56. The Burden of Becoming.

56. The Burden of Becoming.
~Esmarie Seraphine Vale~

"What exactly do you mean by great evil?" Ciro asked, fists clenched. I sank back into the bed, unable to hold myself upright anymore. 

Just when I had thought that everything was over, just when I had thought that we could all have a moment of peace, this is just had to happen. 

First it was the Guardians refusing to leave and now....

A great evil?

"The Veil didn't specify" Hemne replied." It only stated that Esmarie's future was cloudy. The prophecy wasn't that of words but more of a feeling of impending doom".

The entire room was silent as she spoke. Throne stepped forward to sit by the table. The sudden tension in the room was suffocating, enough for me to feel like I was drowning in air itself. 

"All I could understand was that a great evil was coming and it is closer than we think. Esmarie—" She turned to me, hazel eyes burning with that ever-present spark in her gaze. "—as the last living bloodline of the divine race and the only human guardian alive, you're undoubtedly tasked with a lot of responsibilities. Not just at Ciro's side as his queen but as a Guardian".

"What do you mean?" Ciro asked, unable to hide the dread in his voice. 

"They can sense that something grave is coming. There's something evil among us." Thorne spoke up, his face blank like he was lost in thought. "They need to prepare her for it. She needs to train".

Hemne nodded, face solemn. She walked back to where Thorne sat before placing her hand on his shoulder as if to comfort him.

I just sat there motionless. It felt like my head was about to fill up and explode. In less than three days, my entire world had scattered. Not even in a way I can piece together ever again. 

I didn't understand the circumstances behind anything. Didn't understand why I was born in Earth. Didn't even know who or where my parents were. I was the only one of my race alive. I had just barely escaped being sacrificed by someone whom I had trusted and now I am being told that I have to train to protect the world. 

A world I didn't know about a few months ago.

"Can...," I opened my mouth to speak but the words danced away from my reach. "Can we just slow down first?"

My chest tightened as the words came out in a whisper. The air felt too thick, pressing against my lungs. Making me lightheaded. 

My brain kept replying Hemne’s voice—the mention of evil, the prophecy, the weight of titles that didn’t belong to me.

Heir of Light. Queen. Guardian.

I wasn’t any of those things. I was just… me.

My pulse raced leaving an echo in my ears. Each heartbeat increased in tempo, like my heart was trying to break free from my chest.

The walls felt like they were closing in, my fingers fisted the sheets, knuckles white with terror. 

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself to force my breathing to steady but nothing was working. The large room suddenly felt too small to contain my fear.

"Esmarie?" Ciro called out, his eyes wide as he took in my state. "What's wrong?"

"I can’t—" My words broke as i tried to speak up, trembling. "I don’t understand any of this. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do. You all keep saying these things like I’m meant to be—" I pressed my hands against my temples, my voice rising despite the tremor in it. "I’m not some divine heir! I’m not a savior or some stupid guardian. I don’t even know who I am!"

My breath hitched violently as tears burned behind my eyelids.

Ciro moved before anyone else could speak.

The sound of the chair scraping across the marble startled me, and suddenly he was in front of me—kneeling again, just like before, only this time his face was drawn tight with worry, his eyes storm-dark and soft all at once.

“Esmarie.” His voice was low, steady but it further fuelled my state of panic. I could just imagine it, the look for disappointment on his face when he finally sees that I was nothing. I couldn't do anything. 

Useless.

I shook my head, still gasping for air, words tumbling too fast to form sense. “I can’t—I don’t want this, Ciro, I can’t—please, just—just make it stop, I can’t breathe—I can't breathe—”

And then his hands were on me.

Large, warm palms cupping my face, his thumbs brushing against the tender skin as if he could smooth away the storm beneath it.

“Look at me,” he said firmly. “Esmarie, look at me.”

I forced my gaze up, choking on a breath that didn’t want to come. His eyes locked onto mine, grounding, endless.

“You’re safe,” he murmured, voice dropping to that tone he only used when no one else was meant to hear. “Breathe. With me.”

He took a slow, deliberate breath in—deep enough that I could hear it—and waited. When I didn’t follow, he moved one hand from my cheek to my chest, just above my heart. His palm was solid, steady, guiding.

“Again,” he whispered. “In… and out.”

It took several shaky tries before my breaths began to sync with his. Slow. Controlled. Real.

The ringing in my ears faded, the world stopped spinning, and the panic slowly retreated like a wave.

By the time I realized I was crying, his thumb was already wiping away the tears.

“I’m not ready for this,” I croaked, voice barely audible. “I don’t even know what any of this means. I can’t save anyone. I couldn’t even save myself.”

He didn’t interrupt. He just stayed there, kneeling before me like I was something sacred.

“You don’t have to understand it all now,” he said quietly. “No one expects you to.”

I blinked, surprised at the softness in his tone.

“You think I wasn’t terrified when my father died in war. I was cursed yet still named as the heir to his legacy,” His lips twitched faintly. “I was younger than you, and I didn’t know what I was doing. But I learned despite the hatred from all sides. You will too. And until you do…” —his hand brushed over mine, intertwining our fingers— “…I’ll make sure nothing touches you.”

I swallowed, the lump in my throat too thick to speak around. Hemne watched us quietly, her expression unreadable but not unkind. Thorne looked away, giving us the illusion of privacy.

Ciro finally rose, still holding my hand as if afraid I might fall apart the second he let go.

“Rest,” he said softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll talk about the rest tomorrow.”

And somehow, despite the chaos inside me, I nodded. Because for the first time since all this began—since I’d been told I wasn’t human, since I’d nearly died, since the Guardians had knelt—I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.

Safe.