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

Chapter 39 - The Weight of Silence [Part 2]



A ripple passed through the five.

Not a sound. Not a breath out of place. Just motion coiled tight beneath their skin.

Lyric's fingers brushed her thigh, but her eyes never wavered. Elias's shoulders were squared, steady, like he'd finally found the gravity in his bones. Aiden gave the briefest nod to himself, like he already knew the outcome. Alice stood with a defiant stillness, a fortress behind her eyes. And Thorne… still, solid, unreadable, but watching everything.

They stood like a storm barely held in place. A beat passed.

Then—

A scraping sound cleaved the silence, dry and deliberate. The leg of Veyrion's chair dragged against the stone as he stood, every inch of his rise measured and sharp. His cloak whispered into place, shadows folding along its hem like smoke retreating.

His fingers remained at his sides, but the way his knuckles strained gave him away. The chandelier caught the crest on his collar, the silver flash glinting like the edge of a drawn blade.

"I do not like being forced into corners," he said, the chill in his voice threading down the spine of the chamber.

Each syllable landed like a closing door.

"And I do not trust easily."

His gaze swept over the five, sharp and calculating. There was no curiosity in the way he studied them, only judgment. Then, with a pivot that felt almost magnetic, his attention shifted back to Sentinel, gaze locked like drawn steel.

"But… for now, they may remain."

The words struck like a gavel, unceremonious but absolute. The chandelier overhead bathed the room in a wash of soft golden light, glittering off the polished table, but the chill in the room remained.

"This council will not tolerate failure again," Veyrion continued, lowering himself back into his chair with a precision that made it clear he intended every moment to convey control. "This is their last chance."

The silence that followed felt heavy, not out of fear, but clarity. Sentinel, still and unreadable, gave a slight nod, then spoke in a voice that held no hesitation.

"And you and the others will also ensure that the next time an attack happens, your elite forces are prepared."

A flicker of discomfort passed through the room. Lord Thaeon's jaw clenched, the faintest motion betraying unease. Lady Vessara's hands, which had been tracing the edge of her sleeve, abruptly stilled.

"There will be no miscommunication," Sentinel continued, his tone level, unflinching. "And they must arrive on time."

No one spoke to challenge him. No one dared.

"You expect them to stand alone," he added, and this time, the weight behind his words was undeniable. "That will not happen again."

Behind him, the five remained as they were, but the air around them felt charged. Their postures didn't falter, but something had settled into place, like the quiet snap of a puzzle locking into shape. They weren't waiting to be dismissed or excused. They were waiting for the call to move forward.

Seated around the roundtable, Damien leaned forward slightly. His smirk had returned, but it had sharpened, less amusement now, more fire. Whatever doubt had lingered before had been scorched away by the tension and truth exchanged in the room.

The warning had been received.

So had the message that came with it: they weren't afraid to answer.

Veyrion stood again, the abruptness of it unsettling in its detachment. There was no grand declaration this time, no flourish of command. He simply rose like someone closing a conversation mid-sentence, already done with it.

"This meeting is concluded," he said, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve with the irritation of someone dealing with a mess beneath him. "You've wasted enough of the council's time."

He didn't look at anyone as he turned, not at the five, not at Sentinel, not even at the elders who rose after him. The scrape of his chair echoed as Lady Vessara folded her hands and Thaeon pushed himself up with visible tension in his limbs, eyes shadowed.

Sentinel inclined his head, the gesture respectful in form if not in tone. "If you'd prefer, I can have someone escort—"

"No need," Veyrion clipped, already halfway to the doors. "We have matters far more pressing."

The final word rang sharper than it should have. A slice, not a period.

His back never turned to the table. His eyes never touched Sentinel's, not once.

Still rooted in place, Sentinel watched him go.

Vaelthar's voice slid into the silence of his mind, low and cold, like a blade drawn in the dark.
He left too quickly. Too smooth. Too clean. As if staying a second longer would've cracked the mask.

Sentinel didn't move. But his thoughts pushed forward like stone beneath pressure.
He's hiding something. That wasn't dismissal. That was retreat.

A beat. Then Vaelthar again, voice cooling with observation.
Or frustration. You saw how long he took to speak. The way his fingers gripped the table. Whatever he came here hoping for…

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The voice tilted like steel catching light. He didn't get it.

Sentinel's gaze remained forward, though his mind sharpened.

I didn't even raise my voice.

Vaelthar gave a dry, razor-edged hum. Exactly. You cornered him without drawing a sword.

The room hadn't moved. But something beneath its quiet had shifted, like tension buried in stone, waiting to crack open.

Sentinel felt it settle in his chest like an old, familiar weight. He came to divide us. To test how far I'd bend… and whether they'd break.

The dragon's voice returned, thoughtful but laced with steel.
And he found neither. You didn't flinch. They didn't fold. Whatever hold he hoped to tighten, slipped right through his fingers.

Sentinel's gaze flicked, just once, toward the five behind him.

Still steady. Still silent. But not passive.

He came hunting for fault lines.

Vaelthar didn't miss a beat. And left watching his own begin to show.

A breath passed, not exhaled, but held in thought.

Then the dragon's voice coiled in again, colder now.
Just don't mistake retreat for resignation. Men like him don't leave empty-handed. They come back with sharper teeth.

Sentinel didn't blink. The air around him remained still.

Then next time…

His thought was quiet steel.

I'll make sure he chokes on them.

Veyrion's footsteps faded down the corridor, too smooth. Too rehearsed.

Vessara followed, hands folded like a blade sheathed in silk. Her expression gave nothing, except for that one last glance toward the Chosen, unreadable… yet heavy with something that didn't belong.

Thaeon trailed behind her, slower. Almost as if burdened. Sentinel's words clearly hadn't left him.

Morgana turned next. She didn't pause for drama or control, just long enough for the silence to tighten around her. Her gaze skimmed over Elias, never settling but never missing either. Like a blade passing over skin, precise and deliberate.

"Don't disappoint them," she said. Her voice was flat, neither kind nor cruel, but edged with expectation that offered no room for failure.

Alaric came beside her and let his fingers rest on the polished curve of the table. His jaw was tight, but his expression gave little else. When his eyes landed on Elias, they didn't shift.

"If you're truly Chosen," he said, his voice low, taut with tension that sounded part warning and part reluctant belief, "then carry it like it means something."

He didn't wait for a response. He simply turned and walked, with Morgana falling into step beside him. No farewell, no glance back, but their silence didn't feel like dismissal. Just unfinished business.

Their footsteps echoed down the corridor until only Damien remained, leaning against a pillar near the archway. One arm crossed over his chest, the other tapping a finger lightly against the stone. His usual smirk played at his mouth, but it lacked its usual sharpness. His eyes were locked on Elias.

"Well," Damien said, voice dry and unimpressed, "try not to get yourself killed. Would be a pain to lie to Mother about how bravely you died."

Elias turned toward him, not fast, not hesitant. His brows pulled together slightly, not in confusion but in quiet challenge. There was no defiance in his stance, just focus, as if something inside him had finally found its shape.

"I'd rather die fighting than live hiding behind a smirk and a title," Elias said. His voice wasn't raised, but it landed hard. "At least I'll die standing for something."

Damien didn't blink. But the shift in his expression was there, barely. A crack at the edge of his practiced mask, the barest flicker of surprise. He pushed off the pillar and rolled his shoulders like shaking off a thought he hadn't meant to catch.

"Guess you're not just the spare after all."

He walked a few steps, then stopped beneath the arch. Still facing forward, he tossed his words over his shoulder with no effort, but not without weight.

"One good speech from Sentinel and now you lot think you've won already."

He raised a hand, lazily, almost like a joke, but his voice had lost some of its usual bite.

"But maybe you're worth watching, Elias."

And then he was gone.

Elias stood frozen for a second, the words echoing sharper than they should've.

Not the taunt. Not the smirk.

But the flicker buried under it. Like, for just a moment, Damien had seen him. And hadn't looked away.

The heavy doors groaned shut. The sound echoed, then faded.

Stillness settled.

Elias didn't move. His breath came quiet, steady, but something in his shoulders hadn't dropped yet. Neither had the others. The air still clung to the weight of everything left unsaid.

Aiden let out a slow whistle, breaking the silence like a crack of lightning after a storm.

"Well," he said, dragging a hand through his hair. "That was the tensest tea party I've ever not been invited to."

Alice shot him a look, then turned her attention back to Elias. Her arms crossed, voice even. "You didn't flinch this time."

Elias blinked, as if waking from something. He gave a small nod, more grounded than before.

Lyric stepped forward, eyes still on the door as if it might swing open again. "Did you see Veyrion's face when Sentinel shut him down?" Her voice was low, clipped. "Like someone made him choke on his own ego."

Thorne, still as stone beside them, spoke without turning. "Sentinel didn't just challenge him. He watched him. Like he was reading more than words."

Lyric's brow furrowed. "You think Veyrion's hiding something?"

"I think," Thorne said, glancing at Elias now, "he didn't come here for answers. He came to measure us. And he didn't like what he found."

Alice shifted, arms dropping to her sides. "His warning wasn't just about failure. It was a test of obedience."

"No," Elias said, voice low. "It was a warning for himself too."

Lyric gave a dry huff. "Good. Maybe next time they won't wait for the smoke to clear before pretending to care."

Movement stirred at the centre of the table. Sentinel stepped forward, soundless despite the weight he carried.

His voice cut clean through the quiet. "Don't think this will end here."

All five turned toward him as he came to stand before them, each step measured, his presence heavy with intent.

"Lord Veyrion is just waiting for you all to make a mistake," Sentinel said. "And when you do, he'll make his move."

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "Comforting."

"He'll do worse than that," Lyric muttered. "He'll pretend it was our fault and swoop in as the savior."

Sentinel gave a single nod. His gaze held theirs, sharp and deliberate. "Then don't give him the chance."

His eyes lingered on Lyric for a beat, then locked with Elias's.

"You especially," he said. "He didn't expect you to stand. Now he sees you. Don't let that become a weapon in his hands."

Elias didn't flinch. He met Sentinel's gaze with something calm, quiet, and sure.
"I won't."

Damien's voice still ghosted in the back of his mind, half-taunt, half-memory. But beneath it now was something steadier. Not approval. Not forgiveness.

Respect.

Recognition.

It didn't rewrite the past, but it acknowledged the present.

Aiden bumped his shoulder against Elias's, grin tilting sideways.
"And you, look at you. Snapping back at Damien like a younger sibling who finally bit back."

Elias's laugh slipped out, unsure, but not forced.

"I didn't think it'd surprise him that much."

Thorne gave a subtle nod, arms at ease. "He sees you now. That matters."

Elias's gaze lingered on the closed door through which Damien had vanished. The weight of everything that had just happened still hung in the air, but it felt different now, like something had cracked open.

"…yeah. Maybe it does."

They didn't move for a while.

No one gave orders. No one rushed out.

They just stood there, in the echo of something that hadn't broken them, only shaped them.

Together.

No longer shadows behind a council.

Not yet heroes.

But seen.

And for now, that was enough.


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