A THOUSAND YEARS AGO:
Zephyros was at war. A rift split open between worlds, and from it poured an unrelenting flood of invaders. The air hummed with malevolent energy as shadowy figures, armored in dark, jagged metal, wielded unstable magic. The sky grew ominous under the swarm of arrows, the earth blistered under searing bolts, and monstrous creatures charged forward, their roars shaking the battlefield.
In the heart of the chaos, five warriors stood like a bulwark against the storm. Their movements were a seamless dance, synchronized by a bond that transcended words. At the forefront, towering over them all, their leader, Sentinel Drakonis, loomed like an unshaken colossus in his dragon form. His golden scales pulsed like molten metal under the blood-red sky, his slitted eyes tracking the battlefield with unwavering focus.
A ripple in the air—wrong, shifting. The temperature around him plummeted.
A Veilstalker flickered into existence mid-stride, its hollow form twisting, whispering, reaching.
Before its clawed fingers could rake across his flesh, Drakonis exhaled. A torrent of radiant flames erupted from his maw, engulfing the creature. It shrieked—an eerie, fractured sound—before crumbling into cinders, its essence snuffed out in an instant.
With a roar that rattled the heavens, he turned his fury on the swarm beyond, his flames carving through the ranks of shadowed invaders.
"Stay together! No one falters!" His command crashed into their minds, unwavering as the earth beneath them.
A ripple of black slashed through the chaos—Kael Duskbane, a ghost of the night, his body shifting with the darkness. His twin obsidian blades hissed as they sliced through enemy after enemy, leaving only ink-like wisps of dissipating shadows. A Veilstalker lunged from the side, its form flickering unpredictably.
Kael's smirk barely had time to form before his blades were already moving. A single step, a sharp twist, and the creature fell in two clean halves before it could vanish again.
"You're the one who said this would be easy, Sentinel," His voice curled through their minds, edged with sharp amusement, even as he twisted to avoid a crackling bolt of chaotic energy.
Drakonis didn't look back. His tail lashed out, sending a group of Hollowminds sprawling like shattered marionettes.
"I don't recall saying that." His tone carried the faintest flicker of amusement, a sharp contrast to the blood-soaked earth beneath him.
A thunderous crash split the air.
Lyra Winterclaw, in her wolf form, struck with the force of a falling star, her claws carving through a Blightbeast's rotting hide. The creature let out a guttural snarl before collapsing in a heap of mangled flesh. Another lunged from behind, its jaws gaping, its fetid breath curling around her.
Without hesitation, she whirled, catching it mid-leap. Her muscles tensed, a flash of fangs, and then—impact. She slammed the beast into the ground with enough force to shatter bone.
"Enough jokes, Kael!" she growled, gray eyes blazing. "Focus on the fight!"
Sylvara Everbloom moved like the wind itself, her glowing arrows falling in a deadly cascade. Each found its mark before her enemies could react. A Veilstalker flickered at her flank, its daggered fingers reaching—too slow. Sylvara twisted mid-air, her bow already drawn.
The arrow struck point-blank.
The creature disintegrated before it could blink out of existence.
"I'm with Lyra." She loosed another arrow, never breaking stride. "This isn't the time for banter!"
At the battlefield's edge, the storm howled.
Eryndor Sagefall stood unmoving, his staff humming with raw power. Wind twisted around him, his robes snapping in the tempest. Arcs of lightning coiled along his fingers, feeding into the magic pooling at his fingertips. With a sharp thrust of his staff, a jagged bolt of energy split through a Frostfiend, shattering it into crystalline dust.
Another surge of unstable magic streaked toward him. He barely managed to deflect it, the impact numbing his arm.
"They're not stopping, Sentinel!" His voice cut through the storm. Another wave surged from the portal. More Veilstalkers, more Hollowminds, more Blightbeasts, their grotesque forms bending reality itself as they poured forth. "More keep coming!"
Drakonis turned toward the rift. It churned, a pulsing wound in space, its malignant energy bleeding into the air. With every breath, it spat out more horrors, the battlefield buckling beneath its corruption.
Fire curled around his fangs. This had to end.
"We have no choice." His voice sliced through the storm. "We close the portal."
A sharp pause.
Sylvara's gaze flickered to the rift's unstable edges, a grim understanding settling in her eyes.
"Close it?" Her voice was steady, but tension laced every syllable. "That portal is unstable, Sentinel. We'll be caught in the—"
"I know." Drakonis cut her off, his voice as unyielding as the stone beneath their feet. "But we are the Protectors of Zephyros. If we must give our lives to save it, then so be it."
Silence.
Each Protector locked eyes with the others, the silence thick with the weight of an unspoken vow. No retreat. No surrender. Their hands tightened on weapons, breath steadying. They would face this together.
As they started toward the portal, it shuddered, its surface warping, twisting like something alive. Energy lashed out in jagged arcs, the air thick with ozone. Then—a pulse. A void-black figure emerged, towering, draped in seething darkness.
His armor seemed forged from the abyss itself, pulsating with veins of crimson light. In his hand, a blade writhed like liquid night, its edges tearing through the fabric of reality as he moved.
He landed before the protectors, his presence suffocating the air around them, a harbinger of the doom yet to come.
The invaders fell silent, bowing in deference. This was their leader—the architect of the invasion.
The figure tilted his head, eyes gleaming like molten coals in a dying fire. "So," he mused, voice rolling like distant thunder, rich with disdain. "These are Zephyros's chosen?"
His gaze swept over them, slow and deliberate. "The ones who dare to stand against me—Dreadlord Vyrakthos?"
Sentinel stepped forward, each movement deliberate, unyielding. Light flickered along his scales, catching on the edges of his shifting form.
"You will not destroy our world, Vyrakthos," he said, his voice calm but unrelenting. It was a rare gift, the ability to speak while in dragon form—one only Protectors possessed, their bond with the Eclipse Heart allowing them to retain their voices even in their most primal state.
"Every time you or your kind have sent your demons to invade our lands, we have defeated them. And now, it's your time. This ends here."
Vyrakthos chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Ends? Oh, Sentinel. Your fight is futile. Your world is already crumbling. But by all means, amuse me before I reduce you to ash."
The battle erupted in chaos. Vyrakthos raised his blade high, a twisted amalgamation of darkness and searing fury, and brought it down with devastating force. The ground beneath the Protectors cracked open, jagged tendrils of umbral energy erupting toward them
"Scatter!" Sentinel roared, leaping to the side as the ground exploded beneath his feet.
The Protectors darted in different directions, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike. But as they moved, demons surged from the shadows, grotesque creatures with glowing eyes and jagged fangs, eager to tear them apart.
A monstrous Blightbeast, its bloated body dripping with toxic ichor, lunged at Eryndor, claws outstretched. He slammed his staff into the ground, igniting arcane runes beneath it. A torrent of pure power surged upward, vaporizing the creature in a flash of blue fire. But before he could catch his breath, Vyrakthos was upon him.
The wizard barely raised his scepter in time to summoning a shield just as Vyrakthos's blade slammed against it. The force sent shockwaves rippling outward, rattling his bones.
Vyrakthos pressed in, his strength suffocating. The shield groaned, fissures spiderwebbing across its glowing surface.
"You're strong," Vyrakthos hissed, his breath hot and rancid against Eryndor's face. "But not strong enough."
Crack.
The shield shattered. Magic backlash exploded against Eryndor's body, knocking the breath from his lungs. His feet barely touched the ground before Lyra was there, leaping at Vyrakthos's exposed flank.
"You'll have to go through me first!" she snarled, claws slicing toward his armor.
Vyrakthos barely turned. His gauntleted hand snapped out—too fast. His fingers closed around her foreleg, claws digging into her fur.
And then—she was airborne.
The impact sent her skidding across shattered stone, dust clogging her throat as pain lanced through her ribs. She groaned, pushing up on trembling paws—just as a Frostfiend and Hollowmind descended upon her.
Snarling, she twisted, slashing upward. The Frostfiend howled as her claws tore through its icy hide, sending it tumbling back in a spray of frozen mist. The Hollowmind, its abyssal gaze radiating an unsettling aura, reached out—only to be impaled by a silver arrow that burned like starlight.
"Stay on your feet!" Sylvara called from above, loosing more arrows into the fray.
Vyrakthos turned, blade spinning. Arrows clanged against steel, but one struck true, embedding deep in his shoulder. Smoke hissed from the wound.
His lip curled.
"You pests are beginning to irritate me."
His palm hit the ground.
The battlefield lurched. A shockwave burst outward, shadows coiling and snapping. Sylvara's wings faltered mid-air. She spiraled, wind screaming past as she fought to regain control.
Kael flickered into view behind Vyrakthos, twin daggers gleaming with dark fire. A whisper of movement. A precise strike.
Blades found the weak points in armor.
"You talk too much," Kael quipped, slashing at the Dreadlord's back.
Vyrakthos roared in pain, spinning to retaliate with a brutal swing of his blade. Kael ducked low, but the force of the swing sent a blast of energy that knocked him off his feet.
At the same time, another Veilstalker lunged toward Kael's fallen form. Before it could strike, Sentinel crashed into it with earth-shaking force, fire erupting from his maw. The creature shrieked as it was consumed, reduced to smoldering ash.
With a bellow of rage, Sentinel turned, surging forward. A torrent of flames burst from his jaws, engulfing Vyrakthos in a searing blaze that clawed toward the sky.
Silence.
Then—a step forward.
Vyrakthos emerged, unharmed, his armor glowing red-hot but impervious.
His smirk cut through the smoke. "Is that all you've got, dragon?"
A blur of motion—then a fist, faster than thought, drove into Sentinel's chest. A deep, bone-rattling crack split the air as the force sent him rocketing backward. The ground quaked from the impact, shards of stone launching skyward as his massive form crashed into the ruins.
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Dust billowed, choking the battlefield in a suffocating haze. And through it, Vyrakthos stepped forth, his obsidian plating unmarred, his presence suffocating. Unshaken. Unstoppable.
The Protectors staggered, their breaths ragged, bodies bruised and battered. Blood smeared across Eryndor's temple. Lyra's fur was matted with dirt and sweat. Sylvara clutched her side, her fingers trembling. Kael stood among them, his form hunched, welts blooming across his skin, yet his grip on his staff remained firm.
Vyrakthos stood tall, the eldritch energy surrounding him pulsing, a living thing feeding off their struggle.
Sylvara's fingers twitched around her bowstring. "We're barely scratching him," she murmured, voice hoarse.
Eryndor planted his stave into the shattered earth, using it to steady himself. "If we fall here, Zephyros is lost." His knuckles whitened around the carved runes, but his stance held unwavering.
A slow, mocking clap. The scrape of metal against stone.
Vyrakthos dragged his blade forward, its tip carving molten scars into the battlefield. "Look at you." His voice slithered through the air, dripping with disdain. "The so-called Protectors—reduced to gasping, quivering fools. Tell me, where is your courage now? Where are your grand speeches of defiance?"
Sentinel forced himself upright, golden scales dulled beneath layers of grime and blood. His chest heaved, but his eyes still burned.
"We're not done yet."
Fire roared to life around him, driving back the lingering darkness. With a snarl, he surged forward, flames trailing in his wake as he crashed into Vyrakthos. The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, fracturing the battlefield beneath them.
But this was no longer a fight against just one enemy.
Before Sentinel's charge, Frostfiends, Veilstalkers, and other demons had swarmed, their shrieks splitting the air, their claws reaching hungrily for flesh. The battlefield had been drowning in darkness—until Eryndor unleashed his full power.
With a single, defiant step forward, he raised his staff high. The storm above churned in answer, a vortex of raw magic howling through the night.
"Enough," Eryndor commanded.
Lightning answered.
A jagged spear of radiance ripped the sky apart, striking the ground with a deafening crack. Blinding arcs danced through the storm, leaping from one demon to the next, vaporizing them where they stood. The Frostfiends howled, their icy bodies splintering into shards. Veilstalkers writhed, their forms unraveling into inky smoke, their death cries lost in the thunder.
When the glow faded, only scattered embers and scorched earth remained. The battlefield, once swarming with horrors, was now eerily still.
Only one enemy remained.
Sentinel's talons tore into Vyrakthos' onyx plating, sparks cascading from every strike. Each impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, the scent of searing metal thick and acrid.
Sentinel's claws raked against obsidian armor, embers trailing from every strike.
"NOW!" Sentinel's voice thundered through their bond.
A crack split the sky.
Eryndor lifted his staff skyward, commanding the tempest's fury. A searing lance of lightning speared downward, a blinding white streak against the night. It struck Vyrakthos square in the chest, forcing him back a step—a single, rare misstep.
Lyra seized the opening. With a feral snarl, she launched herself onto his back, claws sinking deep into the gaps of his armor. Vyrakthos roared, his body twisting violently to throw her off.
"You're not invincible!" she snarled, muscles straining as she held on, her fangs snapping inches from his throat.
Kael materialized at her side, his daggers already finding their mark—slipping between the shattered seams of armor, twisting deep.
"Let's see how tough you are without this fancy armor," he taunted, ripping the blades free.
Above them, Sylvara's silhouette burned against the darkness. Radiance coiled around her bow, condensing into a single, pulsing arrow. But as she took aim, a Blightbeast leaped onto a nearby ruin, claws reaching for her—
A golden flash—Sentinel's tail slammed into the demon mid-air, crushing it against a stone pillar before Sylvara could even turn her head.
"Everyone, clear out!" she called, her voice steady despite the tremor in her arms.
The Protectors sprang back just as the arrow struck. A deafening explosion of brilliance swallowed Vyrakthos whole. Light cascaded outward in a violent burst, scorching the battlefield, leaving behind nothing but a blinding white void.
When the dust settled, Vyrakthos staggered. His armor—once a seamless bastion of darkness—lay in shattered fragments around his feet. Cracks of raw, unstable energy flickered along his form, his power unraveling.
But still, he stood.
A low, guttural laugh clawed from his throat. He raised his blade for one final strike, the ground trembling as chaos force surged around him.
"You think you can defeat me?" Vyrakthos snarled, his voice filled with fury. "I am power incarnate!"
"Not this time," Sentinel growled, stepping forward. Flames erupted around him, brighter and hotter than ever before. He charged, slamming into Vyrakthos with all his strength.
The other Protectors joined him, their combined powers forming a vortex of fire, lightning, shadow, and light. The energy swirled around Vyrakthos, overwhelming him completely.
With a final, anguished roar, the Dreadlord was consumed by the storm of power.
As the light faded, Vyrakthos lay broken, his form flickering like a dying flame. Yet his lips curled into a sinister smile.
"You think... this is victory?" His voice was a rasp, yet it carried through the battlefield like a death knell. "Fools. You may have defeated me, but this is only the beginning." His lips curled, revealing bloodstained teeth. "You are mere pawns in a greater game. One day, he will come—stronger, more merciless. And your world will beg for mercy."
With those final words, Vyrakthos dissolved into obscurity, leaving only silence and the distant rumble of the unstable portal.
Lyra scoffed, shaking dust from her fur. "Typical villain speech. 'You may have won, but doom is coming'—please."
Eryndor's grip tightened on his staff. "What if he wasn't lying?" His gaze lingered on the empty space where Vyrakthos had vanished.
Kael wiped ichor from his daggers. "Then we deal with it when it happens." He gestured toward the rift still pulsing at the battlefield's heart. "Right now, that's the bigger problem."
Sentinel's golden eyes flicked to the portal, its unstable energy lashing outward like clawed tendrils. He let out a slow breath, steadying himself.
"We end this. Protectors, to the portal!"
They moved as one, battered scales glistening under the harsh light, breaths ragged but steady. Blood and ash stained their bodies, but their movements remained sharp and deliberate. The seething maelstrom loomed ahead, warping the air with a high-pitched whine, its swirling chaos devouring the ground beneath it.
Sentinel's massive dragon form rippled with power, his wings beating steadily as he surged forward. Sparks crackled along his scales, his form an embodiment of fire and fury. Around him, his team fell into formation—muscles taut, claws unsheathed, eyes burning with purpose.
A glance. A breath. An unspoken promise.
The ground trembled as another shockwave rippled from the portal, its instability sending violent bursts of energy in every direction. Their bodies tensed, but they pressed forward.
"Do you remember, Sentinel?" Lyra's voice cut through their mental bond, laced with a wry chuckle. She twisted mid-air, claws flashing as she tore through an enemy's throat. The creature crumpled into a pool of black ichor. "Hollowed Woods. Outnumbered, exhausted. You told us we'd win because we trusted each other."
A streak of radian light tore across the battlefield—Sylvara's arrow. The monstrous brute it struck let out a strangled snarl before falling silent. Sylvara exhaled sharply. "And we did. Because you believed in us."
Eryndor raised his staff high. Thunder cracked, the winds howling as he sent enemies flying. "Even when we doubted ourselves," his voice, tight with urgency, slipped through the bond. "You reminded us why we were chosen."
Kael's figure blurred as he slashed through enemies with deadly precision. Darkness writhed around him, feeding off his power. "And you never gave up on us. Even when I said I'd rather drink than fight."
Sentinel's heart clenched. He felt their resolve, the silent weight of their words settling into his bones. They were saying goodbye.
His dragon form tensed, wings snapping open as he roared in defiance. "Stop talking like this is goodbye! We finish this together. No one gets left behind!"
They reached the portal, its energy crackling violently, the air thick with power that burned against their skin. Sentinel felt its pull, heard its eerie whispers clawing at the edges of his mind.
He barely had time to react.
A force slammed into him, sending him hurtling backward. He hit the ground hard, air leaving his lungs in a choked gasp. His wings crumpled beneath him, the impact forcing him back into his human form. Dirt and blood caked his hands as he scrambled up, his head snapping toward them.
Eryndor stood at the forefront, staff still raised.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Sentinel's voice was a jagged wound.
The four stood tall, unmoving. The wind carried Lyra's uneven breaths. Sylvara's fingers clenched around her bow, knuckles white. Kael wiped at his eyes as if cursing himself for the slip. Eryndor exhaled, shoulders straightening under the weight of a decision already made.
Lyra's voice broke through their bond, trembling. "You're our leader, Sentinel. You've carried us this far... now you must carry the world. You promised to protect it. Keep that promise."
Sylvara forced a smirk, but her eyes shone too bright, her fire dimming. "I found a family in all of you. Don't let that be for nothing."
Kael turned last, cocky grin in place, though his throat bobbed with the words he barely held in. "We fought together. Bled together. And now..." A shaky breath. "We end this together. You make sure it meant something."
Eryndor's lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. His steady gaze locked onto Sentinel's, full of the same unshakable resolve Sentinel had once instilled in them. "This is our choice. Lead for us. Live for us."
Before Sentinel could reach them, the four turned toward the portal. Light erupted from their bodies, intertwining in a blinding surge of raw energy.
Their skin cracked, glowing fractures spidering along their forms as the power consumed them. The wind shrieked, the battlefield swallowed in brilliance. Sentinel lunged, arm outstretched—too late.
Their forms flickered. Then shattered.
A final burst of radiance, like stars breaking apart in the night.
Then, nothing.
The explosion rocked the earth, swallowing their cries, their presence, their very existence. The portal imploded, sucking in the chaos before collapsing into silence.
Only silence.
Sentinel fell to his knees. His hands clenched at the dirt where they had stood. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body shaking as the weight of the emptiness crushed him. His head tilted back, chest tightening with something unbearable.
His roar split the sky.
"NOOOOOO!"
"Sir!"
The voice cut through the fog of memory, sharp and clear. It shattered the illusion, pulling Sentinel from the past like a stone pulled from water. His fingers tightened around the worn photo frame, the edges frayed from countless years of being held, his touch instinctive, as though afraid the image would slip away.
Golden eyes blinked back the remnants of tears, his gaze softening as it met Cassandra's. Her presence felt like an anchor to the present, grounding him in the world he inhabited now.
The young witch in her thirties standing behind him, Cassandra Vex, her gaze heavy with understanding. Her violet robes shimmered in the dim light, the ancient runes etched across them flickering softly. Her hair, neatly tied back, framed her face in a quiet dignity, yet there was something in the way she watched him—an unspoken knowing.
"Sir..." she said again, her voice a soft ripple in the stillness. Her tone was gentle, laced with something more: concern. "Are you here again? In this room? Missing them?"
Sentinel's chest tightened as he took a slow breath, exhaling through his nose. His hand reached up instinctively, brushing away the remnants of unshed tears, a futile attempt to mask the depth of the sorrow beneath. He straightened himself, his back stiffening as the weight of leadership returned. Yet, the crack in his posture, a slight sag in his shoulders, betrayed the toll of centuries.
His eyes fell to the photo frame. The faces in the picture smiled back at him—five warriors in a rare moment of peace. His own youthful face, captured in a fleeting smile. Their identical infinity pendants shimmered in the light, now just pieces of metal in a forgotten story.
"I will never forget them," he murmured, his voice thick, steady yet carrying the gravity of a thousand lifetimes.
Cassandra stepped closer, her gaze drawn to the photo with the familiarity of someone who had heard their names whispered in the dark, their sacrifices recounted by older generations. The Protectors. She had heard the stories. But to Sentinel, it was not history. It was his life.
"Sometimes," his voice dropped lower, and he looked away from the photo, his fingers lightly tracing its edge, as if trying to hold on to the faces. "I envy humans."
His words hung in the air, distant, as if they belonged to another person. "Their lives are fleeting... and with it, their grief, their burdens. They don't carry the weight of eternity." He paused, his jaw tightening. "But we... our lives stretch far beyond theirs. We outlive everything. And by the time we've lived long enough to understand... we're just children carrying memories older than the world itself."
Cassandra's hand hesitated for a moment before placing itself lightly on his arm. The contact was gentle but grounding, her grip steady as she met his gaze. "Sir," she said firmly, her voice carrying the conviction of someone who had walked beside him for years, "there's a reason your friends chose you. They knew you could do this. Only you."
Her words wrapped around him like a lifeline, but they couldn't erase the gnawing emptiness. He looked at her, his golden eyes searching, a silent plea for understanding. Slowly, he nodded, but the hollow ache in his chest remained.
"I just..." He broke off, his voice faltering. He turned back to the photo, his fingers brushing over the frozen smiles of his fallen comrades. "I just wish they could see it. All of it. The peace they died for."
"They are here," Cassandra said, her voice a whisper now, but filled with a strength that anchored his soul. "In every life you've saved. In every choice you've made. They live on through you."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Sentinel's grip on the photo tightened, his knuckles pale against the frame. Then, with a quiet motion, he set it down on a nearby table. The infinity pendants lay beside it, their once-glowing light now extinguished, lifeless.
"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice soft but sincere. "You remind me why I must keep going."
Cassandra took a step closer, her expression softening. "You know, sir... every time I look at you, I see them. The strength, the hope they gave us. And I see you, carrying that light forward." Her gaze softened, sorrow and admiration intermingling. "You may feel their absence, but you embody their spirit. They believed in you. And so do I."
Sentinel's lips twitched, the ghost of a smile forming on his face. He met her gaze for a moment, the weight of their shared history lingering between them. The flicker of resolve, faint but undeniable, sparked in his eyes.
Cassandra's voice broke the stillness again, this time lighter, almost teasing. "Now, come on, sir. We have work to do. The ceremony is in two days. There's a lot to prepare for the gathering at the Luminaries' Sanctum."
Sentinel nodded, his somber expression shifting into something quieter, more determined. "Then let's get to it."
As he moved toward the doorway, Cassandra hesitated, a thought clearly on her mind. "Wait, sir..."
He turned, brow furrowing. "What is it?"
She took a steadying breath, gathering her courage. "I think... it's time, Sir. We should remove the spell I cast on you and your dragon form, Vaelthar. The one for disguise. Let them know the truth. Who you really are—not just the Guardian, but one of the Protectors of Zephyros."
The ancient beast that was a part of him, his true form hidden beneath layers of deception, spoke with quiet strength. The past is a blade. Wield it carelessly, and it will cut deeper than any enemy's strike.
A long silence followed. Sentinel stood motionless, his golden eyes darkening with quiet resolution. When he spoke, his voice was firm, unyielding. "No."
Cassandra's frown deepened, but she didn't flinch. "Why not? After all this time—"
"They died that day," Sentinel's voice dropped, steady and cold, cutting through the room like a knife. "And with them, Sentinel Drakonis, the leader of the Protectors, died. I am not that man anymore." He stepped forward, his presence heavy, like a storm gathering. "The world doesn't need him. It needs a Guardian. That's who I am now. Sentinel Emberwing. Nothing more."
Vaelthar's voice rumbled deep within his mind, steady as a mountain. You are not alone in this, Sentinel. Their loss is yours... but it is mine, too. And as long as I draw breath, I will stand beside you. Always.
The words stirred something within him. Yet, his jaw tightened as he looked at the infinity pendants on the table. "The world remembers them as heroes. They should. But my role is not to wear that mantle. It's to ensure their sacrifice is never forgotten."
The room fell into quiet once again, the silence thick with unspoken words. Cassandra nodded, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "As you wish, sir. But... maybe one day, you'll let them know. Let yourself heal."
As they walked toward the gate, the faint glimmer of the photo frame and pendants lingered behind them—a quiet echo of a past that refused to fade, even after a thousand years. Sentinel's footsteps echoed through the halls, steady and resolute, carrying the weight of memory into an uncertain future.