nor did he step onto the meadow outside. He was alive on the outside but dead within; he had perished that day on the meadow along with his first and only love, Adelin.
I tried many times to talk to him about it, but my efforts never succeeded. He would simply wave me off and retreat to the garden, which was now filled with roses—those same ones I first saw in Adeline’s hands when she was so quickly leaving our, at that time, carefree home.
Just before his death, when I brought a new child for the shift, Emil finally told me what had happened that fateful day.
"You know, Keeper, I loved her. I fell in love with her the moment I first saw her holding those letters. I still can’t forgive myself for that day. If I hadn’t been so captivated, I might have remembered my duties, and maybe then she would still be alive."
"Don’t blame yourself; what happened cannot be undone," I replied gently, trying to soothe him.
"When you left to find the Moires, she came back a few days later, just as she always did. We were so wrapped up in each other, in our conversations, that I completely lost track of the sunrises and sunsets. At that moment, for me, there was only her and her tea-colored eyes. Looking into them made me forget how to breathe, and I was drawn deeper and deeper into her.
When I realized that I hadn't been in the circle for several days, it was already too late—a breach had formed in our world, and those dreadful creatures were pouring through it. Adelin told me that her duty was to protect the worlds whenever breaches appeared; that was her purpose. She grasped her weapon and wanted to go and fend off the invasion. I tried with all my might to hold her back, but it was in vain. I cast more and more protective spells around us, but the enemies were too many. While I was occupied with magic, Adelin stepped in front of me to shield me.
Then everything happened so fast. I only saw the creature throw something huge in our direction; it was flying straight at me. I closed my eyes, bracing for death, but nothing happened. I wish it had been me. Adi shielded me with her body, and the spear pierced her chest, pinning her to the ground. After that, everything was like a dream. I remember the blood, and I remember you calling out to me... And when I came again..." A solitary tear rolled down his cheek, now old and hopelessly lonely. "She… she was gone, no longer with us, in this world or any other. That day, I promised myself that I would never again put anyone in danger. I don’t want anyone to lose their life because of me and my foolishness. I think I’ve kept that promise. For myself, I kept only the roses; they brought me comfort, the roses that my Adi loved so much."
Listening to Emil’s story after all these years, my heart broke all over again, just as it had on that cursed day. He truly kept the vow he made to himself; he dedicated his life to his mission, to being the Warden. Because of him, many new books filled with vital knowledge were created, and our garden was adorned with roses.
"What beautiful flowers, Keeper," said Todeus, touching the roses at the entrance and interrupting my memories. "Did you plant them?"
"No, not me. They were planted here long ago by someone very dear to me."
Todeus stared at me with curious eyes for a few seconds, but then a bright butterfly flew into his field of vision, and he ran after it. How wonderful it is to be a child; a bright butterfly is enough to forget everything.