"And you?" Aerax asked, his gaze fixed on Minoros through the crackling fire in the night.
Minoros did not answer immediately. He turned, his eyes as white as the White Bull's dew, reflecting the firelight, as if holding the ashes of centuries of memories.
A night breeze blew by, carrying the scent of damp forest and a few ashes floating lightly into the air.
"You want to know about me?" Minoros said softly, his voice deep. "Then listen. My story does not begin with victory or glory. It begins with an oath—and a waiting that has no end."
Aerax remained silent, continuing to bury the coals, his eyes never leaving Minoros. Beside them, the skewer of wild boar continued to burn fragrantly.
Minoros continued, his eyes on the dark, moonlit stream.
"I belong to an ancient race – those blessed by the god Krasious himself. We were created not to rule or wage war, but to guard, protect, and preserve his relics. Guardians – unaging, unfailing, and endowed with power beyond mortals."
He paused, looking at his large, calloused hands. "Immortal. But not immortal."
Aerax tilted his head, his hand tightening on the hilt of his horned knife. "You mean…?"
"We do not age, do not get sick, do not decay with time. But we can be killed. And we… can also choose to end our lives."
His voice trailed off.
"In the beginning, there were many of us—nearly a hundred of us, strong and proud. We guarded the gates, patrolled the labyrinth, and stopped the thieves of the blood of the gods. But then the monsters came—one by one, falling from the sky, growing from the forest. Some fell in battle. Some… chose to kill themselves out of sheer boredom. It is not a blessing to live forever, to live to see each one of us go."
Aerax sat still. The story echoed through the night, making him feel small in a world that had turned for so long.
"And now you are alone."
Minoros nodded, pulling the bone knife from his waist, cutting another piece of cooked meat.
"With each passing year, things grow quieter. The drums in the temple have stopped. The songs in the labyrinth have ceased. My duty is only this—to guard the blood of the gods, until someone worthy appears."
Aerax leaned toward him. "And I am that one?"
Minoros looked Aerax in the eye.
"You did not come to steal. You did not panic. You did not crave power for glory. You… were chosen by the gods. And so, I opened the door that no one had passed through for centuries."
Aerax thought for a moment, then said softly, "Then you are no longer the gatekeeper."
"No," Minoros smiled, "I am your companion now."
The two fell silent—the crackling fire, the murmuring stream, the rare sounds of a once-vibrant island.
The firelight illuminated Aerax's tanned skin and Minoros's muscular body, creating flickering shadows that seemed to paint fragments of memory.
Minoros looked up at the sky, where the red moon was beginning to rise above the trees.
"You know," he said, "once upon a time we danced in the vineyards. There was no fighting, no blood. Just music, wine, and life burning in our flesh."
Aerax nodded slightly. "It sounds like a forgotten dream."
"Not forgotten exactly," Minoros said. "Just buried under rocks, waiting for someone to dig it up. Maybe you."
Aerax put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
"If I become a god, I will restore what was lost. No one will ever be alone in the dark, waiting for something that will never come."
Minoros closed his eyes, letting his shoulder rest under the hand. It was not the grip of a warrior—it was the oath of one who could be more.
Another breeze blew, carrying the scent of cooked meat.
They ate in silence, without words, without ceremony. There was only fire, the sound of water, and two once-imprisoned souls slowly entering freedom.
Minoros spoke, as if remembering another piece of the old story:
"You know… after everyone left their positions, I still tried to maintain the ritual. I repainted the patterns on the walls with colored soil. I replaced the paving stones when they fell. I quietly lit the extinguished torches. I did this to remember those who had passed away as well as to keep my faith strong."
Aerax let out a soft breath. "You are living in their place, doing what they could not do."
"Perhaps," Minoros replied, "I am glad that I have fulfilled the wishes of Lord Krasious and all those who have passed away."
Up above, the clouds parted, and the moon grew brighter. The forest seemed to be holding its breath.
Under the pale moonlight, Aerax and Minoros lay beside the dying fire. The surrounding space was quiet, only the murmur of the stream mixed with the gentle wind through the leaves.
The smoke wafted up, mixed with the smell of burnt animal skins and the damp forest, creating a rare, pristine, and peaceful picture.
Minoros leaned against the rock, his large body relaxed after months of heavy responsibilities. The calluses on his hands seemed to mark the time and the long-term mission he had shouldered. His rough white skin still retained strength, but now with a rare serenity.
Aerax lay on his back, his eyes gazing up at the starry night sky. His eyes, which had always been filled with determination, now softened, the shimmering light of the stars reflecting deep within him.
His breathing was steady, blending with the rhythm of the forest night, as if listening to every breath of the earth and time.
Without words, between the two was an invisible understanding — a deep connection between heir and protector, between past and future.
All burdens, all pain temporarily subsided, giving way to peace and preparation for new challenges.
The wind blew, carrying the ashes that drifted lightly into the air, mingling with the smell of earth, fire, and untapped freedom.
Under the vast sky, they lay there, motionless but ready to move on, facing the fate that awaited them.
The quiet night gradually passed, and in that silence, a new journey began, marking the first step of a new journey.