Crystal Shade Episodes 01

best friend throughout the entire life of the one being guided. Although a guardian spirit on Eecrys Aredia protected all humans, be it an Aserian guardian spirit, spirit animal, or soul, few humans knew what their guardian looked like; her parents were no exception. Even so, they watched over, guided their charges, and rarely showed themselves in their original form.
    Grace always guessed who watched over her parents. Maybe those two eagles, which always soared in the sky above their house, just as they did now. Maybe not, but as for her sister Aurora her guardian spirit was still not revealed to her for the first time. It was a bit strange, but not unusual. Grace knew that the first meeting between her sister and her guardian would be unavoidable. A guardian spirit always waited for the right moment. They had time. Their lives were bound together from Aurora’s birth until her death. It was the way of life.
    What Grace was the most curious about was when her own guardian would reveal herself again and in what form. She didn’t know. Her eyes curiously looked around the garden as she did every morning in the hope that she might see her guardian again, at least for a moment. Only a light breeze blew the small leaves in the garden.
    “Where are you?” she whispered, while her eyes looked for a sign that would betray her guardian; the echo of her Guardian’s spirit and soul, the color that describes the nature that even her guardian can’t deny. Grace knew only the Aserians were able to see the auras, the nature of others from their own realm. As a legend said, during the last Crystal Shade in the battles that raged millennias ago on Eecrys Aredia, the Aserians knew their allies and their enemies with a glance. Grace also knew the Aserians could use their aura to create items, and sometimes life from it as her guardian had made gifts for her many times. Regardless how her guardian mastered this skill, one thing had never changed, the color of her creation.
    The color Grace looked for now was the echo of an adventurer’s soul. A spirit with an inner urge to be creative, active and always enjoyed life to its fullest, loved the challenge and excitement of forming and shaping physical reality; an individual, independent and very capable of integrated physical and mental qualities. At least that’s how the teaching described the nature of this aura color, but Grace didn’t understand the half of it. Not yet. What she knew from the color; her guardian was a strong willed Aserian who loved a challenge. And maybe that’s why the Aserian chose her as Grace’s Guardian. Grace believed she at least, gave her guardian those challenges every day.
    Her eyes watched the different colors of the garden; azure blue, jade green, topaz yellow, amethyst purple were only a very few of the countless color shades. But she looked for one in specific. As the colors gazed back at her, Grace wondered again how it was possible that there were no red, black, or darker colors in the aura spectrum, auras that only shadow darkness, or as the legends said, some hostile thorned flowers, buried forgotten crystals or dense, hot fire had. Of course, flowers and vegetables had these darker colors, like one of the four traditional maizes of Seriana, which was red. But as her parents taught her; the color of the skin doesn’t represent any nature or aura. A material body doesn’t represent the soul and the spirit that resides in it. The existence of these colors, but their lack in the aura spectrum gave Grace the faith to believe that these dark, evil auras once belonged to the souls of the mythical Shaina; the deadly demonic enemies of human and Aserian alike, that they had vanquished during the last Crystal Shade countless millennia ago.
    “There you are,” she whispered as her eyes lit upon an orange jasnaia flower, in full bloom. It stood out among the dozens of sapphire tziavi, - as she called the gracefully beautiful, but defiant thorny flowers, the Flowers of Gracius -, the ones she’d planted with her mother in her own little corner of the garden.
    “You weren’t here before, little flower,” she talked to the full-grown flower, which slowly opened its broad orange petals to greet her on this beautiful day. Grace crouched and smelled the sweet flavor of the jasnaia flower that merged with the atmosphere of the third trimester of the cycles that she always loved.
    As her hand touched the flower, a winged mid-aged woman flashed into