The guardian

CHAPTER 12 — The Guardian
The second layer smelled different from the first. Deeper. Older. As if the air had been still for so long it had developed its own weight.
The four advanced slowly. No lights. The violet crystals of the first layer didn't reach here. The darkness was nearly complete except for a faint luminescence coming from the rock walls with no visible source. Enough to see silhouettes. Not enough to see faces.
Zarpon went first. His steps were silent. Calculated.
Behind him, Sira walked with her arms slightly separated from her body. Ready to move. Zarpon had taught her that this was her instinct: to move before the strike landed. Her body was already in that mode even though there was nothing to dodge yet.
Behind Sira, Arlo. Completely silent. With the device in one hand and something smaller in the other that Marek hadn't seen before and that he had clearly built in the workshop without telling anyone.
Marek closed the line. The aura off, but present.
They stopped.
Not because Zarpon signaled. Because they all felt it at the same time.
The air changed. Not in temperature. In density. Like when something very large moves in an enclosed space and the displacement arrives before the sound.
Zarpon raised his fist. The four pressed against the nearest wall.
Darkness. Silence.
Marek held his breath without having decided to. His heart beat with a force that seemed impossible not to hear from outside.
Nothing moved.
Thirty seconds. A minute.
Zarpon slowly lowered his fist. He turned to the three. In the darkness, his yellow eyes were the only visible points of light. He pointed forward.
They continued.
---
They saw him before he saw them. Or so they thought.
Garpon stood in the center of the second layer. Motionless. With his back to them. Tall. His black armor with crimson lines not yet glowing. His arms at his sides. The posture of someone who doesn't need to move to occupy space.
The pedestal of the third layer was visible in the background, behind him, through an opening in the rock.
So close. So far.
Zarpon stopped. The four stopped behind him.
Marek looked at Garpon. Thought of everything Zarpon had told them. A warrior who fights for his identity. More dangerous when threatened.
Zarpon took a step. The rock beneath his boot made a minimal sound.
Garpon spoke without turning.
"Zarpon."
A single word. With the calm of someone who doesn't need to shout because he knows he's being heard.
Marek felt the weight of that word in his chest. He knew they were there. Not from now. From before.
Garpon turned slowly. His crimson eyes found the four in the darkness with an ease that made it clear darkness was no obstacle for him. He looked at them one by one. Without hurry. He stopped at Marek.
"So you brought reinforcements," Garpon said, looking at Zarpon. "Three humans."
"They're not reinforcements," Zarpon said, his voice firm. "They're the team."
Garpon looked at Marek again.
"How old are you?"
Marek didn't answer immediately. The question had caught him off guard.
"Ten," he said.
Garpon processed that.
"And you came to find the Kratar?"
"Yes," Marek said.
"Why?"
Marek looked at him. Thought of Joe. Of the farm. Of the promise.
"Because there are things that need to change," he said.
Garpon looked at him for a moment. Then at Sira. Then at Arlo. His eyes stopped on the device Arlo held in his hand. Arlo didn't hide it. It wouldn't have helped.
"Technology," Garpon said.
"Yes," Arlo said.
"Trinita?"
"Modified," Arlo said.
Garpon looked at him. Something crossed his expression that wasn't exactly interest but wasn't indifference either.
Then he looked at Zarpon.
"You know you can't get past," Garpon said. "And you know you can't beat me." He paused. "So?"
"So we're here anyway," Zarpon said.
Garpon looked at the four of them. The silence of the second layer stretched between them like something occupying physical space.
Marek felt fear in his chest more clearly than ever. He didn't deny it. He didn't try to convince himself it wasn't there. He let it be.
Like a flame.
Like Joe had taught him.
And he waited.
Garpon spoke.
"All right," he said.
And the crimson lines of his armor began to glow.
---
END OF CHAPTER 12