The first watcher stepped forward, its hollow eyes burning with pale light. The others followed, emerging from the walls like shadows given weight. Their movements were deliberate, heavy, and yet there was no malice in them.
Lyra lifted her blade, fire glinting off the molten edge. "Say the word, Kaelen, and I'll cut them down."
But Kaelen held out his hand. "Wait."
The watchers didn't advance to strike. They circled. Dozens of them. Their mouths hung open, but no words came—only a low hum, vibrating through the stone, through the air, through him.
The candle-bearer clutched their flame, wincing. "It's not sound. It's command. They're trying to… rewrite us."
The hum swelled, and Kaelen felt his chest tighten. For a moment, he wasn't standing in the Tower—he was back in the flames of the burning colony, his hands drenched in soot, Lyra's scream echoing from somewhere he couldn't reach. His fire flickered, betraying his focus.
Lyra staggered, eyes wide, seeing something only she could. Her blade dimmed as her breath quickened.
The watchers weren't attacking—they were breaking them from within.
"Don't listen!" Kaelen roared, fire erupting around him in a desperate flare. The hum faltered, but didn't stop.
Then, one watcher—taller than the rest—stepped closer. Its hollow mouth moved, shaping something more than sound. Words.
"You do not belong here."
The voice wasn't spoken aloud, but driven straight into their minds. The others repeated it, a haunting chorus, dozens of voices echoing the same phrase.
"You do not belong here."
Lyra's blade wavered. "Kaelen… they're right. We're intruders. What if—what if this isn't our fight?"
Kaelen turned to her sharply, fury burning through the doubt clawing at his chest. "No. Don't let them in. That's what they want."
The candle-bearer's flame flickered violently, then flared—pushing back against the watchers' glow. For the first time, the hollow eyes recoiled.
The taller watcher leaned down toward the small flame, its hollow face inches away. Its voice cracked like breaking stone.
"That light… does not belong to you."
The candle-bearer's jaw clenched. "Then come and take it."
The flame flared brighter, shoving the watchers back. The hum shattered into discord. The hollow figures staggered, their perfect unity broken, and cracks split across their stone-flesh bodies.
The taller watcher's mouth stretched in a soundless scream—then it burst into dust.
The others froze. Then, as one, they withdrew, retreating into the walls they had emerged from. The corridor sealed again, leaving only silence and the echo of that terrible chorus.
Kaelen's fire dimmed, sweat pouring down his face. "Not enemies. Not allies. Just… sentinels."
Lyra wiped her blade, her voice low and shaking. "Sentinels that know we don't belong."
The candle-bearer's flame was steady now, but small. They cradled it like a wounded heart. "Then we'll make them wrong."