Meanwhile, across Aetheria, the night remained thick with tension. The front line of foot soldiers advanced in disciplined formation, their armor catching the cold gleam of moonlight. They had expected to face the Keriosi emissaries beyond the gates yet now they stood before the Temple of the Sacred Aether. Confused glances passed between them; this was not the battlefield they had prepared for.

  At the rear of the formation, King Theron sat astride his horse, his gaze fixed ahead. Beside him, an old man draped in flowing black robes rode in eerie silence. His long white hair and beard billowed in the night breeze, giving him the appearance of a phantom. In his grasp, a crooked staff crowned with a glass sphere pulsed with a sinister red glow, casting flickering shadows across the soldiers.

  Theron raised a hand and gave the command. “Break down the gates!”

  The soldiers moved swiftly, exchanging uncertain glances, but their confusion didn’t slow their hands as they set about readying the battering ram. Before they could act, however, the old man raised his wooden staff. The glass dome atop it blazed to life, its glow swelling with ominous intensity.

  “No need for brute force... Allow me the honor, Your Majesty.” The old caretaker said as he dismounted from his horse, he strode toward the temple gates alone, his steps slow, deliberate. Raising his staff, he whispered an incantation in an ancient tongue, his voice thick with power.

  The air around him shimmered, vibrating with unseen energy. A crimson aura coiled around the staff, growing larger with each syllable until the gathered force reached its peak.

  With a flick of his wrist, the old man thrust the energy forward.

  A crimson aura coiled around the staff, humming so violently the air itself seemed to shrink away. The silence before the detonation was suffocating.

  Then a sound exploded— BOOM

  The explosion shattered the temple’s solemn silence. The gates groaned under the impact before splitting apart, fragments of sacred wood aflame and metal scattering like arrows across the temple grounds. The night swallowed the echoes of destruction, leaving only a gaping wound where the once-imposing doors had stood.

  The explosion rolled through the night like thunder. Even from his horse, Theron felt the tremor ripple up through the ground. Inside the temple, distant figures stirred as the sacred gates burst apart. The cries that followed told him all he needed to know. The custodians had realized what was happening.

  Rezar’s head snapped up at the deafening sound. He was deep within the temple halls, feeling the tremor beneath his feet as the temple gate was blasted open. For a brief moment, his heart clenched with disbelief. But there was no time to dwell on the shock. It was quite obvious; they were under attack.

  The soldiers poured in, their armor gleaming beneath the fractured moonlight that spilled through the shattered gates. Like a flood of steel, they surged forward, swords drawn, their disciplined march turning sacred ground into a battlefield. Their boots pounded against the temple’s ancient stones, yet none dared question why they had been sent to desecrate this place of worship.

  Above the courtyard, Grand Overseer Omid Faris rushed to investigate the explosion, his heart pounding as he reached the tower’s edge. He froze at the sight below —royal soldiers storming the sacred temple. His hands tightened around the railing, his breath quickening. Then, his voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

  “Defend the temple! Hold them back!”

  His roar reverberated through the temple halls, a call to arms that sent ripples of urgency through every custodian.

  In the main hall, Master Rezar moved swiftly, his dark robes billowing as he joined his fellow custodians. Fear flickered in their eyes, but there was no hesitation in their movements. They had been trained for this—though none had ever imagined the day would come when they would have to defend their sanctuary from their own kingdom.

  Theron rode in on horseback, flanked by his royal guards and the old man beside him. The air reeked of ash and sweat. From his saddle, Theron watched his men tear through the temple grounds like a tide of steel. Their boots hammered against the stone, their shouts mingling with the crackle of fire and the hiss of magic. His cold gaze swept over the battlefield as soldiers broke through into the courtyard, their relentless advance pressing against the temple’s defenders.

  At the forefront of the custodians stood Master Rezar, unmoving, his grip firm on his sword. With a swift motion, he clenched his right fist, and the ancient symbols etched into his custodian gauntlet flared to life, crackling with blue energy. He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he called upon the power of the Aether.

  "Ready yourselves," Rezar growled to the custodians beside him, his voice steady, unyielding. "They will not pass."

  Then, the first wave struck.

  Steel met steel in a violent clash, the air ringing with the sharp cries of battle. But the custodians were no ordinary swordsmen. They fought with blade and magic, their movements seamless as they weaved spells between parries and slashes.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Rezar ducked beneath a soldier’s reckless swing, then thrust his hand forward, releasing a concussive blast of wind. The soldier was hurled backward, slamming into the stone wall with a sickening crack. To his side, a fellow custodian twirled her staff, its tip glowing a fiery red before flames erupted from her palms, engulfing the battlefield in a searing inferno.

  Another swordsman charged at Rezar, blade flashing under the moonlight. He met the strike with his own sword, sparks flying as metal clashed against metal. With a powerful shove, he drove the soldier back, spinning away to raise his hand. A shimmering shield of light materialized just in time to absorb the impact of another incoming attack.

  Then, with a flick of his wrist, Rezar dismissed the shield and thrust his palm forward. Fire surged from his fingertips, engulfing the soldier before him in an instant. The man’s screams were lost in the roaring flames as his armor glowed white-hot, his body collapsing into the dust.

  All around him, the battle raged. Custodians unleashed torrents of wind, sending soldiers sprawling across the temple grounds. Barriers of radiant energy shimmered into existence, shielding defenders from a deadly rain of arrows. The air pulsed with raw magic—lightning crackling, fire dancing, the scent of burnt steel and blood thick in the night.

  Yet the soldiers did not falter. For every one that fell, another took his place, pressing forward with relentless determination.

  Rezar barely had a moment to recover before a heavyset knight bore down on him, sword arcing toward his head. He met the blow with a grunt, the impact reverberating up his arm. Gritting his teeth, he pushed back, driving his blade across the knight’s chest. Blood spattered the stone, but before he could finish the job, another soldier was already upon him.

  The courtyard was a chaotic blur of steel and magic. Custodians fought with desperation, their spells growing more erratic as the tide of soldiers overwhelmed them. Fireballs exploded in the air, wind gusts howled, and magical shields flickered under the strain of constant attacks.

  Rezar stumbled backward as he blocked another strike, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His muscles ached from the constant battle, and his magic reserves were beginning to dwindle. He cast a glance toward the tower where the Grand Overseer stood, his figure still commanding as he cast powerful spells from above.

  Omid’s hands wove intricate symbols in the air, summoning a barrier of lightning that crackled around a group of custodians, protecting them from the oncoming assault. But even from his vantage point, he could see that they were losing ground. The soldiers were pushing them back, their numbers far too great to hold off for long.

  "We need reinforcements!" a custodian shouted, his voice barely cutting through the chaos of battle.

  "Hold the inner hall!" Rezar barked back, parrying a soldier’s strike. He shoved the attacker away, then unleashed a powerful gust of wind, sending the man crashing into the stone walls.

  Rezar barely had time to catch his breath before another soldier lunged. He sidestepped the thrust and countered with a swift slash, his blade carving into flesh. The soldier staggered back, gasping, but before Rezar could finish him, searing pain tore through his side—a blade piercing his armor. He stumbled forward, blood soaking his robes.

  The courtyard was slipping from their grasp. The custodians, once a steadfast line of defense, were being driven back toward the inner hall, their formation unraveling beneath the relentless assault.

  "We can’t hold them!" a young custodian cried; his voice laced with panic.

  Rezar wiped blood from his side, gripping his sword tighter. "We will hold," he growled. "We must!"

  His breath came ragged, vision blurred by sweat and pain. The wound in his side burned, but he forced himself to stand. The battle raged around him—flashes of steel, bursts of magic and the cries of the wounded. Custodians fought desperately, their powers flickering like dying embers against the overwhelming tide of soldiers.

  They were slowing. He could see it in their movements, their strikes losing precision and their bodies faltering. One by one, they started to fall.

  Rezar deflected a blow, then another, his arms moving on instinct alone. Every strike sent jolts of pain through his battered body, but he kept going. He had no choice. He wasn’t fighting with strategy anymore, just sheer will.

  A soldier charged, sword flashing. Rezar barely turned his blade in time, the impact jolting through his bones. But the physical toll was nothing compared to what he saw around him—his students, his brothers and sisters, collapsing under the enemy’s relentless advance. They had trained for battle, but never for this.

  The soldiers closed in, three against one. Rezar fought to hold his ground, parrying their strikes, but his movements were slowing. Each breath was labored, his chest rising and falling with the effort to stay upright. Blood seeped from his side, pooling at his feet. His vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges.

  Then he felt a jolt of pain, as a blade tore across his back, cutting deep into muscle. Rezar gasped, his knees giving way as fire surged through his body. He hit the stone, his sword slipping from his grasp, the clang drowned by the roar of battle.

  From a distance, Theron watched. There was something almost admirable in Rezar’s defiance. Even on his knees, he reached for his fallen blade, fingers trembling but determined. His body was failing, yet his spirit refused to yield. His eyes lifted, searching for—

  Theron followed his gaze to the tower.

  The Grand Overseer Omid Faris stood silhouetted against the night sky, his voice carrying over the battlefield. Even from afar, Theron saw the fear in his eyes. The dawning realization that it was over for them. Their temple, their home, was lost.

  Omid's eyes met with Rezar's who kneeled on the ground, and for a fleeting moment, a silent understanding passed between them.

  Theron watched them realize this was their end. Then, without hesitation, he turned to the soldier who had struck Rezar and drew a line across his throat.

  Then the final blow came as the royal sword pierced through Rezar's chest.

  His breath hitched, his body jolting as cold steel drove through him. The sharp agony cut through the haze, but only for a moment. His fingers grasped at the blade as if to pull it free, but his strength had already left him.

  The temple’s golden light dimmed, swallowed by encroaching darkness. The world blurred. Soldier stood over him, a faceless shadow. But then one figure came closer as it became clear —a dark robed figure with a crooked staff and white beard, watching him with one good eye and a quiet satisfaction.

  Rezar’s gaze locked onto him, recognition flickering in his fading eyes.

  "You... it's you!" he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. Confusion and shock flickered in his eyes mere moments before they became lifeless like a glass.

  And then, Rezar was still.

  Above the chaos, Theron looked to the tower, Omid watching as his hand froze mid-sigil and in that stillness, he knew, his master guardian had fallen. But little did he know, the night of flames Theron had brought, had only just begun.

  ***