Undeserving Humans

Hiller stood on the balcony of the Celestial Palace, his gaze fixed on the vast expanse of stars stretching beyond the Supreme Realm. Here, amidst the silence and swirling light of the cosmos, he felt both a deep pride and a subtle pang of isolation.

Since his coronation, he had stepped fully into his father's role, leading the Guardians and overseeing the realms with wisdom and strength. But even the boundless celestial vistas could not fill the hollowness that crept in, a quiet loneliness that grew in the stillness of his nights.

He had always known the price of power, had been raised to bear it, but this did not make the burden lighter. Every decision rested solely on his shoulders, every outcome his responsibility to carry. The Guardians revered him, the realm respected him, yet he was apart from them, a leader both exalted and isolated.

His closest friend, Aurora, whom he trusted like no other, was seldom here. She was stationed in the human realm, fulfilling her role as Guardian, watching over the mortals who moved through their fleeting lives unaware of the forces protecting them. He caught glimpses of her now and then, felt the strength of her loyalty and dedication. They would exchange words when she could, and he cherished those brief moments, yet they only served to deepen his longing.

Sighing, he turned his gaze downward, to the mortal world spread out beneath him. The humans below, so fragile and flawed, moved through their lives oblivious to the cosmic battles fought on their behalf. Hiller had observed them often, wondering what drew the Guardians so close to them, what tethered their loyalty so deeply. Humans made mistakes, caused their own suffering, and brought ruin upon each other, seemingly blind to the repercussions of their actions.

He thought back to a conversation he'd once had with his father, the Supreme Lord, long before his coronation. They had stood on this very balcony, watching the mortal world below.

"Humans are capable of both creation and destruction, Hiller," his father had said, his voice resonant and warm. "They walk a thin line between greatness and ruin. That is why we guard them, why we give them the chance to grow, to become more than they are."

"But they bring harm to themselves," Hiller had countered, his young voice full of conviction. "They make war, kill each other, hate on themselves, they destroy their lands…they disrupt the balance. And they even make weapons that could wipe a whole country out. "

"They do," his father had admitted. "But they are also capable of love, sacrifice, and kindness. In their fleeting lives, they hold a spark of something pure, something worth protecting. And as Guardians, it is our duty to nurture that spark."

Hiller had accepted those words then, trusting in his father's wisdom. But as he watched humanity from his throne, doubts occasionally crept in. His father's final battle with the Evil Supreme had left wounds that would take centuries to heal. Hiller had vowed to uphold his legacy, to guard the realms and keep the balance, but he couldn't help wondering if humans were truly deserving of the sacrifices made for them.

The palace doors opened quietly behind him, and he turned to see one of the High Guardians, Marik, standing there with a respectful bow. "My lord, the council is assembled and awaits your presence."

Hiller nodded, pulling himself from his thoughts. The council meetings had become a regular occurrence since his coronation, each gathering a reminder of the weight he bore as Supreme Leader. He followed Marik into the grand council chamber, where the Guardians and high-ranking leaders waited. They all rose as he entered, their faces solemn, their loyalty evident.

Hiller took his place at the head of the long, celestial table, a polished slab of starlight marble that gleamed beneath the soft glow of suspended orbs of light. He inclined his head, signaling the others to be seated.

The meeting commenced, each Guardian and dignitary reporting on the state of their assigned realms and duties. They discussed the status of the seals on the rift holding the Evil Supreme, the recent activities in the mortal realm, and the balance of power across dimensions. As each voice spoke, Hiller listened with a quiet intensity, offering guidance when needed, making decisions swiftly and with confidence.

Yet beneath his composed exterior, he felt the weight of every word, every choice. His father's wisdom had been a constant presence, a guiding force through every difficult decision. But now, Hiller was alone. Each Guardian looked to him, their faith absolute, their respect unwavering. And with each decision he made, he felt the chasm between them grow.

When the meeting adjourned, he rose, offering a final nod before turning to leave. But as he moved toward the door, one of the younger Guardians, Eidan, approached him with a hesitant step.

"My lord," Eidan began, bowing deeply. "I…wanted to thank you for your leadership. Your guidance has given us all strength."

Hiller paused, looking down at the young Guardian, who was clearly both nervous and awestruck. He softened his expression, nodding slightly. "Thank you, Eidan. We serve the realm together."

The young Guardian beamed with pride, and Hiller offered a faint smile in return before leaving the hall. As he walked through the palace corridors, he felt a strange pang in his chest, a sense of separation from those he led, those who looked up to him. He was their leader, yes, but he was also alone, isolated by the very reverence they held for him.

That night, he wandered the palace grounds, the floating gardens drifting gently under the celestial light. Here, beneath the stars and surrounded by the soft glow of blooming celestial flowers, he felt a small measure of peace. But the solitude remained, like a shadow following his every step.

In moments like these, he would find himself reaching out to the human realm, observing their lives from afar. He saw them stumble, fall, and rise again, often unaware of the protection surrounding them. He watched as they laughed, argued, loved, and lost. Their lives seemed so small, so insignificant compared to the cosmic battles he fought, yet their resilience intrigued him.

He thought of Aurora, his closest friend, who was currently on a mission in the human realm. She had always spoken of humanity with a fondness he couldn't fully understand. To her, the humans were worth the sacrifices, worth every battle fought and every hardship endured. He longed to ask her how she found such faith in them, how she remained so steadfast in her role despite the hardships she faced.

But she, too, was distant. She was bound by her duty, her loyalty unwavering, and he respected her for it. He missed their conversations, missed the way she challenged him, offered him a different perspective. He wanted to tell her of the doubts gnawing at him, of the loneliness that had begun to creep into his heart. But such thoughts, he knew, were not meant to be shared. As Supreme Leader, he was expected to be unshakable, a beacon of strength.

As he wandered, he found himself at the edge of the Celestial Garden, overlooking the mortal realm below. The humans, he knew, would never know his name, would never see his face. They would never understand the sacrifices made on their behalf, the battles fought in their honor. Yet they moved through their lives, blissfully unaware, their struggles and joys so removed from his own reality.

A quiet question lingered in his mind: Were they truly deserving of this protection? The Evil Supreme had believed they weren't, that humanity was a flawed creation, unworthy of the guardianship they were granted.