The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in streaks of bruised orange and deep violet. Gerie sat on the weathered wooden bench behind the building, watching the skeletal figure he had called stand motionless at the edge of the clearing — silent, steady, a guardian pulled from the dust of a century past. He had sent it back an hour ago, but the image lingered, burned into his mind.
You did well, the cat said from where it lay stretched out on the bench beside him, belly exposed to the last warmth of the sun, paws tucked neatly beneath its chin. For a beginner. You did not shout. You did not tremble. You simply… were. That is rare.
Gerie looked down at it, a faint smile touching his lips. "Rare?"
Most who carry this power — or try to — treat it like a weapon. A tool. Something to be wielded and thrown away. They scream commands and demand obedience, and wonder why the dead turn on them. The cat opened one golden eye, then the other, its gaze heavy with centuries. The dead do not take orders. They remember respect.
Gerie leaned back against the bench, his hand resting over his chest. The mark was warm, content, a steady pulse beneath his shirt. "You've seen it before, haven't you? Others like me."
The cat closed its eyes again, and for a long moment, it said nothing. The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and damp earth. When it spoke, its voice was quieter, stripped of its usual sharpness.
I have seen many. Some good. Some cruel. Some terrified. They all carried the same mark. They all bore the same weight. And they all… It trailed off, tail giving a single, sharp flick. They all fell.
Gerie's chest tightened. "What happened to them?"
They tried to climb too high too fast. They tried to become kings instead of guardians. They forgot that the power is not theirs to own — it is theirs to carry. The cat stood, stretched its long, powerful body, and leaped down to sit before him, golden eyes serious and unwavering. And when they fell… they took everything with them. The old ways. The old truths. The peace that once existed between the living and the dead.
"Why did you stay?" Gerie asked softly. "Why wait all this time?"
The cat turned its head, looking toward the horizon where the sun was disappearing.
Because someone had to. Because if no one remembered, then it would truly be gone forever. It looked back at him, and for a heartbeat, Gerie saw something ancient and achingly lonely in those eyes. And then you came. Quiet. Unassuming. Completely unaware of what you carried. And the mark woke up. And so did I.
The moment stretched, heavy with history. Then the cat shook itself, the solemnity vanishing as if it had never been, replaced by its usual imperious air.
But enough of this melancholy. It is bad for my digestion. And all this reminiscing has made me ravenous. It walked over to Gerie's leg, rubbed its head against it once, then sat down and stared up at him with unblinking expectation. Dinner time. And I hope you have prepared something worthy of my status. I will not be satisfied with scraps tonight. I require… variety.
Gerie laughed, the sound breaking the weight of the moment. "Variety. Of course. How does roasted chicken and fresh fish sound?"
Acceptable, the cat said with a nod of its head. But do not overcook the chicken. I have standards. And do not forget the water. Fresh. Not that stale stuff you gave me yesterday.
"Your standards are very high," Gerie said, standing up and dusting off his pants.
And they should be, the cat replied, walking beside him with that slow, regal grace. I am not a common house cat, Gerie. I am the last guardian of the last vessel. That deserves the best. Or at least… better than average.
As they walked back toward the building, Gerie's hand rested on his chest, feeling the mark burn warm and steady. He didn't know what the future held. He didn't know if he would fall like the others before him. But he knew one thing — he wasn't walking that path alone. Beside him walked pride, history, and a very demanding companion who would undoubtedly save his life one day… after being fed first.
"Fine," Gerie said, smiling. "Chicken, fish, fresh water. And maybe a little extra treat."
The cat purred — a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air.
You are learning, it said. You are finally learning.