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

The silence thickened like wet ash.

Sentinel said nothing. His eyes, cold and precise, locked onto Aiden across the circle. The boy looked like he wanted to vanish into the floor. He stood too still. Even a blink might draw fire.

Something stirred. Not in the room, but in his mind.

Vaelthar's voice slid in, low and slow.

Say yes.

The voice brushed in like mist, smooth and dangerous.

Sentinel's lips didn't move. Neither did his eyes.

Unless you'd prefer to explain, Vaelthar's voice curled like poisoned silk, why your precious Chosen disappeared into human territory. For what? A mortal boy?

His fingers curled slightly. The pulse in his jaw ticked, a small rhythm of restraint.

You know how they see humans, dirt with a heartbeat. And you think you can protect that boy? A pause. Sharp and cruel. The moment you speak his name in this room, especially here, especially now, he will be killed.

His shoulders remained square, unmoving. But something behind his eyes narrowed. A flicker of fire banked too long.

It won't stop there, Vaelthar added with quiet malice. They'll come for the five too. Consequences, Sentinel. Dire ones. So unless you want this gathering to end in blood, lie.

The voice sat inside him like thorns.

Sentinel remained still. A statue to those watching. But his thoughts rippled, the restraint coiled taut.

Until you have proof, prophecy, vision, blood-seal, he's a liability. And you know what Veyrion does with liabilities.

A beat of silence.

A breath drawn through grit.

Fine.

The mental space went quiet. But the tension remained, coiled and sharp in Sentinel's spine.

He didn't look at Aiden again. He didn't have to. The boy stood like someone who had just been brushed by something ancient and cold, his face pale, his throat bobbing with a swallow he tried to hide.

Around them, the silence hung, brittle and expectant.

Then, cutting through it all like a blade through frost, came Veyrion's voice, sharp, deliberate, and dipped in scorn.

"Still silent, Guardian?" he asked, his tone cold and taunting. "Is it shame you feel? Or regret? After all, you swore your faith in them before the noblest families of our lands, yet here they are, untrained, undisciplined, dangerous."

His stare slashed toward Lyric. "Apparently, unable to even cast basic spells without inventing mythical plumbing hazards."

Lyric's spine stiffened, her fists clenched at her sides. There was a tension in her stance, sharp and unyielding, as if she were holding back something fierce.

Veyrion smiled, sharp and pitiless.

"Perhaps we should have summoned the janitorial guild instead."

His mockery coiled through the room like poison smoke.

The five stood frozen, but their eyes had all turned, quietly, urgently, to Sentinel.

Lyric's breath caught in her throat. Thorne shifted, jaw tight, as if bracing for a blow. Alice barely blinked. Aiden didn't breathe. And Elias, still stone-still, finally moved, just his gaze flicking sideways toward the man who had promised them protection.

They waited.

Waited for the truth.

Or the lie that might save them.

Then Sentinel stepped forward.

Not fast. Not loud.

But the air shifted anyway.

When he finally spoke, his voice was ice over flame.

"If you want polished perfection, Lord Veyrion," Sentinel said, calm but cutting, "then summon the statues in your courtyard. They're quiet, obedient, and entirely useless."

Gasps flickered across the chamber like sparks. Lord Thaeon's brow arched sharply, while Lady Vessara's eyes narrowed, lips pressed in a thin line of disapproval. From the side, Alaric's gaze sharpened, but Morgana only tilted her head slightly, studying Sentinel with quiet intensity. Damien sat back in his chair, arms crossed loosely. A faint scoff escaped him, the corner of his mouth twitching with the hint of a smirk.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Unbothered, Sentinel stepped further into the center, cloak whispering behind him like smoke drawn by storm winds.

"The Chosen are not perfect. They are not finished. But that's the point. They are becoming. And that process is messy, dangerous, and necessary."

Silence coiled through the air. It tightened.

"You see failure. I see evolution."

His eyes flicked, briefly, deliberately, to Aiden.

"They adapted under pressure. They made mistakes and kept going. They protected each other. And they did so without sacrificing anyone else in the process."

Veyrion's smile thinned, shark like. "And what of your silence, then? If their actions are so noble, why hesitate to defend them?"

Sentinel didn't blink.

Alaric leaned forward in his chair, gaze unreadable. Morgana's fingers curled around the armrest, knuckles white. Damien's smirk faded into something colder.

Sentinel's voice dropped, velvet over steel.

"Because I know what you'd do with the full truth." His voice dipped lower. "And we don't have the right proof yet to offer it to you."

Veyrion tilted his head slightly, suspicious. A flicker crossed Lady Vessara's face, disbelief, or perhaps warning. Lord Thaeon's fingers tapped once, then stilled.

Sentinel's eyes narrowed.

"There are pieces still falling into place, people whose roles in the coming war may be more vital than we currently understand."

Then, cool as shadow. "But I won't gamble their lives while that truth is still unwritten."

Veyrion studied him for a long, tense moment.

Then, without a word, he leaned back in his chair. The faint breath he let out wasn't quite a sigh, more like a quiet dismissal, though the sharpness in his eyes didn't ease.

His gaze moved, slow and deliberate, across the chamber.

Elias stood sharp-eyed, focused, every muscle alert. Alice's arms were crossed, face unreadable, calm but guarded. Aiden was still, jaw clenched, holding something in. Thorne met Veyrion's gaze without flinching, steady and waiting. Lyric stood quiet, but her eyes didn't move—fixed, fierce, watching everything.

None of them looked afraid now. But behind the silence, something else lingered, poised, waiting.

Veyrion's gaze returned to Sentinel. The easy amusement from earlier was gone.

The chamber felt different now. Not colder in air, but in atmosphere, quieter. Sharper.

His fingers brushed the edge of his cloak as he shifted slightly in his chair, voice low and flat.

"No more deflection," he said. "We're not here for excuses or magical comedy. We're here for answers."

He looked to the seats where the Elders sat, their faces carved from suspicion and old bloodline pride. And in the left, Alaric, Elias's father, his gaze like steel behind glass.

"The incident at Duskveil," Veyrion continued. "Forty-seven vampire lives lost. Several of them children. Entire bloodlines scattered."

A pause.

"And your Chosen, our supposed future, ran straight into a public space and brought death with them."

Alice's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Beside her, Lyric stood tense, shoulders rigid. Thorne's fingers twitched near his belt. Aiden shifted uncomfortably, and Elias… Elias didn't move at all.

Alaric's voice rang clear.

"We all said from the beginning: they weren't ready. Their inadequacy has now cost lives."

Morgana's voice followed, sharp and soft.

"And you, Sentinel, still stand behind them?"

Sentinel stepped forward, his cloak trailing like a warning.

"I do."

Elias's head lifted slightly. His face was unreadable, but his eyes flickered, quiet disbelief, as if he hadn't expected to be defended so plainly, especially while his own family stood against him.

Veyrion arched a brow. "Even now?"

"Yes."

Thorne's jaw tightened. He didn't shift or look away, but his gaze flickered, tense, unwavering. Not guilt. Not fear. A deeper pull. Like loyalty readying for a fight.

Lord Thaeon tone turned cutting. "Tell us, then. How do you justify what happened? This was no ambush in the wilds. It happened inside one of our protected zones. In a mall, for shadow's sake."

"And," Lady Vessara added, "the Chosen didn't even know what they were fighting."

Sentinel's expression didn't flicker.

"Because none of us knew."

Alice exhaled softly, almost soundlessly, but her lips were pressed together, eyes lowered for a moment, then steady again. There was no smugness, no relief. Just quiet awareness.

He let his words settle in the room like frost.

He turned, sweeping his gaze across the circle of Elders, and Elias' family, their stares ancient and sharp.

"Let me make something very clear to all of you," he said, voice low and controlled. "That thing, the creature that appeared in Duskveil, it wasn't some curious tourist from another world here for sightseeing."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"It came to break the balance of our world. To scatter it. To strike where we were most proud, where we were strongest. Duskveil Plaza wasn't random. It was chosen."

A silence fell like thunder.

"That invader walked straight into the center of a vampire hub, one of our most secure territories, and began unraveling everything we thought we understood about war, magic, and existence itself."

His eyes darkened.

"And it was not the fault of the Chosen that they were there. It was not their fault that they had to be the ones standing in front of it while the rest of us watched from a distance."

Aiden's gaze lowered for a heartbeat. When it lifted again, there was no apology in it, only a tightened focus, as if hearing the truth spoken aloud gave shape to the weight he already carried.

Alaric's jaw locked.
He leaned forward slightly, gaze fixed on Elias like the boy's presence alone was an insult.

But before he could speak, the room shifted. Attention slid to Veyrion.

The High Elder's expression had stilled.

The amused flicker that so often played around his eyes was gone. His mouth was set, neither smiling nor scowling. But his gaze was steady, sharp.

Measuring.

And beneath that calm, a sliver of irritation showed, not at the invader, not even at the Chosen, but at Sentinel's refusal to fold.

When he finally spoke, his tone was clipped. Dry.

"How noble," he said. "Defending five unprepared children against the very structure meant to protect this realm."

Sentinel met his stare, unmoving.

"Better five unready but brave protectors who stood, than a hundred well-trained cowards who stayed behind their walls."

That hit.

Even Veyrion's lip twitched, whether in irritation or grudging acknowledgment, it was hard to tell.

Lyric's eyes narrowed, lips parting just slightly, but she didn't speak. There was something resolute in her expression now, as if the words had locked something into place within her.

Around her, the silence held, tight, simmering, uncertain.

Alaric's jaw clenched. His fingers curled against the chair's arms, knuckles whitening.

Morgana's eyes narrowed, sharp and unreadable, her gaze flicking briefly to Elias.

Damien exhaled through his nose, one brow twitching downward—his usual smirk missing.

The Elders shifted. Uneasy. Wordless.

And in that breathless pause between challenge and consequence, the Solstice Chamber no longer felt like a place of explanation.

It felt like a battlefield waiting for its first blade to fall.