At the entrance, Drael stood like a statue of iron, his shield planted firmly in the earth. The dull light glinted across its scarred surface as he kept his gaze fixed outward, watching the shadows.
Beside him, Veyra crouched near a cluster of rocks, half-hidden from view. Her bow was drawn, the string tight, arrow ready. She didn't blink—her eyes followed the dark with quiet precision.
Sylus moved like mist, slipping in and out of the tunnels that led deeper into the mountains. When he finally returned, his steps were silent, but his words carried a chill.
"Nothing. Yet."
That single word hung in the air like a whisper of dread.
High above, Ember perched on a jagged crystal ledge. Her wings were folded close, her feathers faintly humming with the storm's energy. The silver glow in her eyes swept over the group—protective, steady, alive. She watched not as a beast, but as a guardian reborn.
The rest worked in quiet determination, mining deeper into the crystal veins. Each fragment they unearthed shimmered with soft light—hope made solid in their hands. Yet with every crystal they gathered, the same thought pressed heavier on their hearts.
Lord Veythar would return.
And when he did, it wouldn't be with a handful of soldiers—it would be with the full weight of his army.
Near the barricade, Renn stacked broken shields against the cave wall, his movements tired but steady. He glanced toward the entrance and muttered under his breath, "Feels like we're digging while the wolves circle us."
No one argued. His words sank into the silence, heavy and true.
Karl paused mid-step, hearing Renn's words echo softly through the cave. The faint clatter of tools slowed, as if everyone had silently agreed with that uneasy truth.
He turned toward his people—his small, battered group who had stood against death and still endured. Their faces were tired, marked with bruises and streaks of dust, but their eyes still carried that fragile spark of defiance.
Karl walked to the center of the cavern, the glow of the crystals painting his armor in shifting hues of blue and gold. "Renn's right," he said quietly, his voice steady but edged with weight. "But we are not prey."
He looked up toward Ember, perched high above them. Her silver eyes met his, a silent promise passing between them. Then he turned back to the group. "We have this mine. We have essence, crystals, and time—though not much of it. We'll use every moment to grow stronger. To prepare."
The word seemed to awaken something in them. Even through pain and fatigue, their shoulders straightened, their gazes hardened.
The group moved at once, the silence replaced by purposeful motion—the rhythmic clang of weapons, the scrape of stone, the low hum of magic building once more.
Make smooth transition
Bit by bit, the crystals began to pile. Their faint blue glow danced across tired faces and worn armor, lighting the darkness with quiet determination.
Karl counted each one as it was carefully placed beside him—forty-six Bronze I crystals, fourteen of Bronze II, two of Bronze III, and one silver I essence crystal from the serpentine beast they had slain earlier.
It was the greatest harvest they had ever claimed, both from cave's harvest and the fallen enemies
There was more hidden inside—rich veins waiting, riches hidden in the rock. All it would take was time.
And time is that they did not have.
The mine was their salvation, but the air itself seemed to press heavier with every passing moment. In the silence between hammer strikes, Karl could almost feel it—the pull of fate drawing closer.
Karl's gaze drifted to the glowing panel before him, the faint blue letters reflecting in his tired eyes. The Sanctuary Barrier—the invisible shield protecting their home—had less than two and a half hours left.
A slow chill crept through his chest. When that barrier fell, the wild beasts of the wilderness would surge in, drawn by scent and sound, by the life and energy within the barrier.
If that happened, their base would be overrun. The sanctuary would crumble. And with it, everything that made him a Lord: his privileges, his command, his right to protect those who had chosen to live under his care.
The thought stung more than any wound.
He looked around the cave again—the glowing crystals, the scattered tools, the faint hum of Ember's wings above.
The mine was precious, yes. Its crystals were power, safety, and progress.
But as he stood there, he could almost see the faces of the people waiting inside his sanctuary—those who could not fight, who depended on him. Farmers. Craftsmen. Children. They were his responsibility.
He could not abandon them.
Not for greed.
Not for more crystals.
Not for anything.
The weight of that decision pressed heavier than any enemy blade. For a long moment, the cave was silent except for the soft crackle of torches and the faint drip of water echoing off the stone.
Finally, Karl spoke, his tone quiet but unwavering, but once spoken, it carried no resistance. They would barricade the mine—seal it as best they could—and retreat before the sanctuary's protection ended. Better to live with what they had than lose everything for hunger of more.
The words settled over them like a calm after storm. One by one, they nodded. Even the clang of tools softened, replaced by the careful rhythm of building defenses.
The words settled over them like a calm after the storm. One by one, they nodded, accepting Karl's decision without question. Even the clang of tools softened, replaced by the careful rhythm of rebuilding.
They split into motion. Tarran, Renn, and Grok gathered fallen weapons and shattered shields, stacking them near the mouth of the cave.
Drael heaved heavy stones into place, his armor scraping against rock with each push. Thorn knelt beside him, weaving hardened vines through the gaps—tightening, binding, strengthening every weak point until the barricade began to take shape like a living wall.
Veyra and Sylus moved swiftly through the cavern, collecting what remained of their spoils. By the time they returned, they had recovered five more Bronze I crystals and two Bronze II—small gains, but precious all the same.
High above, Ember circled in silent vigilance. Her wings cast fleeting shadows over the cave walls as she watched for danger beyond the ridges. The faint shimmer of her aura glowed against the dark, a wordless promise of protection.
When the last crystal was packed and the final stone wedged into place, the group gathered before the sealed entrance. Dust drifted down from the ceiling, and the air hung heavy with exhaustion—but also with resolve.
Karl looked at their work—a wall of steel, stone, and living vines, strong enough to hold against the wild for now. He drew a slow breath and nodded.
"It's done."
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