By the time I got to the third Guardian in the stack, I had already accepted my fate. I knew I was in too deep. I had taken six spirits from a woman who talks to ancestors like it’s casual conversation — there was no backing out now. I pulled this one out slowly, like I was expecting it to blink at me. And honestly? I wouldn’t have been surprised if it did.

This Guardian has a way of looking at you without eyes moving. The kind of image where you catch yourself apologizing even though it’s paper and paint. I held it with both hands, suddenly very aware that I stole something that feels alive. Mama would have cussed me clean into the afterlife if she saw me in that moment.
But she didn’t.
She slept right through it — like the ancestors were helping me or setting me up. Hard to tell with them.

Either way, Heist Part Three was complete. I tucked it back into the bag, heart pounding, praying these paintings would protect me instead of haunt me. Because at this point, I need allies on the other side. This Guardian is intense. Stern. Resolute. The lines cut through the black paper with precision, every shape deliberate and symbolic. The gold details look like they’re lit from within, and the posture feels like someone standing guard over a threshold. There’s strength here — ancient strength — the kind you feel before you understand it.
One glance and you know: this one means business.