Sentinel And Guide Novels & Stories

“May I?” “Yes,” the guide said at once. Elias’s fingers found the guide’s wrist, light but grounding. He felt the pulse there fast, controlled only by effort. “You feel… human,” Elias whispered. The guide let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a laugh. Or a break. “That’s the risk,” he said. “Being seen.” The guide’s other hand came up, cupping Elias’s jaw with care that bordered on reverence. The trembling didn’t stop but neither did the touch.

I stood at the center of the craft's bridge, my Platinum hands resting on the control sphere. "The mission is simple," I told the small crew, Koran, Kaelen, and a handful of specialized Null-technicians, "We reach the nearest Sentinel, we board, we find out if they are guardians or executioners, and if they are executioners... we show them why the Sun and the Moon decided to stop fighting." As the Aethelgard rose from the hangar, it didn't use fire, it used a Void-Pulse.

There’s potential there—potential that needs to be nurtured, not controlled. I type the first message, my words deliberate. ……… >> AlphaWatcher: “It’s important you understand the difference between what one might expect and what I offer. My role is to Guide you. You, as the Follower, will learn to trust in that guidance, to find strength in it. This is a process.”

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.”

Hunters are the ones who are skilled at tracking (search for scents). Sentinel: Sentinels are more like guards and knights. They are skilled at fighting so if there are any troubles with other packs, they will be the one who fights in the first row. They sometimes came along with hunters to hunt food. Their main job is securing the pack's territory so no one is trespassing. In this story, hunters and sentinels don't hunt for food since it's a modern kind of werewolf story so they can just go to the supermarket or something to get food.

I almost forgot about him, maybe I should just keep that, or else that kid will surely cry. “He was with his father. Tyler was a sentinel for some time” “That is good for him, he has been wanting to be one before... Right?" Sentinels are those wolves who ensure that the pack is safe by patrolling the territory and watching the movements of the surroundings. They are to make sure that no intruders enter the clearing. That is to say, by now... maybe Tyler is having some patrol. ” Yeah, but surely, he will cry with snot on his nose “

I was involved with the hunters, trafficking rings, and other shit long before I came to the Council, but I made sure that it was never tied to me. While Corey and I were partners, we weren’t equals even if he didn’t realize it. He was great at following orders but lacked strategic foresight. That was precisely why I made the plans. Sentinels were our warriors. They were trained to be elite warriors because they were an army and were sent out to keep order among the various packs. It was also their jobs to do the investigations whenever we had a need for it.

“No, I – I had a Sentry but he died in the crossfire. I grabbed his gun, and I’ve been trying to get out of here since then.” I glanced over my shoulder at Izzy. “What’s a Sentry?” “That will be something like a warder or watcher. Anyone assigned to him will be under his watch and if they don’t follow orders, they will be… punished.” I closed my eyes, clenching my fist as my mind decided to draw up imaginations of what Izzy described may look like. Was this what this girl endured? Did he preach that he was fighting for freedom, really? Freedom from what exactly?

The figure was moving fast, quiet, holding a short-barreled automatic weapon, sweeping the tree line as he advanced toward the cabin's power generator. He wore the dark gray tactical gear of Project Crimson's old auxiliary unit. A cold, familiar darkness flooded my veins—not the fiery, possessive heat I felt when I touched Anna, but the ancient, ruthless instinct of the weapon Clifford Mandell had bought fourteen years ago. I didn't call out. I didn't issue a warning. I moved through the deep snow like a phantom, my boots making no sound against the frozen drift. I closed the distance in four silent, blinding strides, coming up behind the scout just as he raised his gloved hand to plant a ma

Sa bawat daan nila, pinuputol ng Sentinel ang mga sapot sa langit, nagbibigay ng pagkakataon sa mga tao sa ibaba na makahinga muli. ​Ngunit sa paanan ng Bulkang Mayon, naghihintay ang unang Weaver Guardian. Isang nilalang na walang mukha, may sampung braso, at binalot ng puting sutla na hindi tinatablan ng kahit anong pisikal na bala.