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

For a long moment, no one moved.

The clearing stood still, as if the ground itself held its breath. That strange storm, its weight, the spiraling clouds, Elias's flickering powers, had vanished as quickly as it came. Like an exhale after being held too long.

And now?

Stillness.

Then the clouds overhead unraveled with a soundless sigh. Wisps of gray thinned into streaks of fading light, revealing an expanse of clear blue. Not a storm in sight. The air hung quiet, untouched.

Gravel shifted.

The soft crunch of boots marked Sentinel's approach as he stepped onto the edge of the training field. His stride was measured, deliberate. Jaw taut, brows drawn, his gaze swept across the group like he was assembling fragmented clues. His hands remained clasped neatly behind his back, too neat, like they were holding back more than just composure.

Without breaking stride, his voice cut through the air.

"Keep going with your combat training," he said. "Refining your skills will serve you more than waiting for answers."

He didn't wait for replies. A brush of his cloak and he was gone, disappearing into the Sanctum's arched entrance.

In the center of the field, Elias remained rooted. Beads of sweat clung to his temple, rising and falling with each uneven breath. He glanced toward the others, then to the archway Sentinel had vanished into. His lips parted, but no words formed. A flicker of unease shadowed his eyes.

Beside him, Fenrik moved.

The wolf's steps made no sound, his fur rising slightly with each step forward. He glanced at Elias, then back toward the empty path, a low rumble thrumming in his chest. Not a growl, just the sound of something alive and calculating.

From the sidelines, the others finally stirred.

Cassandra stepped forward first, her boots brushing against the dust with unhurried grace. She stopped a few paces away from Elias, her expression calm but resolute.

"Don't worry, Elias," she said, voice light but firm. "Your abilities will come in time. Just keep training. Keep pushing."

Elias exhaled slowly, nodding. "I'm trying. It's just... I don't know what that was."

Thorne shifted, crossing his arms as the weight of his halberd shifted on his back. He tilted his head, gaze scanning the sky that now looked too calm.

"Did you all see the sky? Thunder one second, then sun like nothing happened. That's not normal."

Elias blinked. "Thunder? What thunder?"

Thorne turned quickly, surprise lifting his brows. "You didn't notice?"

"I was kind of... preoccupied," Elias said, a small shrug breaking the tension in his shoulders. "Trying not to get knocked flat by a dragonborn legend."

Lyric let her arms fold loosely as a faint smirk crept to her lips. "He was too busy attacking Sentinel to notice the sky going full doomsday mode."

Her tone teased, light and sharp, but Cassandra's eyes flicked subtly toward Elias. Just once. No words followed, but something in her expression shifted, watchful, probing.

Alice tucked a loose strand behind her ear, her brow still furrowed. "No. And that was not just a shift in weather. It felt like something was pressing down on us."

Lyric's smile waned. Her gaze drifted skyward. "I thought the clouds were gonna fall," she muttered. "Like, literally crash down."

Eddy edged forward, dragging his boots with a slight scrape, as if uncertain whether to speak or retreat. His wide eyes bounced between faces, mouth open as if searching for the right words.

"Guys... I swear I checked the forecast this morning. Not a single mention of an apocalypse breeze."

Thorne gave a short snort, arms folded across his chest. "Your little forecasting human thing doesn't work in our territories, Eddy. This is a magical world. Nothing's off-limits here, not even skies that grow claws."

Eddy blinked. "Yeah, okay, well, I'd still prefer some kind of warning before the sky tries to eat us alive."

His eyes flicked upward again, tension stitched across his features. "There wasn't even wind. And those clouds, they moved like they wanted something. That's not science. That's just messed up."

A shimmer of silver light caught the corner of their eyes.

Fenrik's body began to shift.

Muscles rippled beneath fur as the transformation surged. Limbs shortened, claws retracted, and the thick coat of midnight-black hair faded into skin. With a crack of joints and a twist of bone, the massive wolf form folded inward, until Aiden stood in its place.

Completely naked.

Again.

Lyric recoiled with a noise caught between a squeal and a groan. Her face snapped to the side, both hands thrown up instinctively. "AIDEN! Again?!"

Alice let out a muffled wail and clapped her palms to her face, fingers splayed like they could still shield her from trauma. "Why is it always him?!"

Eddy froze, spine locking upright like he'd been electrocuted. His mouth moved, but only breath came out. Eyes wide, he stared at his boots with a kind of desperate intensity. "Oh wow—uh—I-I think I saw—nope—nope, didn't see anything!"

In one jerky motion, he spun around, facing the trees with military precision.

Thorne chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Well, that's one way to storm out of a transformation."

Elias pinched the bridge of his nose, eyelids squeezed shut as he sighed deeply. His hand dropped, gaze flickering downward toward Aiden, then quickly veering off as if he regretted the glance. "He's never going to learn, is he?"

Cassandra didn't even flinch. Without a single glance, she raised one hand and snapped her fingers. The sound was crisp, efficient, and final.

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A shimmer bloomed around Aiden. It wrapped him in a thin veil of gold before settling into fabric. In less than a blink, his body was clothed, tunic pressed, boots polished, pants not a wrinkle out of place.

She lowered her hand slowly and muttered, voice flat and unimpressed, "You're lucky I'm too tired to hex you into a robe made of thistles."

Aiden blinked, glancing down at the now-covered state of himself. "Oh. Neat."

From behind her hands, Alice peeked through the smallest gap in her fingers. "Are you sure he's clothed now?"

Lyric narrowed her eyes at him, one brow arching. "Do a full spin. No cheating."

Aiden groaned. His shoulders sagged. "Seriously?"

"SPIN!" they both yelled together.

The command cracked through the tension like a firework. Laughter exploded from the group, unfiltered, sharp, and genuine.

Even Elias.

His smile was brief, a fleeting twitch of the lips, but it reached his eyes, clearing the weight they'd held all morning.

The tension that had gripped them since the storm broke seemed to fade with every chuckle. The air felt different now, easier to breathe, as if something heavy had just lifted.

But as the laughter faded into softer echoes, Elias turned slightly, his gaze drifting back toward the arched silhouette of the Sanctum.

Something lingered.

Beyond them, behind stone walls and silence, the halls of the Sanctum offered no sound in return.

Sentinel moved alone through the winding corridors, his steps measured and steady. Each footfall echoed faintly against polished stone, but his mind was already elsewhere. His jaw tightened with every turn. Lines creased his brow. His eyes, dark and fixed, carried a weight that refused to leave him.

In his mind, the silence didn't last.

It was Elias.
His voice rang inward, firm and certain.
That lightning. That thunder. The sky shifting like that. I'm dead sure. It came from him.

A pause.

Then, low and grizzled, Vaelthar's voice stirred in his head, laced with doubt.
But how's that possible?
A vampire can't bend the sky. They aren't made to touch the elements, their nature doesn't allow it. That's not a path open to their kind.

Sentinel turned sharply at a corridor's edge. The sharp movement sent the edge of his cloak flaring behind him, catching the golden light from a window. Sunlight spilled across the floor in quiet contrast to the storm in his thoughts.

I know, Vaelthar. I know.
His mind pushed back, forceful now, the rhythm of his stride accelerating.
Even the previous Protectors couldn't do that, not the strongest of them. And they were chosen too. They bore marks, power, purpose... but never this. Never elemental influence.

A pause followed. Silence thickened.

Then Vaelthar spoke again, slower this time.

Perhaps... the Eclipse Heart gave it to him. He is the leader of the Protectors. Maybe it granted him something beyond the others. A gift no one has carried before.

Sentinel didn't respond immediately.

His steps slowed as he reached the carved door at the end of the corridor. Fingers hovered over the sigil embedded in the wood, a perfect circle eclipsed by a blaze. The etched lines were worn smooth, familiar to his touch, yet they felt heavier now beneath his skin.

His thoughts grew darker.

If that's true...
He drew in a breath through his nose, sharp and controlled, the kind that tried to keep worry at bay.
If the Eclipse Heart gave him that kind of power, then the threat looming over us is far bigger than we imagined.

His hand pressed forward. The door opened without a sound.

Inside, the office welcomed him with dim light and stillness. Only the faint glow of the overhead fixture buzzed faintly, casting soft illumination across the room's surfaces. The air felt stale, as if the space had been holding its breath.

...then you and I both know: powers like that never come without cost. Not without burden. And certainly not without danger.

Vaelthar's voice returned, low and final, threading through his thoughts like wind brushing against coals.
Then the boy will either rise... or burn.

The door clicked shut behind him, soft but definite.

Sentinel stepped further into the room. The light hummed faintly overhead, its gentle vibration trailing him like an unwelcome thought. The furnishings were sharp-lined, polished, efficient—but there was something in the air. Not the absence of life, but a lingering pressure. The echo of everything left unsaid.

He stopped at the far end of the room, facing the wide, tinted window that spanned nearly the entire wall. Through it, the training grounds stretched outward, golden light bathing the field in early morning haze. The figures of young protectors moved below—sparring, ducking, striking—pushing past exhaustion to prove they belonged.

But his eyes didn't drift across them all.

They found one.

Elias.

He wasn't moving like the others. He stood near the weapons rack, slightly hunched, one hand gripping his opposite shoulder as if the ache there refused to fade. His stance was uneven. Tired. Still catching his breath from a session that had clearly pushed him too far.

From above, he looked ordinary. Out of sync. Hesitant. A vampire still trying to find his footing.

But Sentinel's jaw set slightly, and his gaze narrowed.

Ordinary was a lie.

No one else had summoned the sky's fury. No one else had bent the air to their will without knowing they had. No one else had made the world pause and listen.

Not like Elias.

A whisper of breath left Sentinel's lips as he spoke aloud, quiet and firm, voice weighted not with fear, but caution.

"We have to be very careful from now on. If that power surfaces again, uncontrolled..." His exhale was slow, pressed through his nose like it could steady the weight on his shoulders. "He can't afford to lose control. He has to learn to take hold of it. Master it, before it masters him."

Vaelthar's presence curled through his thoughts again, aged and solemn, a warning carried in the cadence of memory.
Then guide him. Watch him. Because that kind of power doesn't ask permission to awaken. It only asks what it must burn to stay alive.

Sentinel didn't blink. His focus never left the boy below.

"I will," he said softly.

And in the quiet hush of that room, with shadows pressed into the corners and light flickering overhead, Sentinel remained still.

Alone.

Watching the storm shaped in the form of a boy who hadn't yet realized he was one.

The clang of sparring blades rang across the training ground, mixing with shouts and scuffed gravel. Sweat glistened on foreheads, clothes were rumpled from drills, and the afternoon sun carved long shadows beneath their feet.

Near the weapon racks, Elias stood with one hand resting on the hilt of an unused sword. His other arm hung loosely by his side, shoulder freshly bandaged, the white wrap speckled faintly with pink. Though the pain had dulled, a pulsing tightness still lingered.

He wasn't moving, just watching.

Around him, the field pulsed with motion.

Aiden and Thorne circled one another with coiled energy. Aiden kept low, weight spread evenly between his feet, each movement clean and precise. His fists twitched with practiced rhythm, the restraint in his blows as telling as the strength behind them. Across from him, Thorne wore a grin that widened with every close call, feet shifting with lightning swiftness as he leaned into the rhythm of the fight, dodging with ease and returning sharp counters.

There was no holding back now.

Off to the side, Cassandra had stepped away from the heat of sparring. Arms crossed, posture relaxed but alert, she observed the pair with quiet calculation. Beside her, Alice leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, while Lyric balanced on the balls of her feet, gaze fixed on something else entirely.

Eddy.

He stood stiffly, knees bent too far, arms hovering in a guard that looked more accidental than intentional. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly parted, and his shirt clung to his back, soaked clean through.

He looked like a deer facing down a charging elemental.

Cassandra approached him slowly, her expression even. "No no no, Eddy—feet shoulder-width apart," she said, voice smooth, her tone deliberate. She tapped his ankle with the side of her boot, guiding the correction.

Eddy shuffled, struggling to match the posture with something resembling grace.

"Like this?" he asked, voice caught between dread and determination.

Lyric squinted, head cocked to the side. "Kinda looks like he's about to do the chicken dance."

Alice choked back a laugh. "Or lay an egg."

Cassandra flicked them both a flat stare, though the faintest twitch at the corner of her lips betrayed her amusement.

"He's trying," she said at last. Her tone didn't soften, but there was something patient in it. "Respect the effort."

"Trying to what—summon gravity?" Eddy muttered, eyes narrowing as he shifted again, trying to remember where his limbs were supposed to go.

Cassandra stepped in, adjusted his elbow with gentle precision. Her hand moved with practiced ease, setting the angle just right.

"Now, when I come at you, pivot, and push with your left hand. Tackle low, don't aim for height. You're not wrestling a giant."

"Got it." He nodded quickly, jaw clenched. "Pivot, push, low tackle."

She stepped back into stance, boots dragging faintly against the ground as she adjusted her footing. Both hands lifted, weight centered, focus locked.

"Ready?"

"Ready."