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In an age before banners and borders, when darkness wore human faces and hope was scarce. There was a lone swordman, no one can remember his name - only that his blade never shook and his eyes never turned away from those in needs.
He did not seek followers nor patronage - he found and choose them.
One by one, he gathered four lost souls;
The first he found was the Shield, standing alone at the ruins of a fallen town - holding the line long after the battle was lost.
The second was the Hunter who had learned to survive by never missing 'cause missing a single shot would have cost her family's lives.
The third was the Mind, sharpened by loss - whose plans were born from knowing exactly how things fall.
The last was different.
She did not stand in ruins nor knelt beside them - he found her inside a cave resurrecting a rabbit, he offer his hands to the Mender and she took it.
They swore no oath to kings nor gods, beneath the lunar's light they swore to each other that whatever happens they will protect one another.
People called them The Sentinels - watchers at the edge of despair.
Their legend grew slowly. Not through songs but through survival.
Villages that should have been vanished endured, roads that was eaten by the darkness became safe. People learned to look to the horizon hoping to see five figures against the dusk and when the dark fell, people whispered the same hope; "The Sentinels willcome."
Yet even in victory, imbalance lingered.
When praises were given only to the blade, the shield, the hunter and the mind but never to the mender - it was always doubts and questions.
"She only heals, she stay behind and do nothing - she just watch and wait for them to get hurt" some said
"She only follows, even the priests in the temple can do better than her" others claimed
"Why did blade decided to take her?" most of them question
But the truth revealed itself the day that the shield broke.
It was an ambush - perfectly laid, mercilessly executed. Steel pierced directly through the shield's core, his heart. As the sun set, breath gone and eyes empty - the sentinels shield died.
The world expects grief in such moments but the remaining sentinels did not weaver. Instead, the mender placed her hands upon the shield and reached beyond the edge of life, beyond the place one mender dares to go.
Time seemed to hesitate.
"I'll cover you. Take as much time as you need to bring our friend back!" the blade's words
That night, a mark appeared on her neck; a pale butterfly, wings etched as if burned from within.
"A price for a life." she look at her friends and smile
"I... I apologize" the shield said and kneel in front of her with a painful and depressed look at his face
"Didn't we say - we protect each other." she smile and gave him a bowl of hot soup and bread
Word of her power escaped the silence.
Whispers became rumors, rumors became fear and finally fear reached the ears of rulers who understood one thing clearly; anything that defies death cannot be controlled.
The Sentinels were summoned, praised and accused when they decided to turn down a crown's control. What once made them heroes now made them a threat and a enemy.
Edicts were written, bounties were declared then armies marched - not against monsters but against those who once had saved them.
Battles blurred into one another and each victory came heavier than the last. They fought not to conquer but to escape but one by one - they fell and each time she brought them back, the butterfly grew and multiply - across her arms, her back, her throat and this made her weak but she never hesitated, not even once.
When the hunter fell beneath a rain of arrows, she revived her.
When the mind was crushed beneath a collapsed gate, she revived him.
When the blade himself was struck down protecting her, she revived him with shaking hands and failing breath.
"No more..." the blade asked of her but she smiled weakly and continue to heals all of their wounds
Then the dawn came beneath a sky heavy with ash. Surrounded on all sides, the sentinels stood as they always had - together.
They fought until strength failed.
They died as they had lived - protecting each other, protecting her.
She knelt among their bodies as the battlefield fell silent.
She laughed quietly.
"What for?" the butterflies now covered her completely, radiant and terrible, she became a full bloom of sacrifice.
"So this is the end that everyone chose..." she whispered, she look around as tears starts falling from her eyes "Then curse this land..." she look at the sky and smile
"I CURSE IT TO FALL!!" she shouted
She activated a divine circle, pouring every single drop of power and energy she have left - she gave the last of herself.
The Sentinels rose once more.
The night grows quiet and hope feels thin as breath - the war ended without triumph. The armies withdrew, shaken by what they had witnessed.
When death should be final, yet its not -
The Sentinels disappeared from the world that day but their deeds remains and was written down in the history and because of that everything changed - they became once again the heroes but never answer a needed who hoped for them ever again.
The elders say;
"When a single white butterfly took flight and vanished into the smoke -"
"Did they all die?" a man in cape asked the elder
The elder look at him "Only one"
The man in cape walk away and took out a single apple, he look around observing the town market
'It changed... so much' he thought to himself then a strong wind came
"It sure did blade" he look behind him as soon as he heard her voice
Suddenly A white butterfly flew pass him.
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