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

Elias turned his gaze on the council, not as a challenge, but as a mirror. Every elder. Every sneer. Every doubt. He met them all without blinking, each stare held until it dropped away or hardened.

"You want someone to blame?" he asked, voice quiet, but slicing through the air like flint against steel. "Then blame us. For staying. For fighting when your walls fell and your orders vanished. For protecting the people you failed to reach."

He let the silence stretch, long enough to make them feel its weight.

He glanced at each elder slowly, deliberately.
"We weren't perfect. We made mistakes. But we didn't abandon our responsibilities. We fought. And yes, we survived. But we didn't walk away untouched. We carry every name lost with us."

His gaze shifted at last, to his father.

"And we didn't wait for someone more worthy to show up. We showed up anyway."

Thorne's arms folded tightly across his chest, jaw set. Lyric's eyes were fixed on Elias now, wide with something close to disbelief. Alice exhaled slowly. Aiden's brows drew together, gaze flickering between Elias and the elders.

Alaric turned to face his son directly, voice laced with disdain.

"You speak like you've earned respect. But all I see is the same frail disappointment who stains the Nightshade name."

Elias didn't blink. He didn't so much as sway. His eyes found his father's and held, not with defiance, but something deeper. Steadier.

"I've heard those words from you all my life. And still, I stood when no one else did. I fought to save people I didn't know. People I'll never know. Not because I wanted praise. But because someone had to."

Morgana's voice followed, clean and unforgiving.

"If your father and I hadn't carried your name, perhaps fewer would've died in shame."

For a heartbeat, a flicker crossed Elias's face. Not pain. Not weakness. Just the ghost of a memory rising, and falling away.

"You don't carry my name," he said, softer now, though the stillness in the room made it ring clear. "You never did. I was born into it, yes. But I built who I am without your approval."

There was no sound, but a change rippled through the chamber. A hush that hovered, tense and expectant, like the air itself was holding back. Even the chandelier lights dimmed slightly, casting a softer glow, as if unwilling to break the moment.

"You taught me to fear failure," Elias continued. His voice wasn't loud, but it was unshakeable. "But my team taught me what real strength looks like. They stood with me when everything fell apart. And I will stand for them now."

He turned then, gaze sweeping across the elders, steady and sharp.

"You want someone to blame? Then blame us for standing when others didn't. For shielding the people you were supposed to protect."

Behind him, Thorne's lips curved, not into a smile, but into a steadier expression. Pride, forged like iron behind his eyes. Lyric blinked, once, twice, and swallowed hard. She lifted her chin, gaze locking onto Elias like an anchor. Alice leaned forward slightly, brows drawn in quiet awe, like something inside her had shifted, resettled. Aiden gave a small, near-imperceptible nod, but it was enough. Enough to say: I see you.

At the center of the chamber, Sentinel's posture remained unchanged, but a faint shift stirred behind his eyes. A crease formed at the corner, barely visible. His chin lifted slightly, measured and quiet. No flourish. No display. Just presence. Just quiet recognition.

Damien sat motionless beside Morgana, hands clasped in front of him, face unreadable. But his eyes... they told the story. He had watched Elias grow, stumble, fall.

But he had never heard him speak like that.

Never seen him like this.

This wasn't the boy who used to lower his head in shame.

This was the man who rose, despite being pushed down again and again. And this time... he didn't need saving.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Damien's lips, small, almost imperceptible. Not mockery, but recognition. Maybe even a little impressed.

Then Lord Veyrion's voice rose, cracking like thunder against stillness.

"Just because the Eclipse Heart chose you does not give you the right to speak to us like that. Do not forget, we are still your elders."

A pulse of tension went through the room, sharp and immediate. The threat wasn't just in the tone, it was in the cold weight of history behind it.

Alaric's eyes slid to Veyrion. Then, slowly, to Elias. His mouth didn't move, but something in the rigid line of his jaw did. Morgana sat straighter, her hand twitching once against the armrest before stilling. Her lips parted, ready to speak, but nothing came out.

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And in that moment, for the first time, they looked less like accusers... and more like people who had just glimpsed the edge of something they could no longer control.

They were worried.

Elias had stepped onto dangerous ground, and they knew it.

But he wasn't alone.

"No," Thorne said.

One word. Loud enough to turn heads. Solid enough to carry the weight of defiance.

He stepped forward, each stride sharp with purpose, and came to stand beside Elias, his stance square, chin lifted.

"You don't get to threaten him for speaking the truth. We all stood with him. We all saw what you didn't. Felt what you wouldn't."

Alice moved next. She rose in fluid motion, no hesitation. She stepped forward, her presence quiet but grounded, as if the truth in her bones carried more than the council's titles ever could.

"We didn't survive because of luck. We survived because of each other. You may not have chosen us, but fate did. And frankly? We trust fate more than politics."

Lyric followed. No drama. Just conviction. Her boots clicked softly against the floor as she took her place beside the others. Her gaze swept across the elders, level, unflinching.

"You can look down on us. You can question our worth. But we've already proven it, out there, in the ruins, where none of you showed up. Where people screamed for help... and we were the only ones who answered."

And then Aiden.

He didn't rush. Didn't speak right away. He stepped forward and stopped, his shadow brushing against Elias's. His hands were loose at his sides, voice quiet when it finally came, but his words rang clean.

"If standing for each other makes us reckless, then I'll choose that over silence. Every time."

And that was it.

They stood there.

Not five children.

Not five mistakes.

Not five survivors.

They stood like a wall.

Unyielding. United.

And this time... unafraid.

Sentinel's expression didn't change, but his eyes flicked from one to the next—Elias, Thorne, Lyric, Alice, Aiden—taking them all in. Measured. Grounded. Proud. His chin lifted just slightly, a glint of approval in his gaze. Subtle, but there.

Inside him, Vaelthar stirred. His voice coiled through Sentinel's mind, low and resolute.

This is it.

Sentinel didn't answer. Didn't need to. His eyes never left the five.

Lyric's jaw tight, but eyes steady. Aiden breathing slow, shoulders set. Thorne's arms folded like locked gates. Alice still, lips pressed into a line. Elias, unmoving, unblinking, holding the silence like a blade.

We don't need to be their shield anymore, Vaelthar murmured. No more standing in front of the storm. From now on... they face it themselves.

Sentinel's nostrils flared with a breath, soft and almost imperceptible. Not a sigh, acceptance.

They're not just standing up, Vaelthar said. They've taken the next step. The one that makes protectors.

Still silent, Sentinel watched the five like a commander watching soldiers cross a threshold that could not be uncrossed. No hesitations. No fear. Just fire in their eyes.

And then, his thoughts answered back—measured, steady.

They didn't flinch. Not even when Veyrion bared his teeth.

No, Vaelthar said, a current of pride woven through each syllable. They stood taller.

A faint line softened near Sentinel's mouth. Not quite a smile. But close.

That's not taught, Sentinel replied. That's chosen. That's earned.

Vaelthar's hum pulsed through him. Warmth behind ribs forged for battle.

They made their choice. And they'll never stand the same again.

The words settled in the silence between them. Not finality, but truth. Unshakable.

Within him, Sentinel felt it, a shift. A flicker that wasn't his own. Not surprise. Not relief.

Satisfaction.

Quiet. Rooted. Fierce.

And though Vaelthar didn't speak again, Sentinel felt it, through every breath, every beat:

The dragon was smiling.

Across the chamber, Lord Veyrion leaned back in his seat, gaze fixed. Unreadable. But the change in the room was undeniable. The Eclipse Heart hadn't chosen them blindly.

It had seen what the council refused to.

And now, it stood there. Rising right before them.

Veyrion leaned forward slightly, voice low and edged with steel.

"So now you all think that just because you've been chosen by the Eclipse Heart... we can't touch you?"

His gaze sharpened.

"Don't forget. We still have the power to cast you aside. And don't think we won't use it."

The words landed like a stone dropped in still water. The air tightened.

Then, before anyone else could respond, Sentinel stepped forward. His movement was quiet, but it sliced through the silence like a blade.

His gaze locked onto Veyrion's. Calm. Direct.

"Then do it," he said. "Right now. Right here."

Gasps snapped through the hall.

Even the chandelier lights seemed to pause, their glow frozen mid-flicker, like the entire chamber held its breath.

Elias's brow twitched, startled.
Thorne's mouth parted, half in disbelief.
Alice narrowed her eyes, not alarmed—calculating.
Lyric blinked slowly.
Aiden held still, jaw set, unreadable.

But Sentinel didn't stop.

"Go on," he said, voice sharp, unwavering. "Use your power. Prove your authority. Strip them of their titles. Cut ties with the very force that just saved the Zephyros."

He stood at the center of the round table, each motion deliberate. Each word landing with weight.

"But before you do that, remember this, because the vampires who survived Duskveil Mall have already whispered it in fear."

The room tensed.

"That thing... that invader..." his voice dipped, colder now, "...wasn't like anything we've faced in recorded history."

Eyes shifted.
Alaric's hand twitched, fingers curling.
Morgana turned her face slightly away.

"Every strike made it stronger," Sentinel went on. "Every drop of blood only fed it."

Tension rippled. Disbelief flickered across faces.

Thorne's face tensed, his jaw locking. Alice folded her arms, knuckles whitening. Aiden exhaled sharply, remembering it all too well. Lyric's hand briefly touched her shoulder, the same one that had been nearly torn in that fight. Elias lowered his gaze for a moment, the memory still vivid.

"He didn't run," Sentinel said. "Didn't falter. He only fell, because these five found a way to end it. A way no one else did."

He swept his gaze across the chamber, slow and pointed.

"And being their elders, you of all people should understand what that means."

Silence.

"You know the Eclipse Heart doesn't choose perfection," he continued. "It chooses those who walk through fire. Who don't wait for orders. Who stand when others fall."

That truth didn't shout. It pressed down, settled into the floor beneath them.

Lord Thaeon and Lady Vessara shifted in their seats. Averted their eyes. Even Veyrion paused.

And then Sentinel gave them the final push.

"So if you still believe the answer to the next threat is casting them out..." his tone cut like sharpened glass, "...then go ahead. Do it."

He stepped back. Still. Steady.

"Dismiss the only ones who stood, when even your elite forces never showed."

Silence held. No one spoke.
Because in that moment... they all knew.

There would be no going back.