The Guardian’s Promise

The next morning, after completing his daily rituals, Reuben stepped into his office with a quiet sense of resolve. He sat at his desk, opened his laptop, and typed out a reply to Elora Vyshaan—finally confirming what he’d spent months pondering.

He was ready.

Ready to accept the urn. Ready to welcome this mysterious new being—the first of its kind—into his life. And if the offer still stood, he was willing to become its guardian.

As he clicked send, the weight of the moment settled over him. This wasn’t just another magical artifact, another strange encounter. This was another child. Another responsibility. Another life that would soon be entwined with his.

And he was at peace with that.

Less than an hour later, the familiar flicker of blue and green light danced across the front windows of The Mystic Herb. Then, with the soft chime of the doorbell, Elora Vyshaan stepped inside.

Reuben met her with a smile, nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Elora—welcome back. That was… fast.”

She returned the smile with her usual serene warmth. “Of course. How have you been? It’s been a few months. I was so happy to receive your email.”

“Busy,” Reuben replied, brushing his palms down his sides, “but good. A lot has changed. I’ve made some new choices and—with Ryder, Evan, and now a new apprentice on the way—we’re finally in a place where we’re ready to take this on.”

Elora’s eyes brightened. “I’m so glad to hear that. The urn is still steeping, of course. Since this is the first Ydra I’ve ever crafted, I can’t say for certain how long it will take to form. Likely several more months—perhaps longer.”

She paused, then added, “But I’m pleased to hear you’re willing to be Earth’s first guardian.”

Reuben blinked. “Earth’s?”

Elora chuckled lightly. “Yes. I mentioned Alvoria, didn’t I? I was born and trained there. Alvoria exists in a dimension parallel to this one—rich in magic, cloaked in ancient power. Some witches and wizards, myself included, have been granted permission to cross between the two. Here on Earth, only a handful of us act as stewards of that magic.”

She looked at him more intently now. “The reason I chose you, Reuben, is because you’re grounded. You’re not a sorcerer or a spellcaster—you’re a mundane who understands magic with reverence and heart. You’ve already raised one extraordinary being. You have a steady presence. And a family that clearly cares.”

Reuben nodded slowly, absorbing every word. “I… see,” he said, though truthfully, he was still catching up.

“I want to thank you,” Elora said softly. “I know this wasn’t an easy decision, but I’m honored to entrust this to you.”

She waved her hand, and in an instant, the golden urn appeared on the counter once again—its delicate cherry blossom motifs shining in the shop’s filtered light. Warmth pulsed from it, faint but steady.

Reuben stepped forward and ran his fingers along its gleaming surface for the first time. It felt alive, almost humming with magic beneath his touch. The gold shimmered faintly, responding to him. He was suddenly filled with a new sense of purpose and determination.

“No,” he said with a smile, “thank you—for trusting me with something so rare. I’m honored to be chosen, and I’m ready to see this through.”

“You’ll do wonderfully,” Elora said with a bittersweet smile. “If possible, I’d love the occasional update. And should anything ever go wrong—anything at all—reach out. I’ll always answer.”

“I will,” Reuben promised. “You have my word.”

She gave the urn one last look, and for a moment, her eyes misted. “Then I’ll take my leave. Good luck, Reuben. Truly.”

And with another soft pulse of light—blue and green swirling like silk in the air—she vanished.

Reuben stood there in the stillness of the shop, alone now with the urn. He picked it up gently and brought it back to his office, placing it on his desk with care.

The same desk where, years before, he’d held Ryder’s Visible Imagination essence for the first time.

His throat tightened with memory.

Back then, he had no idea what he was doing. No clue how deeply that moment would shape the course of his life. And now, here he was again—on the edge of something just as life-changing.

A quiet tear slipped down his cheek as he sat in the chair and looked at the urn and opened its top, the smoky magic inside casting a faint rose-gold light across his face.

This, he thought, is the start of something beautiful. Again.