The air inside the central hut was heavy.
Not from smoke alone, though it still seeped in faintly through cracks in the stone.
It was heavy because no one knew what came next.
Thirty survivors stood packed into the circular chamber beneath the Kuprix dome. Some were wounded. Some were shaking. Children clung to their mothers without speaking. The high windows near the ceiling admitted thin shafts of dim rainforest light, dust drifting through them like ash.
Outside, Verdantis Nexus was burning.
The village had been nearly two hundred people.
Now it was thirty.
Tlandar stood near his family, his hands stiff at his sides. His mind kept returning to the outskirts—the farmland terraces where workers had been caught first, too far from shelter.
The screaming had not stopped quickly enough.
Kaelis remained rigid beside him, jaw clenched. Almira held the girls close, whispering broken prayers into their hair.
At the far end of the chamber, the raised pulpit still stood intact.
For generations, the elders had sat there to give discourses, settle disputes, and speak of harmony.
Now it overlooked thirty terrified survivors.
Six elders gathered at its base, faces pale with strain.
They were not warriors.
They were the keepers of Verdantis.
One of them, Elder Kaeliskun Varethun, stepped forward. His voice was low, meant to steady rather than command.
"You are alive," he said.
A bitter laugh came from somewhere in the crowd.
Alive.
Outside, their homes were being torn apart.
Kaeliskun's gaze did not waver.
"We will mourn," he continued. "But not yet. Not while you still breathe."
Another elder, Elder Tlaakwyn Sahrin, lifted her hand gently.
"The barrier holds," she said. "Listen."
The survivors fell quiet.
Only then did many of them notice the hum in the air.
A faint ringing beneath their feet.
The protective field still surrounded the hut.
They had seen what happened when the marauders tested it—how the air itself burned them back.
Tlandar swallowed hard.
"How long will it last?" he asked, voice raw.
Kaeliskun's eyes softened.
"Longer than they expect," he replied. "Not forever. But long enough."
He turned and placed his palm against the stone of the pulpit.
"The crystals beneath us are awake."
A murmur rippled through the survivors.
Everyone in Verdantis knew the central hut was not built from stone alone.
But no one spoke of what lay underneath.
Kaeliskun continued.
"Under this floor are the Nakh'Khosirek."
The word carried weight.
Heart-Guardians.
Living crystals.
Not mined.
Not forged.
Alive.
"They are not objects," Elder Tlaakwyn said quietly. "They are entities. They remember. They protect."
Tlandar stared at the pulpit, as if he could see through it.
All his life, he had listened to elders speak of peace from that platform.
He had never imagined something living was listening back.
Kaeliskun's voice darkened.
"That is why the marauders came."
The survivors stiffened.
"They did not come for cattle," he said. "They did not come for grain."
"They came for the Heart-Guardians."
A woman's breath caught.
Kaeliskun nodded.
"The Ixtielan marauders love bloodshed and loot. But they are not fools."
He leaned forward.
"The Nakh'Khosirek can be hacked from the floor. Sold. Traded."
"For what?" someone whispered.
Elder Tlaakwyn answered immediately.
"For an unimaginable amount of Kuprix."
The hut fell silent.
Even the children seemed to sense the meaning.
Those crystals were worth more than a village.
More than lives.
Outside, the marauders had slaughtered the outskirts first because the farmland had no walls.
Only people.
Kaeliskun straightened.
"But they are charged now."
He lifted his hand slightly.
"All six of us poured our resonance into them. Together."
"That is why the barrier holds."
His hands trembled.
"It will endure for some time."
Relief broke through the fear like a crack in stone.
Someone began to cry openly.
Not from panic.
From exhaustion.
From the smallest shred of hope.
But outside…
The marauders did not leave.
They did not rush the barrier again.
They had already watched one of their own burn the moment he crossed the invisible perimeter.
That was enough.
The Ixtielans were brutal, but they were patient.
So instead of charging…
They waited.
They spread through the ruins of Verdantis Nexus like scavengers. Boots crunched over ash-covered stone. Dark figures moved through broken homes and shattered terraces.
Then, one by one…
They vanished.
A shimmer passed over their armor.
A distortion in the air, like heat above fire.
Their cloaking devices activated, wrapping them in holographic veils that bent light around their bodies.
Not true invisibility—
but enough.
Enough to become shadows.
Patrolling.
Watching.
Encircling the heart of the village.
Their voices carried softly through comm-crystals.
"Hold position."
"Do not waste blood."
"The elders will weaken."
"The field cannot last forever."
They had come for the living crystals.
They would not leave without them.
Inside the hut, the survivors did not see the cloaked figures.
They did not know the village was surrounded.
Only Tlandar felt it.
A pressure.
A wrongness in the air beyond the walls.
He stood near one of the high windows, staring out into the empty square.
Empty…
And yet not empty.
His grip tightened around his staff.
Kaelis approached quietly.
"What is it?"
Tlandar swallowed.
"They're still here," he whispered.
His father stiffened.
Kaeliskun heard him.
The elder's expression hardened.
"Yes," he murmured. "They are waiting."
Elder Tlaakwyn's voice was quiet.
"And we cannot stay sealed forever."
The barrier hummed faintly beneath the pulpit, alive but strained.
Living crystals could protect…
But even living things grew tired.
Outside, cloaked marauders paced unseen.
Inside, thirty survivors held their breath.
Verdantis Nexus was no longer a home.
It was a siege.
And the shadows were patient.