Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The Guardian of Order finished sealing the fissure in the human world.
With his hands pressed against the classroom wall, no visible trace remained of the rift that had spawned the chaos.
The Guardian of Oblivion watched in silence, attentive to the humans who remained in the room.
Paramedics had already arrived, attributing the event to a gas leak, just as he had planted in their memories.
“Do you have any idea what happened, Guardian of Oblivion?” the Guardian of Order asked, approaching him. He was visibly exhausted, as closing the rift had required considerable effort.
“In my memories, nothing like this has occurred, not even in the Ancient Order… but of course, there were more Guardians back then,” the child replied with a worried expression.
“I believe the progressive weakening of the bond between A’aru and the human world has made certain points of our connection fragile.
The Shadows are opportunists; perhaps they saw in this break the possibility of re-occupying the human world. ”
“Shadows have always slipped into the human dimension on a small scale,” the Guardian of Order said. “Never have they attempted an entry so massive.”
“You are mistaken,” the child countered. “There was a time when the Shadows were part of the world.”
“I have seen nothing of that in the books of our library—”
“That is because the books that survived do not tell the full story,” the Guardian of Oblivion interrupted.
“In the Ancient Order, the union between A’aru and the human dimension was robust, and there was a complex governance of all the Guardians of A’aru that included the existence of other creatures.
It was a richer ecosystem than the current one. ”
“If the connection between A’aru and the human world was stronger in the Ancient Order, perhaps we should attempt to re-establish what strengthened it,” the Guardian of Order suggested.
The boy smiled, but his gaze was sharp. “It is ironic that you are the one suggesting such a thing, when you were the primary architect of its elimination. Ask no more. Past ages were consigned to oblivion for a good reason.”
“But it is important to know this information to understand what is occurring now,” the Guardian of Order argued.
“My sovereignty, my decision.”
With those words, the Guardian of Oblivion invoked the authority of his domain, and the discussion was forced to an end.
* * *
Although several hours had already passed, Augustine still couldn’t shake the cold sensation of death that had embraced her when Oblivion tried to take her mind.
Alone in her room, she replayed that morning’s events over and over, too frightened to sleep even though it was already late at night.
Alderian had left her shortly after they arrived home, and it was clear he was not in a good state after the feat of moving her away from danger, yet he had not complained for a single moment.
The thought that she had been so close to a member of the High Council overwhelmed her.
His power had felt crushing and absolute, making her understand that her anomaly could bring ruin not only to herself but to Alderian as well.
But why? Why was all contact forbidden in such a foreboding way?
For days, a glimmer of doubt had been circling her thoughts, growing clearer each time.
Why were humans able to depict angels in so many ancient works, even mentioning them in religious texts, if contact with them was supposed to be impossible?
Something didn’t add up. She sat in front of the computer and typed a few words into the search engine.
Anyone seeing her at that moment would think she had developed a sudden interest in art, with various artworks displayed on the screen that all shared something in common: in all of them, angels appeared alongside humans, and in some, there was even physical contact between them.
There were even myths that spoke of romantic relationships with such beings, leaving her to wonder if it was all a mere product of human imagination, or if there had been a time when that contact was real.
Augustine stood up and paced nervously around the room.
Each time she turned, the computer screen was at her back, but she inevitably looked at it again, where the photograph of Psyché et l’Amour by William Bouguereau remained open and insistent.
She knew the myth well—a woman falls in love with Cupid, who visits her every night and loves her without ever showing his face.
It was a love story doomed from the start, but Augustine was only interested in one detail: in that tale, physical contact between a winged being and a human was real.
And she couldn’t lie to herself; she wanted to believe it was possible.
At that very moment, Alderian was somewhere in this universe, not as an illusion or a mirage, but an Alderian with a real, tangible body.
Elarión had even mentioned he was in a palace, meaning he wasn’t in an abstract place, but in a very concrete site.
Could there be some way to reach him? The rift from that morning had shown her that the passage between dimensions was not a fantasy.
Dangerous ideas in perilous times. She shouldn’t push her desires in that direction, but the experience of nearly losing her memories of Alderian completely made her suddenly aware of how little time they might have together.
She didn’t want to leave her human existence and forget him without having been able to even stroke his face just once—not in dreams, a reality created by her own brain, but for real.
Augustine leaned out the window, seeking fresh air as she felt her clothes sticking to her skin, her body sweaty and uncomfortable.
Then she saw him. There was someone standing in front of her house, though she couldn’t quite make him out because as soon as she appeared at the window, the figure turned around and walked away briskly.
But... was that Milán?