The Last Guardian: Prologue

Prologue

                The brilliant rays of the early morning sun beamed down upon the whole land. With the sky a lucid periwinkle blue, with a couple dots of white clouds here and there. The grass of the land was such an immaculate green; it seemed to sparkle like emeralds under the rays of light. With an occasional breeze ruffling the bottom of the deep green cloak in which he was wearing, the ancient Guardian gazed thoughtfully out at this beautiful land.
The Guardian breathed in the sweet air, his thin chestnut hair rising upward from his forehead as he exhaled. Oh, how this ancient land was still wondrous to him after returning from years of endless travel. How this land of Shëratorí had still not changed, after the dramatic changes that had occurred around it. The human population was growing rapidly, pushing aside the creatures that were growing dimmer and dimmer with time. There were too little lands now like Shëratorí. These are the lands of the angels, but more importantly…the Guardians.
The Guardians, their legacy older then the ancient land itself, are the protectors of lost souls. They have the gift of bringing souls back to life, by one breath. But, of course, there is much more to it then that. But that knowledge is shared among no other then the Guardians. They have existed as extraordinary heroes for centuries. Now though, as the human population blossoms, such beings like the angels and Guardians are finally being forgotten in time.
“Such a peaceful place, over on this side of the mountain.” Said a deep male voice from behind the Guardian. He spun around, his immense chestnut wings rising off his shoulders.
“Peace, Beiones.” The angel said calmly, slowly walking to the side of the ancient Guardian. Who was eyeing him suspiciously through intense, grey eyes.                            
“I received word you have returned,” He continued, glancing at Beiones from the corner of his eye, “Welcome back."
“It is a delight to be here again, Rowån.” Said Beiones tersely, relaxing his posture a bit. “I’m sure it is,” Murmured Rowån. His eyes still fixed on the magical land before them, a lone white eagle screeching from high above. They both stood in silence, Beiones waiting impatiently for Rowån to expose what he had come to him for. For he knew, with his years and years of wisdom, that Rowån did not just come to him to give him welcome.
Rowån sighed out deeply, finally turning toward him. There was a stiff tension between the Guardian and angel as their eyes met. They both were not too different from each other. The Guardian, of course, was far more powerful and superior then he, yet they both were among the same race.
“I have also come to you, Beiones, to speak about the next Passing.” He surveyed him thoughtfully. Beiones, however, had moved his lips into a thin line at his words.             
“As you must have known for some time now,” He continued, shifting from foot to foot, “you have had your duty as Guardian for nearly 237 years.” Rowån met his gaze, trying to depict his expression. But wise as Beiones was, he showed none.
He took in a breath, continuing.   
“We, meaning...the angels, are very interested as to when you be Passing. They believe that is the reason you have returned, as do I.” The lone white eagle screeched once more from above, moving its great white wings effortlessly against the wind. The words of Rowån sunk in, as they both stood in silence. Finally, choosing his words carefully, Beiones spoke again.                                                                                                              
“It is very well in my knowledge that the time has come for a new Guardian to be chosen. However, the powers of the Guardians have long since been fading. By merely Passing, my creation would be in the same state as myself. He may be highly respected in the position he would be in, but not nearly as powerful. When the new Guardian decides to Pass the legacy once more, the power will be even weaker.”
There was silence after this, the breeze blowing gently through the sweet air. It ruffled the light russet feathers of Rowån’s wings, which were folded at his sides.      
“So,” Rowån said carefully, “you are saying that if you Pass, the new Guardian would be just as weak as you are now. And the power will only get weaker.” Beiones nodded grimly at his words. The wind blew again gently, distant cries of other white eagles echoed from the mountains.
            “Unless…” Beiones started, looking suddenly inspired. The other angel’s face flickered with interest, Beiones beginning to pace while suddenly deep in thought. Rowån’s eyebrows rose in surprise as the Guardian began to murmur to himself, too low for the other individual next to him to hear. Minutes passed while Beiones thought, his wise grey eyes focused on the light soil in which they were standing on. He was silent as Rowån waited, rather impatiently, for him to speak again.     
          “Sir?” He finally asked, gazing at him curiously. Beiones looked up, his eyes burning with something Rowån did not recognize. His wings were slightly unfurled, the bright sunlight catching his brilliant chestnut colored wings, giving a reddish glare mixed together.                                                                                                                                “Yes Rowån, I will very well be Passing. I will return to Aqailôs every full moon starting this instant to search. Send my message back to Fickus.” Beiones said at once, his tone and expression unreadable. Rowån blinked, caught very well off guard.                                               
“Yes...Sir,” He responded, suddenly feeling very small before him. Beiones flicked his hands slightly in dismissal, his eyes focused on something Rowån could not see.
With that, Rowån quickly memorized his words. Stepping forward and taking one last glance at the Guardian from the corner of his eye. Without being returned the gaze, he snapped his head back toward the lucid periwinkle blue sky before him, his wings raised. He poised his knees, then swept off the ground with one bound and beat. He was in the air in seconds, flying over the dense mountains and into the vast sky. The white eagle screeched in annoyance as Rowån shot passed it, beating its white wings hard and gazing down the land below. A pure silver fish, the size of a cherry tree’s trunk, appeared briefly under the clear water surface miles below it. Seconds later, it was swishing helplessly in the beak of the eagle. The sun catching the scales as the eagle soared higher, making the fish shine as if it was coated in diamonds as the raptor carried it off to its distant nest.