The sound of stone grinding on stone was louder than thunder. The Great Protector shifted its weight, a movement that caused a localized earthquake, sending snow cascading down the slopes in massive avalanches that buried the shadow-beasts.
Kael was a young shepherd who spent his days in the high pastures, often leaning his back against the Protector’s massive stone boot. He didn’t believe the old stories—that the statue was a living titan turned to stone, waiting for the world’s end to wake. To him, it was just rock, weathered by wind and moss. The Great Protector
The village was safe, but the statue was stone once more. Kael realized then that the Protector wasn't a god or a machine; it was a sentry. And as long as the bronze heart remained, Aethelgard would never truly be alone in the dark. The sound of stone grinding on stone was louder than thunder
To the children, it was a legend. To the elders, it was a reminder of a forgotten debt. He didn’t believe the old stories—that the statue
The village of Aethelgard sat in the palm of a jagged mountain range, a tiny spark of life in a world of ice. For generations, the villagers had lived in the shadow of the , a colossal statue of a knight carved directly into the highest peak . Its stone sword was leveled at the horizon, and its blank eyes stared eternally toward the Northern Wastes.
Kael looked up from the pasture. The Great Protector was no longer on its pedestal. It stood three miles North, knee-deep in a frozen lake, its sword now pointed toward a different horizon. Its pose was different—more alert, more weary.
That changed on the night the sky turned the color of a bruised plum.