Guardian of the Walls

Evren

The maid with the doglike ears holds my hand as we move through the gardens. I’m running, but she’s only walking a little faster than normal, letting me believe I’m pulling her along. She smiles brightly while I laugh, childlike and carefree. The gravel crunches under my bare feet, the breeze tugs at my dress - a simple white one - and the flowers and bushes blur together in splashes of color.

We run and run until my legs give out. Then she scoops me up without effort, cradling me against her shoulder the way a mother might. My chin rests against the soft fabric of her uniform as I watch the garden bounce with her steps. The palace’s back door clicks shut behind us, and we slip inside.

Corridors blur into one another as my eyes grow heavy. When we finally reach my room, its brightness stings me awake for a moment. She lays me on the wide bed and tucks the blankets up around my chest. Her gentle smile lingers as she crosses to the curtains and draws them shut, plunging the chamber into darkness.

I blink drowsily, wanting to hear her voice. But when she leans close and opens her mouth, no sound comes. My heart aches with frustration. Why can’t I hear her?

A shadow falls across the doorway. A man enters, his beard thick and white, impossible to miss even as my vision swims. His voice is low, gravelly, carrying authority.

“Is she healthy?”

The maid answers, but again her mouth moves without a single sound reaching me.

“Good,” the man replies. “We’re expecting big things from her.”

Her lips form another silent response.

He chuckles softly. “Don’t worry. As long as she’s healthy, it’ll be fine. Her body is unique, you see.”

I strain, desperate to hear her, but only his replies cut through the silence.

“I can’t disclose details,” he continues. “The world will know in time. She’ll stop growing when she reaches eighteen. Then we’ll know she’s ready.”

The maid mouths a question.

“There won’t be any signs,” he answers. “Just her age. She should be ready at any time, but we’d rather be safe.”

Another muted question.

“Oh? Hasn’t anyone told you? I suppose it’s still top secret. Well, it doesn’t concern me. Is she asleep?”

I squeeze my eyes shut as the maid bends over me, feigning slumber. Her presence withdraws a moment later.

“Good,” the man says. His tone hardens. “To put it simply, she’s a military experiment. We believe we’ve found the formula for creation magic.”

Creation magic. My chest tightens at the words.

“Yes, creation,” he goes on after another unheard reply. “The legendary magic that can make anything. We don’t know much about it - which is why we can’t predict what she’ll become.”

The maid mouths something urgently.

“The church is backing this,” he says, almost amused. “They want her to replicate their weapons - and build better ones.”

I really, really wish I could hear her.

“How was she made?” He answers the unspoken question himself. “By forcing a human and a spirit to produce a child. Spirits already wield the magic, but they despise all creatures but themselves. Torture doesn’t break them - we tried. They’d sooner die than yield. So we turned to humans. Humans… are more malleable.”

My stomach knots.

“The father died in the process,” he continues without pause. “The mother, during childbirth. Our species aren’t meant to mix - pure energy and flesh reject one another.”

I fight against the pull of sleep, desperate to hear more.

“We don’t know if it will succeed,” he admits. “We can only hope. But whatever happens, the Kingdom’s interests come first. The church demands it. We obey.”

The maid gestures once more, but I’m slipping fast.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” the man says lightly. “You’re trustworthy enough.”

I give in. Darkness takes me, and I fall, helpless, into the arms of sleep.

I’m woken from my dreaming when I shift and bump my ankle against the floor harder than I meant to. A jolt of pain shoots up my leg, and I hiss, collapsing back into my seat. The tank is sealed, so at least it isn’t cold inside. I glance at Jesse - still asleep.

He looks so peaceful. For a moment, I just watch the rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair brushes over his brow. My hand almost reaches out to sweep it aside, but I catch myself and quickly pull back. What am I thinking?

I sigh and crack the hatch above me. Cold air rushes in, biting my skin. The sky is still dark, though a faint glimmer of light stains the horizon. Too early. I drop back down just as Jesse groans, rolling in his seat with a long stretch and a yawn.

I wince. The cold air must’ve woken him. He blinks at me and smiles groggily.

“G’mor-”

An almighty roar cuts him off. My blood turns to ice. Jesse bolts upright.

“What was that?”

I shiver. “Monster. Huge. Maybe colossal, judging by the sound.”

“Monster?” He shoves his hatch open and sticks his head out. “I don’t see anything.”

And then it clicks. My stomach drops. Now I remember why you don’t go near the city at night.

“Jesse.” My voice is tight. “It’s the Guardian of the Walls.”

He ducks back inside. “Guardian of the Walls?”

I nod quickly. “A giant stone golem. A mage lost control of it years ago. It wakes in the evening and patrols the walls, attacking anyone outside. In the morning it returns to its resting spot and sleeps.”

He tilts his head. “How do you lose control of a golem?”

“Apparently it stepped on her. Accidentally.”

His eyebrows lift. “And now it just roams around killing people?”

“There was a monster surge back then, so they programmed it to guard the walls at night. No one sane went out anyway. But now it’s safer, and people need to move around… but it still kills them.”

He frowns. “So what do we do? Wait it out?”

I nod - then an idea sparks. “We can. Or…”

His eyes narrow. “Or?”

“…we could kill it.”

He gives me a flat look. “I can’t tell if you want to help the people or if you just want its soul.”

I throw my hands up, feigning innocence, glancing anywhere but at him. “Whaaaat? Of course I care about the people.”

He grins and shakes his head. “Alright. We’ll take a look.”

I grin back as he settles in. “How long until it leaves?”

I rack my brain. “An hour? It’s still early.”

He nods. “Then we observe first. Let’s go.”

The screens flicker to life as power surges through the hull. The engine coughs awake with a throaty rumble, and with a lurch we’re moving. It’s only a short drive to the ridgeline, where Jesse halts Tyur’ma and shuts her down. We pop the hatches and climb into the chill dawn air.

Dark shapes form as the horizon lightens, the city looming low and sprawling but immense. It suddenly occurs to me that we might be parked in someone’s farmland. Oh well. Jesse ducks under the gun mount and sits beside me, silver headband glinting as he raises a black device shaped like a double-barreled telescope.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing.

“These? Binoculars. They let you see far away.” He hands them over. “Hold them up to your eyes. Takes a bit of fiddling to get aligned.”

I lift them, shift them slightly - then gasp. The walls snap into focus, close and clear, even from this distance. I hand them back reverently.

“Wow. Those are amazing. Must be super useful.”

“Very,” he says with a grin, pressing them to his own eyes.

Seconds later, his tone sharpens. “Found him. East side. Coming around toward us.”

I squint in that direction, but it’s still too dark for me to see. I trust his word and try to follow his slow tracking as he turns his head, but the golem remains invisible to me.

“Gone behind the wall again,” he mutters, lowering the binoculars. “We’ll wait until the light’s better - and until it’s in the right spot.”

And so we do. The sun climbs, a rooster crows somewhere nearby, and the world bathes in pale gold. That’s when I finally see it. The golem.

Almost as tall as the city wall, its body is a mass of cracked boulders bound by magic. My stomach twists as I point. “Golems don’t have flesh. Magic holds their bodies together. Their soul is in the core. Unless you smash them down to dust, they’ll keep fighting. The only way to kill one is to hit the core.”

This one has survived for years without being destroyed. No wonder - its stone hide makes it nearly impervious. Maybe that’s why it’s still out here: too much risk, not enough reward.

The golem lumbers out of sight again, continuing its slow patrol. Jesse exhales, then pushes to his feet with a groan. He smiles down at me.

“Well. Let’s give it a try.”

I slide back into the cabin and wait a few seconds before Jesse drops through his own hatch. The interior hums as power flickers on; the faint vibration of fans, the low thrum of systems coming alive, the glow of green and amber lights spreading across the control board. The screens snap into focus, painting the night outside in grainy clarity.

I expect Jesse to fire the engine right away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits there, motionless. His eyes flick toward mine, catching the question in my gaze before I can ask it aloud.

“We have to wait till it comes around again,” he says quietly. “Might as well enjoy the silence while it lasts. Because as soon as I fire, there’ll be no quiet for-”

He cuts himself off mid-sentence. His expression falters, worry carving deep lines into his face.

“Aren’t… aren’t we supposed to be avoiding attention?”

I give him the sharpest thousand-yard stare I can muster.

“Jesse. You are not - let me repeat that - ARE NOT going to be able to stay inconspicuous. You own a tank. Give it up.”

He swallows, but the worry doesn’t fade. His voice drops lower.

“I know, but… what about you?”

For a moment, my chest softens. He’s not thinking about himself - he’s thinking about me. That warmth stirs beneath my ribs, and I can’t help but give him a small smile.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m in disguise, remember?”

His brows knit. “Have they not seen it before?”

I shake my head.

“No. It’s new. And I didn’t linger here long enough for anyone to get a good look anyway.”

That seems to reassure him a little. He exhales and leans back in his chair, though the tension doesn’t quite leave his shoulders. Silence laps at us for a few breaths, filled only by the faint buzz of electronics.

Then suddenly, Jesse leans forward, eyes narrowing at the screens. His finger lifts, stabbing at the displays.

“Hey. What’s that?”

I follow his gaze. At first it’s just a scatter of dark specs across the pale ground. But then Jesse twists a dial, and the view zooms in. The blur resolves into a group of five - adventurers, dressed in mismatched armor and cloaks, trudging beside a horse-drawn cart. They’re moving steadily toward the city gates, barely five minutes away.

I run the numbers in my head, comparing them to the rhythm we’ve observed. The golem should reappear in two minutes. The realisation slams into me, twisting my stomach. I gasp.

“What are they thinking? They’re going to get killed!”

But Jesse doesn’t answer. Instead, the engine coughs, then roars to life. The hull trembles around us, and the air in the cabin fills with the muted rumble of power caged in steel. Jesse reaches up to slam his hatch closed, and I quickly mirror him. The sound outside muffles instantly, leaving only the mechanical growl and the faint static hum of the screens.

“Evren,” Jesse says, his tone clipped and urgent. “Where’s the core of this golem?”

My mind spins, but the answer comes quickly.

“Usually in the chest. The cracks in the rock will spiderweb out from it. Look for that.”

He nods once. The main gun jerks, then swings into position, its movements precise and deliberate. On the screens, the view aligns with the path of the adventurers, then shifts to the edge of the walls - anticipating where the golem will emerge.

Behind me, a mechanical clack echoes as the gun breech is fed a shell. Then silence again - thick, suffocating silence.

My heart hammers in my chest. I force myself to breathe slow, deep, but it doesn’t help. The pressure only builds, the quiet gnawing at me. Every second stretches thin, taut like a bowstring ready to snap.

The adventurers continue their march, oblivious, the cart wheels jostling over uneven stone. The city’s great wooden gates remain firmly closed. Why aren’t they opening? Surely they see them. Surely they know.

Jesse sits frozen, eyes unblinking, hands steady on the controls. He looks like a statue carved from steel, but I can feel the storm raging beneath his calm.

And then - without warning - the golem appears.

It lumbers around the far corner of the castle wall, a monstrous silhouette of jagged stone and glowing veins. Its head swings toward the adventurers, eyes like burning coal locking onto them.

A roar shatters the night. Low, guttural, like an avalanche tearing down a mountain.

The ground trembles as it breaks into a heavy, thundering sprint.

My blood runs cold. The adventurers scatter, sprinting in the opposite direction, but they’re hopelessly slow compared to the golem. Even Tyur’ma couldn’t outrun it. It’s not that the monster is moving fast - its height makes every step a ground-devouring lunge.

Jesse is already locked in. The crosshair flickers to life, crawling over the screen until it fixes on the golem’s chest. Streams of data race across the displays - meaningless to me, but Jesse reads them like a second language. An electronic whine builds as the gun slews into line. The barrel twitches, finds its mark. The RDY indicator blazes green.

Jesse inhales deeply, his silver headband glimmering slightly.
“Cover your ears.”

I slap my palms against my head just as the world detonates.

The blast isn’t just a sound - it’s a physical force that rattles my bones and shoves Tyur’ma backward on her suspension. Smoke floods the screens. My ears ring violently, a piercing shrill that blocks out everything else. Through the haze, I spot a glowing dot crawling across the monitor - the shell, screaming towards its mark.

A heartbeat later, the golem’s chest erupts in a geyser of dust and shattered rock. The creature staggers, bellowing in rage, but still upright.

A metallic clang reverberates behind me as the spent casing slams out of the breech. The autoloader clatters, feeding another shell with mechanical precision. Jesse doesn’t speak. His focus sharpens into something razor-thin, almost frightening.

The RDY symbol reappears. My hands slam over my ears again-

Another concussive thunderclap.

The second shell punches straight into the cluster of cracks radiating from its chest. This time, the impact is final. The golem roars, the sound collapsing into a deep groan as its form unravels. Magic slips away like a cord cut clean through, and the body disintegrates. Stones crash down in an avalanche of rubble, until nothing remains but a dust-choked ruin.

I sag back in my seat, lungs heaving. The silence that follows feels impossible after the violence of moments before. On the monitors, the adventurers are frozen, gaping in disbelief. From their vantage, we must look like nothing more than a speck of shadow crouched on a hill.

And then it hits me. A wave of heat, not physical but spiritual, pulsing through my chest. The soul finds me, drawn to my gaze, and floods inward. It weighs nothing, yet the sheer size of it leaves me trembling with energy, as though fire is coursing through my veins.

Jesse turns to me, calm as ever, and smiles faintly.
“Target destroyed.”

I shake my head at his tone - so casual, like he hadn’t just annihilated a monster ranked as a colossal threat. But then worry flickers across his face.
“What do we do now?”

He’s right. We can’t simply sit here. I force a shrug.
“Vanish for an hour, then return like we just arrived?”

A grin breaks across his face.
“Perfect. That’s what we’ll do.”

His hand settles back on the controls, and with a low growl the engine carries us away. We reverse over the ridge, turn, and the tank surges across the fields - leaving only a trail of crushed grass and the memory of thunder behind us. And two gleaming golden casing, rolling slowly as if they have a mind of their own, to one day be discovered by some confused farmer and treasured like gifts from the gods.

We return just under an hour later. The sun has risen, washing the fields in pale gold. Our heads are exposed to the morning air, the wind whistling past the weapon mounted overhead. As we crest the ridge, the city sprawls before us in the distance. At the base of the slope, the golem’s remains lie in a jagged heap of stone, a broken monument ringed by adventurers and knights. Even from here, the cloud of dust and the clusters of gawking figures make it obvious what’s drawn them.

Jesse doesn’t slow. We thunder across the flats, following the road that bends wide around the rubble, and angle straight toward the gates. Other travelers scatter to the sides, watching with faces caught somewhere between awe and dread. That, at least, is nothing new.

The guards don’t even try to stop us. They simply step aside, eyes tracking the turret as we pass.

Inside, the city swallows us in color and motion. The streets are narrow but alive, crowded with two- and three-story houses of white plaster crossed with dark wooden beams. Glass windows glitter in the light. Merchants haul boxes and barrels, apprentices shoulder tools, horses clop along cobblestones. Knights in gleaming steel pass adventurers dressed in cloth dyed every color imaginable. Yet despite the bustle, one constant follows us: everything slows, every conversation cuts off, and every head turns to stare.

I slide my seat down and pull the hatch closed. The sudden muffling of the outside world feels like relief. On the screens, though, I still see it all - like ghostly reflections of life, stretched across panes of glass.

The tank eases down the road. Jesse leans back into the cabin, his voice casual.
“Evren, where’s the guild?”

Right. My part.
“Keep going. Left turn coming up. I’ll call it.”

He grunts an acknowledgment and straightens up again, eyes forward. I guide him as we rumble through the streets, the palace visible in the far distance like a crown above the city. About halfway down the main avenue, I spot a broad timber building set apart from its neighbors, taller, prouder.

“There. That big one.”

“Got it.”

The tank slows to a crawl and finally halts just short of the entrance, careful not to block the steps. Pedestrians freeze mid-stride, their attention hooked on the metal beast looming in the middle of their street. Jesse slides back down into the cabin, switches off the engine, and Tyur’ma clicks into silence, the hum of its systems fading away.

He turns to me with a quick smile.
“Alright, I’m going in. Need anything?”

I shake my head.

“Alright then.” He nods, and with practiced ease hauls himself up and out. The hatch clunks shut behind him, and the muffled noise of the city fades almost completely. The interior lights remain on, soft and steady - a small kindness so the cabin doesn’t feel like a tomb.

I exhale, leaning back against the seat. All I can do now is wait.