It was eight in the morning, but thousands lined up on the streets. The breeze carried the petals from the inauguration trees, their mysterious colors that were only seen every four decades and a half, and that would soon disappear again. Everyone would be an adult by the time they saw them again. But for the moment an unmistakable youth filled the heart of Eliot citizens, the so called “last refuge of humanity”.

Stone-clad streets were filled with rows of people. The militia could barely push back the crowds through the metal fences that separated them from the asphalt. Little by little, in the distance, an enormous vehicle came into view. Surrounded by garlands, filled with golden decorations. Soon, the people were making a deafening noise. If they were lucky enough, they would never see the Guardian so up close again. After all, their workplace was danger. But for now, the Guardian showed their head, draped in robes, and waved its hand at the crowd. 

It was a time of celebration, for the inauguration would commence soon. The children who hung over the shoulders of their parents wore the masks, that the vendors had carefully the IX to after removing the VIII from the ones they hadn’t sold. An entire battalion marched next to the coach. Not that it would be needed, after all, following the selection last year, the new Guardian had trained with the current one until now. And their training would continue until the end of this year.

Slowly, the Guardian turned to see the masses who came to see them. Some threw roses at them, others money, astonishingly, but the most common thing to see fly from every direction was the Clock Flower. The emblematic flower that all Guardian’s bore in their helmets.

And suddenly, they were gone. The coach drove away, more people and flowers waited for it for ahead, and the people behind had already left for the Opening Palace. Everyone would see it at least once in their lifetime but it would never cease to be incredible: The Ceremony, where, surrounded by thousands, the new Guardian revealed their identity and swore to protect the city from the demons that inhabited the ravaged world outside. This was Eliot’s greatest festivity, for the Guardian was its hero, and even more than that: Its hope, humanity’s everlasting answer to annihilation – even stripped off of their world, they thrived, in peace. The Guardian was to make sure it would remain that way.

However, not everyone shared the happiness of such a day.

  Aside from those entrusted with protecting the citizens and keeping order, occupied parents, the sick in the hospitals, boatowners docked in Eliot’s Lake’s Bay, or those busy with their businesses, in Eliot 38^th High School two young men were slowly sliding from their old plastic chair’s backrests in front of the principal’s office.

Both were seeing the festivities from a small tv fixed to the room’s corner, but their low spirits due to being trapped in school were evident. Even more, the sensation of guilt –Hadrian Jackson, as well as Hanlon Hugh, both sixteen years old, were quite conscious that having made a dry ice bomb explode inside an empty locker had not been, and was far from being, the best decision they could’ve taken one day before the Inauguration Ceremony.

The boys shared a pained expression upon meeting their gazes: It was a well-known fact that the Ceremony would only happen twice in a person’s lifetime at most. And they had just lost their first chance to see it.

Finally, and without any resistance, Hadrian allowed himself to hit the floor, his knees going down first, but keeping his eyes glued to the tv screen. Hanlon kept himself on the chair and stared at Hadrian. He thought about doing the same, but for some reason didn’t feel like letting himself go.

For several minutes, the boys had stayed in silence, wallowing in their thoughts. “Damn… Han…”, Hanlon started, but Hadrian suddenly jumped into a stance and placed one of his fingers in Hanlon’s mouth. “Don’t say a word Han, its late, too late” said Hadrian with a remarkably sad tone and his eyes wide open. Hanlon got it. Hadrian was the biggest Guardian fan in all of Eliot – He wanted to be the Guardian, but dreams don’t always come true, and now he wouldn’t see them up close. He would have to wait a long time to experience the ceremony and see the Guardian eye to eye.

Hadrian fought to come to terms with how he felt, for the moment he only wanted to remain in silence while the TV continued its coverage of the event. Meanwhile, the storm of desperation kept growing inside him. Hadrian took his seat again: He was a tall boy, with a golden mane, a characteristic he shared with two thirds of Eliot’s citizens, and at first glance he looked skinny, but those who had the misfortune to face him, knew he had a skill when it came to brawling. That was no surprise to Hanlon, who after witnessing ten years of his fights, was pretty sure fighting him was a bad idea.

The screen showed the crowds outside of the Opening Palace, and Hanlon could observe how Hadrian’s eyes glowed with the same emotion that all kids did when they saw the statues of the previous seven Guardians, and how the new one for the Eight was revealed. Despite trying to avoid it, Hanlon’s mind drifted to his memories – Two kids swearing to become the next Guardian, and how last year, when the Ninth one was announced to have been chosen, they felt how their hearts sunk. Who was he? That was the question that burned on both minds for months, until eventually, it became another disappointment in their lives. He then imagined his classroom, lost in the masses waiting to enter the Palace, and Astraea, in between the group of monastery novices.

Everyone was there, except for them, and their bad decisions.

The Guardian’s coach arrived at the Palace, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Hadrian stood up to observe the new arrival up close, when suddenly the screen went dark. “What the heck!?”, Hadrian screamed with such fury that it made Hanlon shift in his seat. The boy turned his back and saw a third person with the remote control in her hand. Before he could obey his instincts and pummel this person, Hadrian realized it was the principal, and shrunk back into his seat. “I’m sorry, Principal Pont, I was watching that and I…”, Hadrian started spouting his apologies in a hurry, certain that he was in trouble again, but the woman, a lady with a head full of grey hairs and an old beige suit, kept her cool and only sighed. “Sit down Jackson, I wish I was there too, but someone has to take care of this place… And you two – You caused the janitors a lot of trouble, y’know?”. Both teens looked into each other and responded at the same time: “I’m sorry”, with a tone of guilt. The principal barely believed them.

It was almost nine o’clock, and soon the ceremony would reach its peak. It was a tradition that the Guardian began duties depending on his number – The first Guardian took the mantle at 1 A.M., the second at 2 A.M., and so on. To no one’s surprise, it didn’t what hour it was, the ceremony always filled the streets with people.

Hadrian and Hanlon walked through the empty halls when they saw that the janitors had reunited around a small radio to listen the ceremony. For a moment, they considered  joining them, but they were pretty sure that the janitors would recognize them as the ones that had caused all that havoc yesterday. Only they two knew that the bomb didn’t only have dry ice inside. Principal Pont had sent them to the main courtyard to sweep all the dried leaves. In other occasions it would’ve been easy, but this day, both teens swept the floor with sad expressions on their faces. It had to be the biggest punishment in history: Missing the ceremony. And while they did, Hadrian became lost in his memories as well.

…

The history before the foundation of Eliot was confusing. What they were taught in school was rather ambiguous when they really thought about it, and only those with access to the Committee Library knew all the truth about the world, what the old called “Ancient History”.

Some hundreds of years ago, humans had fought a catastrophic war against Demons from the Underworld, but even with their efforts combined they weren’t able to win it. Eliot was founded in a remote place, far away from those demons, with all the resources humans needed. Even so, lost and exiled demons came across the city from time to time. Soon, the Great Committee granted all of their power to a single man, whom they would entrust the survival of the entire human race – the first Guardian, Anton Gill. Anton lost his name that day, but humanity secured an eternal protector, an angel that flew through the skies keeping the demons away. 315 years and seven Guardians later, Hadrian still remembered when he was five years old and saw Matt Herringbone, the Eight, defeat a giant demon the size of a skyscraper in mere minutes, at the outskirts of Eliot, while he was waiting for his parents outside a hospital. From that moment on, he had wished to be the Guardian so much, that he had made everyone tired of listening him. On that inauguration day, he wasn’t thinking on his grades, on the workshop, on his mother, or on Dalia, the girl of his dreams. This day was incredibly frustrating for him, he had never felt something like that before, and it hurt the most because he knew he was being childish.

It the same frustration he saw on his father’s face six years ago, and it wasn’t fair he was feeling it over something like this.

Hanlon swept the other side of the courtyard with calm, they had to resign, it was clear. It didn’t matter anymore. At the other side of the city, the 8^th Guardian passed his powers onto the 9^th, and after that, they would reveal their identity so they could part ways with it. For the rest of the day, Clock Flowers would fill the walls of every building, and an enormous festival would be set on the main streets of the city. At least they weren’t missing on that, maybe Hadrian would see Dalia there. The day wasn’t completely lost.

Hadrian repeated to himself that it would be a good day, until he said it out loud. Hanlon turned to see him, relieved that his friend was coming to terms with the situation. “That’s right, Han” he said, “It’s gonna be a good one… we’ll clean this up, go home, and we’ll meet in the festival at six, Astraea gonna be there. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into Dalia as well”. His friend stared in to the sky. “I hope so Han, I hope so”.

A breeze pushed Hadrian’s bangs away, Hanlon could only place his hand over his shaved cut. “Quite cold, huh?” he said, but both teens shifted their attention away from the weather, when a series of cracking noises were heard behind them. Like footsteps coming closer, behind the tall concrete wall at their backs. The wall separated the school from the wilderness, it stood 20 feet tall and had large yellow fences on top. Suddenly, the teens saw the janitors jumping from their seats and running into the school. As they turned, they saw a single gigantic eye staring at them through the fencing.