The Protectors: Rising from Ashes [Progression Fantasy | Action-Packed | Epic Battles]

Their footsteps rang hollow through the corridor, four echoes in tense harmony. Luminous bands embedded in the walls emitted cool, steady light, casting angled shadows across their faces, faces now warped in flickers, like masks being peeled away.

Sentinel led, his spine a rigid line, gaze forward and cold. There was a sharpness to his steps, deliberate and silent, like a man approaching not a council, but a reckoning.

Elias moved just behind him, hands sunk into his pockets, fingers curled tight enough to tremble. His breaths were shallow, controlled. His boots skimmed over the floor like each step might betray him if it landed too hard.

Beside him, Lyric's shoulders were high, tense under her silver-trimmed cloak. Her hand hovered near the infinity pendant at her throat, brushing it once, just once, before curling into a fist at her side.

Thorne trailed a few steps behind them. No jokes this time. His brows were drawn low, jaw shifting side to side like he was grinding his nerves into something sharper. He rolled his neck and muttered, "Could've used a shield... or snacks."

A dry voice flicked through his thoughts.
You always think better with food.

Not the time, Pyrix, Thorne replied, shoulders twitching. Unless you're about to conjure lunch.

No, the dragon snorted. But brace yourself. Veyrion's presence is everywhere. It's soaked into the air like rot, cold, regal, and watching. He doesn't need power plays. He just waits for you to hand him your throat.

Thorne's jaw tightened. I'm not planning to.

Good. Then keep your humor in check and your back straight, Pyrix growled. Because he'll twist silence harder than most twist steel. Just remember, he feeds on your failure more than your fear.

Ahead, the corridor ended at the looming Solstice Chamber doors.

Twin slabs of dark ironwood stood tall, etched with spiraling sigils that shimmered faintly under the panel light. The carvings shifted subtly with the eye, glyphs too old for common tongues, the kind that didn't just mark power, but held it.

Sentinel came to a stop just before them.

Sentinel turned, his eyes sweeping over the trio like a silent scan, not for weakness, but for cracks the Elders might pry into. His expression was unreadable, but something behind it pulsed with quiet urgency.

"Hold your ground," he said, voice low and deliberate. "Don't let them smell fear."

Elias straightened, almost on instinct.

"Yes, they are your Elders," Sentinel added, softer now, "but they're not gods. Show them respect, but don't forget who you are. You were chosen by the Eclipse Heart itself. You carry its voice. Its will. And the protection of everything that stands behind this door."

His gaze landed on each of them, steady and unwavering.

"So carry that truth. Walk in like it matters. Because it does."

Silence answered first.

Then...
Elias inhaled slowly through his nose, and his chin lifted a notch. His pulse still thundered in his chest, but it no longer felt chaotic.
Lyric gave a single nod, shoulders settling. "Ready."
Thorne cracked his knuckles. "Let's go impress the crypt crew."

The heavy ironwood doors moaned as Sentinel pressed against them, opening inward on silent hinges.

What lay beyond was colder than expected.

The Solstice Chamber stretched wide beneath a high, domed ceiling. Pale stone walls gleamed under the steady light of a grand chandelier suspended above, a structure of crystal and metal that cast soft reflections over everything below.

At the center stood a round obsidian table, its polished surface catching the glow and turning it dark. Runes etched along the table's edge pulsed faintly, steady as a heartbeat.

Around it, six robed figures sat, silent and watchful.

At the head of the table, clothed in a tapestry of crimson and midnight, Lord Veyrion sat like a throne made flesh. Silver-thread veins curled along his collar, gleaming faintly against the black. His hands were folded, not relaxed, not tense, just ready. When Sentinel entered, Veyrion's gaze lifted, slow and precise, as if he'd been waiting for this very moment to unfold.

A smile touched his mouth. Thin. Polished. Entirely performative.

"Well," he murmured, voice like velvet poured over razors, "the Eclipse Guardian arrives. Fashionably late. Fully armed."

A long pause.

"How... ceremonial."

Sentinel didn't slow. His cloak shifted behind him as he walked with the calm of inevitability. Elias, Lyric, and Thorne followed in formation, shoulders high, expressions sealed.

To Veyrion's right, two Elders sat cloaked in silent authority.

Lord Thaeon, dressed in starlight-gray, sat as if sculpted from the very chair, rigid, calculating, eyes sharp and silver-blue behind rimless lenses. The glint off his polished ring caught the chandelier's light every time he shifted, though he rarely did.

Beside him, Lady Vessara, wrapped in sleek navy, had the poise of a courtroom veteran. Her high collar framed a face carved in cool elegance, but her eyes, flat, owl-like, tracked every movement like they were cataloging future faults. One finger tapped rhythmically on the glossy obsidian table, the sound light, deliberate, and quietly unnerving.

To his left, Elias's parents held their places like sculpted judgment.

Alaric, carved in the image of frost itself, stared at Elias with a gaze that pressed like stone, not cruel, not kind, just crushing in its certainty.

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Morgana sat beside him, her hands folded in her lap, posture flawless. But the slight tremble in her knuckles, the tightness around her mouth, those betrayed her silence when her son stepped through the doors.

At the end of the row, Damien lounged with casual arrogance, one arm slung over the chair's back, the other folded across his chest. His boot tapped idly against the table leg. His smirk was lazy, confident. He didn't need to say a word; it was written in the arch of his brow: This will go exactly how I want it to.

Near the table stood Alice and Aiden, tense at first, until their gazes landed on the trio. A flicker of relief passed between them, unspoken but real.

Veyrion's fingers tapped once against the obsidian table, an idle beat, almost too soft to hear. But the sound echoed in the quiet like a countdown.

He tilted his head, smile returning, this time with sharper teeth.

"I must admit, Guardian," he said, "your entrance has all the weight of theatre. I had begun to wonder, do even the chosen now require an escort to face consequence?"

The words slithered, dressed as silk but meant to wound.

Vaelthar snarled inside Sentinel's mind, I want to rip that smug smile from his face. Burn the fangs right down his throat.

Sentinel's thoughts stayed steel-cold, a quiet reply in the storm. Not today. Not here.

Veyrion leaned back just slightly, but never looked away from Sentinel. "Of course... I should've known. You'd never let your little legends march alone into judgment. Very noble. Very... predictable."

Sentinel's gaze didn't waver.

"They stand on their own merit," he said evenly. "I'm not their shield."

The elder's smile deepened, dangerous, amused, like a knife poised to strike.

"Naturally. After all… we wouldn't want to question the decisions of the Eclipse Heart, would we?"

The words hung in the air, poison wrapped in silk, thick and heavy as smoke.

The chamber held its breath.

Sentinel's voice came low, grinding like stone beneath pressure.

"Not unless you're ready to question the Heart itself."

He stepped forward, his boots clicking sharply against the polished obsidian floor as he moved into the center of the round chamber. He paused directly beneath the grand chandelier, a cascade of cold, crystalline light that shimmered quietly above him, casting fractured reflections across the obsidian table and the faces seated around it.

Behind and beside him, the others fell into position, five young figures taut with determination, shadows lingering in the elegant room heavy with unspoken power.

To one side, Alice stood arms crossed, eyes narrowed like blades. Aiden stood rigid beside her, his body tense, breaths shallow as if holding himself together by sheer will.

Thorne shifted toward them, glancing sideways. "So... what exactly did you tell them about why we were late?"

Alice didn't look at him, but her gaze snapped to Aiden, sharp and unyielding. "You'll find out soon. And trust me, it's going to be very… educational."

Elias blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes. Lyric's glance was sideways, her tension evident.

Even Thorne's usual bravado faltered, replaced by a flicker of worry.

Aiden's eyes never left Sentinel, wide and unblinking, his nerves barely concealed beneath his stiff posture.

Lord Veyrion's cold gaze slid from Sentinel to the visibly unsettled Aiden.

"Well then," he said smoothly, fingers folding together with practiced elegance, "since all parties are now... miraculously present, I trust you've already explained the reason for your delay. But perhaps, for the benefit of the Council, you would do us the honor of repeating it?"

Sentinel's eyes followed Veyrion's gaze to Aiden. A flicker of confusion and irritation tightened his jaw. He had no idea what lame excuse Aiden had spun for them earlier, and frankly, he wasn't interested in hearing it again. Why did Veyrion insist on dragging it out? The question hovered, sharp and cold beneath his calm mask.

He shifted beneath the chandelier's pale light, the weight of unseen tension pressing heavier in the chamber.

Aiden cleared his throat, feeling every ancient, judging gaze drilling into him. His eyes darted to Sentinel, then the elders, and finally landed on Elias's family, all waiting in perfect silence.

"Well… the delay wasn't intentional. It was, uh… magical in nature. Very magical."

His glance flicked again, this time catching Lyric. That single twitch of her ear was enough. She knew.

Lyric snapped her head toward him, eyes narrowing like she was about to cast a curse that would erase his entire bloodline.

But Aiden had committed. There was no escape now.

"Right, so… Lyric was practicing this extremely advanced elemental displacement spell in the hallway. You know, the kind of thing you absolutely don't try unsupervised but she did anyway.

He grimaced. "Except… it sort of got out of hand. Like, opened-a-semi-sentient-whirlpool-in-the-middle-of-the-corridor level out of hand."

"Aiden," Lyric warned under her breath, her voice like wind before a storm.

He held up both hands. "I tried not to say anything, really! But we're standing here in front of very powerful, extremely patient people who've been waiting, we couldn't make them wait without an explanation, right?"

Damien leaned forward, eyes gleaming with barely contained amusement.

"The whirlpool," Aiden continued with mock solemnity, "swallowed a few things. Thorne's boots, may they rest in soggy peace, three rugs, a very expensive-looking tapestry, and a crow that no one remembers owning. We're hoping it wasn't sentient too.

Morgana blinked once.

Elias pressed two fingers to his temple, eyes closing as if physically trying to shut out the sound. "We are never letting him speak again," he muttered to no one in particular, voice tight with the weariness of magical trauma.

Aiden, either unaware or fully committed to the bit, forged ahead like a bard in his final act.

"Lyric tried to fix it, alright? But the whirlpool wasn't having it. It went full diva, started arguing magical ethics like it had tenure at an arcane university. Then it grew eyes." He paused, deadpan. "Actual eyes. Blinked and everything. like a tiny soap opera monster. Elias threw a dispelling charm—"

"It called me rude," Elias cut in, deadpan, still glaring at the floor.

Aiden gave a tragic nod. "Then it got bigger. And hungrier. Honestly? Kind of dramatic."

From the side, Thorne's arm slowly lifted, finger raised like he was giving testimony. "Also… it stole my snacks," he said solemnly. "All of them."

Silence.

Aiden pressed his palm to his heart. "We finally trapped it in a mirror dimension. But not before it unionized the broom closet and made the whole corridor smell like citrus and unresolved trauma."

This time, the quiet wasn't awkward, it was stunned. No one moved.

Lord Veyrion didn't blink. Didn't twitch. Just stared at Aiden like he was trying to decide whether to laugh… or exile him.

Then, very slowly, the corner of his mouth curved.

"How… delightfully chaotic," he said, each word tasting of irony. "The Eclipse Heart's champions are not only brave… but wildly inventive."

His gaze slid to Lyric, who stood ramrod straight, jaw clenched, shoulders taut—like phantom wings might've flicked there, if only she could transform.

"And you," Veyrion said, eyes glittering, "High Priestess of the Elemental Whirlpool… any other abominations we should prepare for?"

Lyric's face lit up with fae-pink fury. "I wasn't trying to make it sentient!"

"She named it," Aiden added helpfully, lips twitching.

Lyric turned toward him. Her glare was less expression, more weapon. "I was being polite."

A breathy chuckle escaped Veyrion. From beside him, Morgana's lips twitched like she was losing a battle with her own amusement. "Oh, this will be… fascinating."

A soft shuffle of footsteps cut through the laughter as Sentinel stepped forward, cloak whispering behind him like a warning.

He didn't speak at first, just let the silence bend under his presence.

Then, cool and sharp: "If we're finished reviewing magical improv comedy, the chosen are ready."

Veyrion's smile sharpened, gaze flicking briefly toward Aiden, then sweeping across the group.

"By all means, Guardian," he said, his voice smooth but edged. "But first, enlighten us. Is that boy speaking the truth… or are all of you making a fool out of us, hoping we'll laugh and move on?"

The amusement vanished from his face.

"We won't."

The weight of his words dropped heavy into the chamber.

In perfect unison, five pairs of eyes, Lyric's sharp and fiery, Elias's guarded, Thorne's wary, Alice's steady, and Aiden's anxious, shifted to Sentinel.

Waiting.

Would he support Aiden's ridiculous excuse, or let it crumble?

Sentinel's jaw tightened. His expression was unreadable, stone-cold.

No words came.

Only the weight of his presence filled the room.