Chapter 55 – The Shield of the Gate
The gates of Alexandria groaned under the strain of the night.
Great doors of ironbound oak, once symbols of the city's strength, now rattled as claws and fangs battered them from the outside. Each thunderous strike shook their frame, sending splinters raining down onto the cobblestones. The hinges shrieked, straining against the ceaseless onslaught. Every impact was answered by a chorus of screams within, civilians pressed together in fear.
Torches burned along the battlements, their flames whipping in the hot wind of fire sweeping through the city. Smoke curled through the streets, stinging eyes, choking lungs, blurring the night into shades of orange and black. Yet still the women of Alexandria stood their ground.
Warriors clad in battered armor pressed their shoulders together, shields locked tight. They had been raised since childhood to fight with sword and shield, to defend their queen, their city, their people. Tonight that oath would be tested as never before.
"Hold!" cried a captain at the line's center, her voice hoarse from shouting. "Hold until the gates close!"
But arms trembled. Shields splintered. For every monster cut down, three more pressed forward, their claws raking steel, their maws snapping for flesh. The cobblestones were slick with blood, and fear gnawed at the formation's edges.
---
Among them, a young recruit struggled to steady her breathing. She had been drafted only weeks before, her training barely complete. The weight of her shield felt like stone, her sword slick with sweat. Her knuckles were white, her pulse frantic.
She tried not to look at the gates—tried not to imagine them bursting apart. We can't hold this. The gate will fall. We'll all die here…
A roar split the night, and her worst fear came charging.
A beast surged past broken shields, its claws raised high. It barreled straight for her. She froze. Her body refused to move. Too slow to raise her sword, too weak to lift her shield.
This was the end.
---
A wall of steel intercepted the strike.
The impact rang like thunder as claw met shield, sparks showering across the cobblestones. The recruit gasped, blinking through tears of smoke. Someone stood before her, holding the line where she had faltered.
He was young—no older than herself—but his stance was steady, his shield unmoving. With a roar of effort, he shoved the beast back, then drove his sword into its chest. The monster collapsed with a guttural cry.
The young man planted himself at the front, shield lifted high. His voice carried above the chaos, firm and commanding.
"Fall back behind me! I'll hold the line!"
---
The recruit blinked. "W-Who are you?"
He didn't glance at her, his eyes fixed on the tide of shadows beyond the gate.
"Reks," he answered simply.
---
His name spread like wildfire.
"Reks?"
"Who is he?"
"No matter—he fights like a wall!"
And indeed, he did. Every strike crashed against his shield, but he refused to yield. His sword cut with precision, not wasteful swings but measured, disciplined strikes. He filled gaps where others faltered, steadied those on the brink of collapse.
Where fear threatened to shatter the line, his presence bound it together.
---
The recruit felt shame at her hesitation, but something else burned brighter—hope. She pressed her shield beside his, voice trembling but determined. "Then I'll fight with you."
Reks didn't look her way, but his voice carried approval. "Good. Keep your guard high. Strike when I open them up."
She obeyed. Her spear darted forward, striking the leg of a beast he had blocked. It faltered, and Reks finished it with a clean cut.
Her fear loosened its grip. With him here… maybe we can hold.
---
Behind them, the civilians clutched one another, watching through tear-streaked faces. Mothers whispered prayers. Elders wept. They had been ready to surrender to despair—but now they saw him.
An old woman murmured, "That boy… he's no knight of Alexandria. But look—he fights harder than any of them."
A man holding his wounded wife whispered, "Maybe the gods haven't abandoned us after all."
---
The monsters surged again. One massive beast slammed into the gate itself, the doors groaning under the impact, hinges screeching in protest. Soldiers flinched, terror flooding their eyes.
But Reks stepped forward, raising his shield high. His voice rang out like a bell.
"Listen to me! They will not break this gate. Not while I stand!"
The soldiers stared, stunned—but then their fear shifted to resolve. They pressed forward, locking shields with his.
"For Alexandria!" one captain cried.
"With him!" another shouted.
Their voices rose together, a roar stronger than the monsters' howls.
---
The recruit, sweat dripping into her eyes, dared a glance at him. Blood streaked his cheek, his arms quivered with effort, but his stance never faltered. His gaze burned with defiance.
"Reks…" she whispered. "How do you keep standing?"
His answer came without hesitation.
"Because someone has to."
Her throat tightened. She pressed her shield tighter, her voice firm. "Then I'll stand with you."
Others echoed her words. One by one, the cry spread across the line.
---
The monsters crashed against them like waves against rock. Claws raked, fangs snapped, but the wall held. Reks's shield clanged with each strike, his sword flashing between commands.
"Guard left!"
"Strike now!"
"Push them back!"
Every command sharpened the defense. Every act of courage spread through the ranks.
The civilians, once cowering, now whispered in awe.
"Mama… that man's like a wall."
"Yes," their mothers answered, tears in their eyes. "Our wall."
---
The gates shook again, splinters raining down, but they did not fall.
Not while Reks held them.
---
High above, cloaked in the veil of the Aetherveil, Sirius stood at the viewing deck. Threads of fate shimmered in his vision, weaving together in the tapestry only he could see. He traced Reks's line, watching it blaze brighter with each act of defiance, each shield raised, each soldier steadied by his voice.
"He's no king, no legend," Sirius murmured. "But tonight, he is their shield."
The words hung in the chamber like a vow.
---
By the time dawn touched the horizon, painting the sky with pale fire, the people of Alexandria would carry a new name in their hearts.
Reks—the shield of the gate.