Ioannis_Pavlidis

For centuries, the Veil has stood as the final barrier between the world of the living and the infernal depths of Hell. Forged in forgotten ages, sealed in blood and bone, it has withstood the rise of darkness—but now it is breaking.

Cracks spread through its foundation. Shadows seep through the fractures. Cities burn. Kingdoms fall. And the Guardians of the Veil—sworn to keep the world from ruin—stand alone against the tide of annihilation.

At their head stands Nyroth Solvain, leader of the Guardians and the last shield between order and oblivion. His strength has held the darkness at bay for years. His blade has never failed. His will has never faltered.

But now, another force begins to rise.

His son.

Elian Solvain, young and untested, carries within him power vast enough to shift the tide of war—or break it entirely. The world looks to him as a symbol of hope. The Guardians believe he may be their greatest weapon.

And so does Nyroth.

He does not doubt his son. He does not question his potential. He sees the strength in him, the light that could lead them all. But he has seen power like this before—raw, untamed, and capable of reshaping the world in both creation and ruin.

Nyroth does not voice his fear. He does not waver. Instead, he hardens himself, shaping Elian into what he must become.

Because if Elian does not master his power… it will master him.

The Veil is dying. The darkness is rising. And time is running out.

Elian must stand.
The Guardians must hold.

Or the world will fall into ash and ruin.

The Guardians of the Veil

The gates of Eldris Citadel groaned open, revealing the towering stone walls of the city. Above, the dark sky slowly cleared, and the storm that had ravaged the village seemed to fade into the distance. The city was quiet, as it always was before moments of great change.

Nyroth Solvain, his presence commanding even in silence, led the way with his two closest allies: Ilara Fenryn, the leader of the light users among the guardians, and Zyrran Nyktris, the leader of the darkness users. The trio walked with purpose, their boots clicking softly against the cobblestone path as they moved toward the hall where the council of elders waited. Their footsteps were the only sound in the otherwise still air.

The Guardians had made their way back to the city in a somber procession, their cloaks wet and faces solemn from the battle they had just fought. Now, they stood outside the grand hall, waiting. Nyroth had insisted that only he and the two leaders enter the council room, a decision that left the others with only questions and uncertainty.

Among them, Elian Solvain, Nyroth's son, looked on eagerly. Though young and still finding his place among the Guardians, Elian's potential was undeniable.

"I hate waiting," he muttered under his breath.

Varrian stood nearby, his towering frame casting a long shadow. A man always with a smile across his face, even in the worst of situations. He was the type who preferred to laugh at everything, although his focus never wavering from the task at hand. His hammer hung at his side, worn and tested in countless battles. He glanced at Elian. "It's not easy, waiting. But you'll get used to it little one", he said, his voice low but with a hint of understanding.

Elian didn't answer. He didn't want to get used to it. He was the son of Nyroth Solvain, heir to a legacy greater than any other Guardian. And yet, here he stood, watching, while others decided the fate of the world.

Siris leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. "They'll be fine. Your father's got that 'intimidating silence' thing down to an art."

Elian forced a chuckle, but his mind was elsewhere. Why wasn't he inside that chamber? Why wasn't he part of the conversation? He had trained for years. He wasn't just a boy anymore. He had fought, bled, and pushed himself to exhaustion, but it never seemed to be enough.

Dren, quieter than the rest, spoke without looking at him. "It's not just about fighting, Elian. You'll have your moment. When it comes, be ready."

Elian clenched his fists. I am ready. But was that the truth? Or just what he wanted to believe?

The doors to the council room remained closed, silent and heavy as the Guardians waited. Each of them had their own thoughts, their own fears, but all knew the truth—what had begun in the village was only a small part of a larger threat. What lay ahead, in the council chambers, would shape the future.

CHAPTER 2: The Gates of Eldris