Angelic Warden Creatures Of Sonaria นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The air around it seemed to warp, resonating with the pulse of the seal within Soren. Soren stumbled backward, clutching Travian’s arm. “What… what is that?” Travian’s gaze hardened, calculating, every muscle coiled. “A guardian… or a warden. It has been waiting for this moment.” The creature did not attack. It simply observed, tilting its head as if reading the energy radiating from Soren. And Soren could feel it reaching into him, probing the seal, whispering in his mind. His chest burned—not with pain, but with recognition, as if a fragment of himself had always belonged to this ancient thing.

The Threshold started collapsing immediately. Chunks of the world itself broke apart around us, falling upward into the darkness above. The cracked Warden looked completely terrified now. “They sent a Harbinger.” The giant shape continued emerging slowly. White eyes, black limbs. A body that seemed made from shifting void and dying stars. And at its center, a massive glowing fracture pulsed like an heartbeat. The Harbinger. The Architect lowered its head before the creature in total submission. The little girl backed away toward the silver door.

Angle clutches her heart. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.” Melchor says, laughing manically as growls grow from the forest. Out from the trees walks four hellhounds, but not just that, they are accompanied with two Vragrins; my fathers personal overgrown pet demonbirds. They are not supposed to be able to leave Amar, but he must have found a way, clearly. “Oh for fuck sake.” Angel says, looking at the company the men have gotten, as the new men who came with the animals. “You two are going to be a lot of trouble, aren’t you?”

He lets out a cry that echoes across the realm. Let them come. Let them try. I place a note upon the headmaster’s desk. It appears with a flicker of violet-blue light and a soft thump as an ancient ruby lands beside it, warm to the touch, thrumming with alarm magic. Malric, The wards have been awakened. I have deployed the following guardians: Storin and Glorin – Front Gate Gargoyles Kiana – Sky Patrol, Serpent of Flame Flan – Bell Tower Griffin, Vision Guard

The wardstone at the center was meant to pulse steady blue and flickered violently, crackling with instability. Standing before it were five figures in dark armor, their forms shifting as though they were partially made of smoke. Their leader turned slowly, head tilting as though sniffing the air. When its gaze found me, the wardstone flared crimson. Kyren stepped forward, weapon raised. “You will leave. Now.” The creature spoke, voice echoing from a cavernous hollow chest. “The vessel awakens.” Vessel. The word crawled under my skin like ice. Riven snarled. “Say that again and I will peel the shadow from your bones.”

The Warden surged forward, smashing into the shadow, and the tendrils recoiled. But the ancient presence roared—not in sound, but in intent. “Caretaker… you cannot survive me. You are not worthy.” Riven’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care what you think. I am Meridian’s caretaker. And I will survive. For Saint. For Luca. For the city. For all of them.” The Warden’s power flared, and the ground shook violently. Energy rippled outward, and the shadow screeched, molten eyes burning, form cracking like obsidian glass.

“You are at war against the gods; you need all the help you can get. Just don’t send a pompous dragon to him. My father would kill any dragon that disrespects him.” “I will kill any dragon that disrespects him,” Alaric said, and Asher chuckled. “If I had known, I should have gone for him myself last night.” Alaric said, “I would not want him thinking I am commanding him.” Asher nodded. “He won’t. Do the angelic warriors have souls?” Alaric frowned, “I think I have heard that they breed. Any creature that can breed has souls.” “Then all the more reason you need my father.”

A creature of pure Crown-light, its form woven from gold and ash, eyes burning with the same runes as the First Warden. Lyra staggered backward. “What is that?” The First Warden stepped aside. “YOUR FIRST GUIDE.” The wolf bowed its head to her—reverent, obedient. Cassian whispered, “You’ve got to be kidding me. She gets a mythical wolf made of starfire? Why does she get all the dramatic pets?” Aethren exhaled shakily. “It’s not a pet. It’s a Sentinel.” Malachai nodded grimly. “The First Warden’s own.”