Swept away in a current of rage, the Guardian continued to tighten its cords in a deathgrip around Geran’s chest and throat. With vengeful glee, he watched as the young Prince’s eyes bulged and his body convulsed in an effort to breathe.

Yet, slowly, the words that he’d spoken made their way into the Guardian’s consciousness and it shifted its malevolent gaze to the glowing sapphire, still clutched in Geran’s hand. As the potential formed in the Guardian’s mind…the soul of the King could replace the curse that had been placed on the Forest, its stranglehold on the Prince began to loosen.

Geran gasped raggedly as his chest was allowed to expand again and the Guardian’s burning yellow eyes studied his face, while the color began to return to it.

At last, it spoke. “Your father’s soul to heal the curse on this forest, young Prince…and you as hostage until your people of Anthis rebuild what has been lost here.”