The Immortal Sentinel

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Astoria, a kingdom bathed in golden light, was a place of peace and diplomacy. Its capital, Eldenor, stretched along the sapphire-blue River Galdor, its elegant towers and bustling streets a reflection of the kingdom's vibrant culture. Merchants from distant lands traded exotic spices, fine silks, and precious gems in the city's grand market, and its scholars were renowned across continents. But beneath this thriving prosperity, there lingered a growing unease.

For centuries, Astoria's rival, the kingdom of Edris, had loomed as a shadow to the east, a constant source of tension and suspicion. Though there had been no formal declaration of war, skirmishes along the border were not uncommon. Edris was known for its militaristic might, and whispers of their ambition to expand beyond their borders were never far from the lips of Astorian diplomats. In recent weeks, rumours of troop movements, raiding parties, and strange activity near the border had reached the ears of Queen Adalynn and her council.

At the heart of Eldenor's towering palace, Thalion Valdren stood silently in the council chamber, his gaze distant. The council's voices, once soft, had grown more urgent as they discussed the threat from Edris. Thalion, a mid-ranked royal guard, had been summoned at the queen's request. His lean frame and sharp elven features made him striking, though it was his calm, emotionless demeanour that often unnerved those around him.

To most, Thalion was a seasoned warrior, revered for his combat skills and unwavering loyalty. But among those who knew him well, whispers carried a darker truth: Thalion could not die.

He had earned the nickname "The Immortal Sentinel" after countless battles where he had been struck down only to rise again, unscathed. His immortality was a curse he had carried in silence for decades, known only to a select few in the upper ranks of the guard and the royal family. To others, he was a legend, his ability to survive what should have been mortal wounds attributed to sheer luck or divine favour. But for Thalion, it was nothing short of torment.

He shifted in his armour, the weight of his duty pressing heavily on his soul. The queen's council droned on, discussing the latest reports from the border. Troop sightings. Mysterious campfires at night. Thalion had heard it all before—hollow words that heralded yet another conflict in which he would fight, kill, and live to see another day. How many more battles would he endure before he found peace?

Queen Adalynn's voice broke through his thoughts, clear and commanding. "We must act swiftly. If these reports are true, Edris may be preparing for something far more serious than raids."

Thalion's eyes finally focused on the queen, her presence regal and unyielding. She was younger than most rulers, yet her wisdom and strength had held Astoria steady through turbulent times. "Thalion," she called, her gaze locking onto him, "I trust you understand the gravity of this situation?"

He inclined his head slightly. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"You've proven yourself time and time again on the battlefield. That's why I'm sending you to the eastern border," she continued. "We need eyes on the ground—someone who can report back with certainty. Take a small squad with you. Investigate the area. If there's anything unusual, I expect to hear it directly from you."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the council, but Thalion remained silent, his thoughts elsewhere. For years, he had served Astoria without complaint. He had stood on the front lines, faced death more times than he could count, yet his true desire—to die and find release from this endless cycle—had never been fulfilled. Each time the blade struck, each time his body crumpled to the ground, his consciousness slipped away only to return moments later. The curse was relentless.

He had long since lost track of how old he truly was, but it didn't matter. The centuries felt like a blur of blood, steel, and sorrow. While other soldiers feared death, Thalion longed for it. Yet death was a mercy he had been denied.

"Do you accept this mission, Thalion?" Queen Adalynn's voice once again pulled him from his reverie. Her expression was calm, but her eyes carried the weight of expectation.

Thalion bowed slightly, his long white hair falling over his shoulders. "I accept, Your Majesty."

The queen nodded, satisfied. "You leave in three days. The squad will be prepared by then. I trust you will do what is necessary."

As the council dispersed and the chamber began to empty, Thalion lingered for a moment longer, staring out of the tall windows overlooking the capital. The sun bathed Eldenor in a warm, golden light, but Thalion felt nothing but the cold, hollow ache in his chest.

Another mission. Another chance to seek death. But even as he prepared for the journey, he knew in his heart that the outcome would be the same.

Thalion turned and left the chamber, the echoes of his footsteps fading as he walked down the long, ornate hallways of the palace.

Thalion walked with purposeful steps through the palace corridors, his boots clicking against the polished stone floors. The grandeur of the palace, with its intricately carved walls and shimmering tapestries, meant little to him now. He had once admired its beauty, its testament to Astoria's history and the stability it offered its people. But with each passing year, each battle fought and survived, the significance of such things seemed to slip away.

As he made his way toward the barracks, Thalion couldn't shake the gnawing sense of inevitability. The border, the conflict with Edris, it was just another cycle. He would lead his squad, face whatever danger awaited, and live to tell the tale. Just as he always had.

But perhaps... this time would be different.

As he stepped outside into the palace courtyard, the sharp autumn wind greeted him. Soldiers trained in the open fields nearby, their grunts of exertion and the clanging of steel filling the air. It was a familiar sound, one that stirred memories of countless skirmishes. Thalion found himself gazing across the horizon, toward the east where Edris lay. The mountains there stood like dark sentinels, guarding the distant kingdom. Somewhere beyond those peaks, trouble brewed.

A voice broke through his thoughts.

"Sergeant Thalion."

He turned to find Captain Renic, his superior, striding toward him. The captain was a stout, grizzled man, his armour worn from years of service. Though hardened by decades of war, there was a gleam of respect in his eyes when he looked at Thalion.

"Captain," Thalion greeted with a nod.

"The queen's made her decision, then," Renic said, his voice gravelly. "Heading to the eastern border, eh?"

Thalion confirmed with a silent nod.

Renic sighed, rubbing a hand over his thick beard. "I don't envy you. Edris has always been a thorn in our side, but these rumours... they worry me. If they're moving troops, it could mean more than just another border skirmish."

"We'll find out soon enough," Thalion replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "The mission is clear. Investigate, report, and, if necessary, engage."

Renic gave him a knowing look, eyes narrowing slightly. "Just... watch your back out there. You're good with a sword, but even you have your limits."

Thalion almost let out a bitter laugh at that. Limits. He had none. That was the problem.

"I'll be ready," was all he said.

The captain patted him on the shoulder and offered a small, grim smile before walking away. Thalion remained in the courtyard for a while longer, watching the soldiers go through their drills, sparring with swords and training as though they, too, might face death soon.

But none of them would die before he did.

The thought clung to him like a shadow as he made his way back toward his quarters. He needed to prepare. His armour would be inspected, his sword sharpened, and the squad assembled within days. There was no time for hesitation. Yet, as he walked, the weight of his immortality pressed heavier on his soul.

For all his skill, all his accolades, Thalion knew what truly awaited him beyond the mountains of Edris: another battle, another survival, and another endless day of living a life he no longer wanted.

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