The Silent Guardian — Chapter 18, Part 2: The Anchor

This installment continues The Silent Guardian Series. Previous: Chapter 18, Part 1: The Ceremony.

The congregation ignores the boy’s cries. The Archon stands still as they restrain my younger self in the chair. His panic fills the room. I stand helpless, watching fear consume him.

The Archon begins the procedure. Young Adam cries out, unable to understand why these strangers are hurting him. The sound cuts through me more deeply than I expect.

I have blocked this part of my life out. Watching it now, I see a tragedy unfold—one stitched into my memory. Despite the distance of years, I feel connected to that boy in a way I hadn’t imagined possible. His suffering is my suffering. It cracks something open in me, and tears I hadn’t realized I could shed dampen my skin.

The Archon takes the anchor from Philip, holding the metallic device as if sacred, and implants it in the boy’s arm. The congregation watches without emotion.

The Archon signals to the priest, who steps forward with the heated branding iron and offers it to him. “For the Phylax,” the Archon says.

The ritual continues, sealing the anchor beneath the Mark of the Phylax as the boy struggles against the restraints.

The Archon’s voice cuts through the room. He utters the sacred words in Greek: “Με την πίστη, προστατεύουμε την ανθρωπότητα.” With fidelity, we protect humankind.

The congregation signs back in unison, For the Phylax.

This moment marks the beginning of my training as a Phylax. The anchor and branding are the first layers crafted to bind, control, and forge our identities.

Eventually, the boy loses consciousness. Phantom pain rises in my arm as I instinctively clutch the scar that never really healed.

I think the ceremony is over. I prepare to move forward through time, but I’m wrong. When the boy wakes, the Archon’s assistants approach with a crude collar lined with electrodes.

The Archon steps closer. “From this moment forward, you may no longer speak. If you do, you will regret it. That includes crying, Adam, so I suggest you stop now.” Straightening, he stares down at the boy with contempt. “Never break the silence.”

The congregation signs again, For the Phylax.

The collar enforces the command through painful punishment whenever young Adam makes a sound. Before long, he is overwhelmed and loses consciousness again.

I clutch my own throat as a spectral pressure tightens. So this is how they enforced the oath in my earliest days.

I’m not even sure if I’m capable of speaking anymore. Was the ability to speak taken from me completely? Maybe I’ve been fooling myself into believing my vow was a choice.

Trauma can bury itself so deep that the mind refuses to acknowledge it. It’s locked away, walled off to protect oneself from breaking. The brain decides what must be hidden to survive; however, forgetting isn’t healing. It’s simply a delayed reckoning. Today, the walls have collapsed.

I’ve spent my life thinking my silence was a choice, a discipline I embraced. But here it is—the truth, stripped bare. They conditioned the voice out of me until silence became my world.

My hand claws at the scar on my arm, wishing I could tear away the years of submission and these new memories with it. Unlike when I was a child, I won’t forget this.

I can’t stay here, trapped in this scene. I wipe the tears away. My anger remains even as the edge of panic recedes. I can’t change what they did to me.

As the trembling inside me slows, I shift time forward. There’s one more thing I need to see in this place. One more event I must confront.

I must watch my Temptation.

Continue with Chapter 19, Part 1: The Church. New installments publish daily at 5:00 AM.

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