“There’s a reason Leegaain had so many disciples and now has Milea. There’s a reason Tyris helped Silverwing and trained Valeron.” Salaark said.
“It’s the same reason I took in the mages like Lith and Balkor that the rest of Mogar considered monsters and gave them a place to stay. A Guardian can’t just hoard knowledge and power for itself.
“We must also share it with those who have the ability to understand it and the wisdom to not abuse it. It’s the only way to affect life on Mogar without intervening directly and stripping people of their free will.
“If you don’t learn this lesson, you’ll end up like the Guardians of Jiera, and whatever place you choose as your turf will suffer the same fate as their own.”
Scarlett put her wounded ego aside and pondered Salaark’s words, comparing the two continents.
Garlen had a troubled history, but between Valeron Griffon founding the Kingdom and Lochra Silverwing creating tier four and five fake magic, the continent had prospered in relative peace.
The people of the Empire and Salaark had followed a mere human’s example, establishing the three Great Countries in less than thirty years and revolutionizing life on Garlen forever.
Silverwing had been just a few centuries old Awakened when she had spread her legacy throughout Mogar, turning fake magic from a dying art into something that could rival the Awakened legacies.
Balkor’s methods were unforgivable, but he had upended the academy system in a little more than ten years. According to Awakened standards, Lith was a runt as well but his contributions to magic already outshone those of most Awakened in the Council.
“I see. With each person you Guardians sponsored on Garlen, you helped your people to take the right path without the need of your direct intervention. If you did, people would have taken it as a divine act and learned nothing.” Scarlett said.
“Exactly.” Salaark nodded. “A Guardian can’t inspire people. We are too powerful, our existence too overbearing to arouse more than despair and subservience. Mortals can only be inspired by other mortals.
“It’s by looking at people like Valeron or Silverwing that the rest of Garlen realized how much a single person can achieve and strived to do the same. It takes but one man to make the impossible possible for countless others to break free from their self-imposed limits and achieve greatness.
“So don’t underestimate Ilyum just because he’s young. I’ve learned about memory crystals from him just like I’ve learned Void Magic from Lith, power cores from Tyris, and Blade Magic from Valeron.
“Mogar is full of lessons that you can learn only if you pull your head out of the sand and look at those around you with an open mind. Jiera was destroyed because its people were blinded by their pride and its Guardians were too self-absorbed to find someone who could inspire the humans.”
Actually, Salaark’s judgment was too harsh. Zagran had sent more than one of her apprentices to stop the plague from being released, but between the language barrier and Jiera being fragmented into many little countries, they hadn’t been enough.
Scarlett nodded and looked at Balkor while also activating Soul Vision and letting the voice of Mogar flow through her. To her eyes, the Blood Magus appeared as a heart-wrenching scene.
The man was replaced by a teen, barely more than a boy, kneeling in a deep puddle of mud and blood. The youth was desperately trying to save the life of the members of his family but there was nothing that healing magic could do to corpses.
His father’s eyes were still open, his gaze fixed in agony from being forced to watch his wife and daughters be defiled while trying to keep his intestines in. He had been gutted like a fish and died bleeding like one.
Balkor’s little brother’s corpse was a broken mess after being trampled to death by horses and then again as a corpse as the raiders escaped from the village before the soldiers could arrive.
The bodies of Balkor’s mother and sisters were naked, full of bruises, and covered in signs that he would never forget. Their throats had been slit to shut them up, making them gurgle in their own blood as the bandits had their way with them.
Scarlett could hear the teen Balkor screaming, she could feel the heat from the houses burning all around him as the place that was supposed to be his safe haven crumbled.
The Sekhmet was the Guardian of the Children and that was Ilyum Balkor had been back then. A child whose innocence had been ripped off from him, whose life had been destroyed out of pure cynical calculation.
Scarlett watched the child turn into a man and the man into the monster that was now standing in front of her. Balkor’s body was rotting, huge chunks of his flesh dangling by a thread of skin.
His eyes burned with the red light of undeath, a clear sign that if the Kingdom had ever succeeded in claiming his life, Baba Yaga would have answered his call and raised him again, giving birth to an even more terrifying existence.
Scarlett saw the countless scars left by the fights back when the Blood Magus could afford to lead his troops and those he had inflicted upon himself by sacrificing his own life force in order to create an army of undead every year for eleven years straight.
Scarlett felt her heart tighten at the vision and even though she knew that at the time she was just the Lord of the White Griffon Forest, she felt guilty.
‘I failed him.’ She thought. ‘If only I spent less time worrying about myself and started my journey to achieve Guardianhood just a few decades ago, I could have protected Balkor.
‘I hated him until now because I couldn’t bear the thought that he lived happily in the Desert while I suffered for his actions yet I now know better. What I went through is nothing compared to him.
‘When he attacked, I was already old and powerful, and I had been forewarned.
“Ours has been a merciless fight but still a fight. What the nobles did to him was a one-sided massacre. They knew that Balkor couldn’t do anything to protect his family and they orchestrated the whole thing to break him.
‘They succeeded, but failed to predict the depths of his genius and rage. I’m no different from the rest of the Kingdom. I paid the price for my own indifference.’
“I did it, Dad! I did it!” A twelve years old boy wearing a deep red mage robe burst through the flaps of the tent. “I got admitted as an apprentice to high-tiered magic. Eylen is not your only disciple now!”
“Good job, Erak. I knew you could do it.” Balkor patted the boy on the shoulder while shaking his hand, his eyes shining with fatherly pride.
“I’m proud of you, son, but you could have waited a few seconds and shared the moment with us.” The flap of the tent opened again, letting a woman and a girl wearing a deep yellow mage robe in.
