The Guardians Chronicles

Justin chattered the entire way down the corridor, one of Keira’s bags bumping against his skinny leg as he walked.

“You’re going to love Ylva’s pups,” he said, words tumbling over each other. “They’ve just started to play properly, so they’re all teeth and paws and chaos. You have to be careful, though, their teeth are super sharp. But Ylva keeps them in line. She won’t let them hurt a human. I mean, unless you try to hurt them, and then—”

He paused for breath, only to launch straight into the next thought. “Did I tell you I’m an initiate here? Well, I am.” His chest puffed up. “I’m training to be a healer. Marco and Rafael say I’m going to be the best one yet. I’ve been fixing animals at the ranch since before I knew what I was doing. ‘A natural,’ they said.”

Keira smiled. The energy coming off him was almost dizzying.

“It’s a pity you won’t see the other students,” he went on. “They sent everyone home ‘cause the Council is here. They always do. But Marco said I could stay and then we’ll go back to the ranch later. He doesn’t like me calling him Uncle Marco, though. Just Marco.”

“You’re Marco’s nephew?” Keira asked when she finally found a gap in the flood of words.

“Yes. My mum is—was—” Justin stumbled to a halt. The brightness drained from his face so fast it made Keira’s heart squeeze. His mouth trembled.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, though his eyes were suddenly shiny. “My mum was Marco and Rafael’s sister. She and my dad died in a car crash.”

The simple statement hit harder than any dramatic story.

“I’m so sorry,” Keira said again, and slipped an arm around his narrow shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, voice small but steady. “Marco’s really cool. He looks after me now. We live on this awesome ranch in Argentina when we’re not here. It’s huge. We all go riding and I’ve got my own horse and there are loads of animals and—”

He was off again. Keira let him talk, nodding at the right places. Her heart ached for him, this boy who had clearly decided that relentless enthusiasm was easier than grief. And, under that, a small, uncomfortable thought surfaced:

Maybe I misjudged Marco.

They stopped outside a heavy wooden door. Justin kicked it open with a heel and carried her bag inside.

“Here you go. This is your room. I’ll come get you when we go see the pups, promise.” He grinned at her, already recovering his usual brightness. “Don’t disappear, okay?”

“I’ll be here,” Keira said.

He left with a cheerful wave, closing the door behind him.

Silence fell like a soft blanket.

Keira walked to the leaded windows and looked out over the inner courtyard. Beyond the battlements, the tops of the trees moved in green waves against a dull sky. She rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms, trying to chase away a chill that came out of nowhere.

What am I doing here?

If it weren’t for Victoria—if it weren’t for love and loyalty and the memory of all those childhood afternoons with the old woman’s cool hand on her cheek—Keira might have grabbed the nearest phone and begged someone to come get her.

But Alison was in Canada. Sammy was with her family. Both of them blissfully unaware that the world, apparently, teetered on the brink of magickal war.

Her parents? Richard and Mary? And what would she say?
Hi, so, minor detail: the universe is held together by a force called the Akasha, there’s a war over a time-bending spellbook, and I’m apparently the heir to a priestess throne. Could you swing by the Czech border and pick me up?

She snorted softly at the absurdity of it.

Turning away from the window, she paced past an antique dresser and a big four-poster bed draped in white. Her half-open suitcase lay on the rich blue quilt, clothes spilling out like evidence that she had, in fact, agreed to come here.

She thought about unpacking, then abandoned the idea. Nervous energy wouldn’t let her stand still for more than a heartbeat.

A gentle knock sounded at the door.

“It’s open,” Keira called.

The door eased inward. A blonde head appeared first, then a slender young woman stepped fully into the room, brown eyes sweeping Keira from head to toe with frank assessment.

“Hallo.” Her voice was soft, musical. “I’m Chloe. I wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, thank you, that’s very kind,” Keira said, and stared.

Chloe looked only a couple of years older than her. Skin like fine porcelain, long silver-blonde hair that shimmered as if it held its own light, eyes so clear and steady they were almost hypnotic.

Chloe tilted her head, studying Keira in a way that felt more like reading than looking. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Victoria was right.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Keira blinked.

“You are The One,” Chloe said calmly. No drama or irony. Just absolute certainty.

Keira’s temper, already frayed, sparked. “Yes, well, that’s lovely, but I have no idea what that actually means.”

“Oh, dear. This has been hard on you, hasn’t it?” Chloe crossed to her without hesitation, taking Keira’s hand and guiding her to a plush, wine-red settee. “It wasn’t meant to unfold quite this way,” she said, sitting beside her. “Victoria wanted to ease you into this life. But even so, I’m very glad to finally meet you. Welcome.”

The gentle warmth in her voice knocked loose the last wedge wedging Keira’s emotions in place.

Her throat closed. Her eyes burned. She tried to swallow it all back and failed.

Suddenly she was crying. Not graceful, cinematic tears. Full, ugly sobs.

“I am—so—sorry,” she gasped, swiping at her face with her sleeve.

“It’s all right. Let it out,” Chloe murmured, patting her back in small, rhythmic circles.

That only made it worse. Keira was not used to being comforted. She was used to containing herself, folding every feeling down neatly and locking it away. Even Alison and Sammy rarely saw beyond her cool control. If they could see her now, crumpled and shaking on a velvet settee, they wouldn’t recognise her.

“I’ve—always—been so afraid,” Keira choked out between sobs. “And now I don’t have to be—and I’m happy—and that makes me feel like an idiot—” Another wave hit and dragged her under.

“There, there,” Chloe soothed.

“But I’m so angry,” Keira managed, hiccupping. She took the tissues Chloe offered and blew her nose in a thoroughly un-glamorous honk. “I’m furious. With Victoria. With… everything.”

“I would be too,” Chloe said simply.

“You would?” Keira stared at her, clinging to the idea that someone might actually understand.

“Of course,” Chloe said. “You grew up with power you didn’t understand and had to smother it so people wouldn’t think you were insane. Children can be cruel. Adults, too. You were alone with it for a very long time.”

Her empathy hit so precisely that Keira dissolved again. Years of fear, confusion, shame, resentment—everything she’d so carefully kept under control—poured out in tangled words and heaving sobs.

Chloe just listened. She didn’t offer platitudes or interrupt with advice. She stroked Keira’s back, murmured small, soothing nonsense sounds, and let her fall apart.

Eventually, the storm burnt itself out.

Keira lay sprawled with her head in Chloe’s lap, breath coming in ragged sniffs. The room had dimmed to early evening; shadows stretched longer across the floor. Something inside her felt… cleared out. Raw, yes. But lighter.

She pushed herself upright, wiping stray mascara from under her eyes. “I can’t even begin to thank you,” she said, voice hoarse. “I feel… better. Different. It’s like something’s lifted. I don’t have words for it.”

Chloe smiled. “You’re welcome. Even The One is allowed a breakdown once in a while.”

They looked at each other and, without warning, broke into helpless giggles. Laughter bubbled up, quiet at first, then real, until they were clutching at each other’s arms, breathless.

“Well, well. Seems like you two are having fun,” a dry male voice drawled from the doorway.

Keira looked up, still breathless, and felt heat crawl up her neck.

Marco stood in the doorway. Beside him was a younger man who could have been his reflection—same features, same build, but softer around the eyes.

“Hallo, darling,” Chloe said, launching into another fit of giggles as she rose and glided over to them.

Keira felt a pang of relief when Chloe hugged the man next to Marco. He wrapped his arms around Chloe and kissed her lightly on the temple, his whole face softening.

“Keira, this is my partner, Rafael,” Chloe said happily. “He’s Marco’s brother.”

“Pleased to meet you, Keira,” Rafael said in a warm baritone. “I was looking for you,” he added to Chloe, holding her close. The way they looked at each other was so unguardedly tender that a sharp little twist of envy curled through Keira’s chest.

“We’re going to change,” Marco said. “Victoria asked me to tell you dinner will be in an hour. Formal.” He and Rafael exchanged nearly identical grimaces.

“Oh, don’t be such babies,” Chloe laughed. “It’s not every day we get to dress up.”

“Thanks,” Keira said, acutely aware of her blotchy post-cry face. “I’ll unpack. Try to look human.”

Chloe seemed to catch the direction of her thoughts. “Off you go,” she said, shooing the men away. “We’ll meet you downstairs. Rafael, love, if you see Zina, ask her to come up, please?”

“Will do,” he said, leaning in to kiss her once more before following Marco out.

The door closed and Chloe came back to sit beside Keira. “While we wait for Zina to help you freshen up, do you mind if I tell you my story? How I ended up here?”

“No, I’d like that,” Keira said, surprised she meant it.

Chloe took her hands again, fingers cool and steady. “I grew up in a tiny hamlet in Austria, near Innsbruck,” she began. “I have six older sisters. Four are married with children; the other two still live with my parents.”

“Are they… magickal?” Keira asked.

“No.” Chloe’s smile thinned. “My parents are… very devout. Anything outside their doctrine was considered blasphemy. When I started seeing things that hadn’t happened yet, in nearby villages, on the mountain passe, they were… not pleased.”

“What happened?” Keira asked quietly.

“They ignored it as long as they could. Told me never to speak of it in front of anyone.” Chloe’s gaze went distant. “Then, one autumn, my father decided to take the goats higher up for the last grazing before winter. I Saw a storm coming. A bad one. I begged him not to go but he went anyway.”

She took a breath. “The storm hit. They found him three days later, half-frozen, barely alive. All the goats were dead. The villagers had heard me begging him not to leave, heard me describe exactly what would happen. They said I had called the storm. That I was a witch who’d cursed them.”

“Oh,” Keira whispered. “Chloe… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Chloe said, though her eyes were bright. “It still hurts. I loved those goats. I adored my father. I would have done anything to keep them safe. But fear doesn’t listen to reason.”

“You don’t have to go on,” Keira said. “Really.”

“I want to,” Chloe said. “You need to know you’re not the only one who’s been through hell.”

She straightened a little. “A few weeks later, once he’d recovered, my father packed a small bag and told me to come with him. My mother and sisters turned their backs as we left. We walked to the train station. He didn’t say a word. At the platform, he handed my bag to a woman in a uniform and walked away.”

Keira’s stomach twisted. “He left you there?”

“The woman pulled me onto the train,” Chloe said simply. “I was seven. My parents had given me to the State Orphanage. I stayed there two years.”

Keira swallowed hard. Her own childhood suddenly felt almost idyllic by comparison.

“When I was nine,” Chloe continued, “a couple came to the Orphanage. They said they couldn’t have children, and that they’d been looking for me for a very long time. They were Guardians. They’d found my signature in the Akasha.”

Her expression softened. “They became my parents. From the first day, I was loved. They told me what I had was a gift, not a curse. That I could help protect our world, even if that sounds like something from a storybook. They taught me what they could. Then I came here, to the Initiates’ School. They discovered I was a Seer and trained me for the Draaken. And…” She smiled, all the shadows clearing from her face. “I met Rafael.”

Keira couldn’t help smiling back.

“So,” Chloe said gently, “you see? Some of us had sweet childhoods. Some of us had nightmares. We all came here by different roads, but we’re family now. You’re not alone in this.”

Another knock sounded.

“Come in,” Chloe called.

The door opened to admit a tall, elegant woman. Her skin was deep, luminous ebony, her posture effortlessly regal. Even before she spoke, a sense of calm seemed to enter with her.

“You wanted me, Chloe?” she asked, voice smooth and even.

“Keira, this is Zina,” Chloe said. “Our Healer.”

“It’s very nice to finally meet you,” Zina said warmly.

“You too,” Keira replied, feeling oddly soothed just by standing near her. “Chloe said you might be able to help ‘freshen up.’ I’m not sure anyone can fix this,” she added, gesturing at her still-slightly-puffy face.

Chloe laughed and headed for the door. “I’ll leave you two. I need to go get ready myself. See you at dinner.”

The door closed behind her.

Zina turned back to Keira, eyes kind. “Lie down on the bed,” she said. “Close your eyes.”

Keira hesitated only a moment, then did as she was told. Zina stood beside the bed and lifted her hands, hovering them a few inches above Keira’s face.

“Relax,” Zina murmured.

Warmth bloomed over Keira’s skin—gentle, tingling, like stepping into sunlight after a long time in the cold. A faint scent of peppermint filled the air.

“All done,” Zina said after a minute, lowering her hands and helping Keira sit up.

“Thank you… I think?” Keira said, unsure.

Zina chuckled. “Go look in the mirror.”

Keira crossed to the dresser and stared.

“Oh. Wow,” she breathed.

Her skin was smooth and clear, eyes bright instead of swollen, the dark circles she’d carried for years softened to barely-there shadows. She looked as if she’d had a full night’s sleep and a week at a spa.

“That’s… incredible,” she said, touching her cheek. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Zina moved toward the door. “I’ll see you at dinner, Keira.”

“Thanks again,” Keira called as the door closed.

She turned back to the mirror, studying her transformed reflection.

“It does help to be magickal,” she murmured, and for the first time since boarding the plane, allowed herself a small, genuine smile.