Xin woke in a haze, his mind tangled in the remnants of a restless dream. Light flooded his quarters, a relentless tide of gold pouring through the crystalline walls of the sanctuary. He blinked against the glare, his eyes adjusting to the shimmering glow that bathed the room. The sanctuary's walls, carved from radiant crystal, pulsed with their familiar warmth, reflecting the morning sun in cascades of amber and gold. Outside, a low murmur drifted through the air, footsteps and chatter blending with the distant hum of life stirring awake. The sounds felt ordinary, unremarkable, yet a weight pressed against Xin's chest, a gnawing unease that refused to fade.
He sat up slowly, his heart thudding with a rhythm that felt too fast, too heavy. The air carried a strange clarity, sharper than it should have been. His breath caught as realization struck. The light was too bright, spilling across the room with an intensity that set his nerves alight. The dome. The protective barrier that shielded the sanctuary from the sun's searing wrath was his responsibility. If he had failed to restore it during the night, if its power had faltered, the sanctuary would be ash by now, its people reduced to cinders.
Panic surged through him. He sprang from his bed, bare feet striking the cold stone floor. His thoughts collided, a chaotic whirl of fear and duty, and he burst through the chamber door without pausing to grab his coat. The hallway buzzed with life, half-dressed sentries trudging past, groggy cooks balancing trays of bread and fruit, and the faint laughter of children echoing from the courtyards. The air felt mild, almost warm, which only deepened his alarm. The sanctuary's temperature should have been cooler, tempered by the dome's protective veil. Something was wrong.
Xin wove through the crowded corridors, his pulse hammering in his ears. The sanctuary stood intact, its crystalline walls gleaming, its people moving through their morning routines. If the dome had collapsed, this place would be a graveyard, scorched and silent. Yet life continued, serene and undisturbed. His instincts screamed, urging him toward the main gate. He needed to see the dome for himself, to confirm its strength with his own eyes.
By the time he reached the great crystal doors, his breath came in ragged gasps. He shoved them open, the heavy panels swinging wide, and stepped into the open air. His voice rose, sharp with urgency. "Come, Dharmachakra!"
He reached into the air, his hand grasping at nothing before a radiant hum answered his call. The golden Dharma Wheel materialized, its concentric rings spinning with solemn grace, their edges shimmering with ancient power. Its presence should have signaled crisis, a beacon of imminent danger, yet the sanctuary remained calm. Villagers passed by, carrying bundles of cloth, jars of water, and baskets of dried herbs. Children skipped stones across the reflecting pools, their laughter bright and carefree. A few glanced at Xin, their brows furrowing with mild concern.
"Are you okay, Xin?" a woman asked, pausing with a basket of linens balanced on her hip.
He didn't respond immediately. His thoughts drifted to the previous night, to the nightmare that had clawed at his sleep, a vision of fire and ruin. He shook his head, clearing the fog, and lifted his gaze to the sky. The dome arched high above, its surface glimmering in the morning light, refracting golden rays across the sanctuary below. It stood unbroken, its power steady, shielding them from the sun's relentless heat.
"I thought…" Xin's voice faltered, barely a whisper. He exhaled sharply, the tension in his chest easing. "Is everyone alright?"
"Yeah," the woman replied, her tone calm but tinged with weariness. "Last night was rough, but we'll manage. Raven and the others are still clearing out what's left of the monster corpses."
Xin nodded, the fear that had gripped him loosening its hold. His mind remained restless, but the sight of the dome, whole and radiant, grounded him. With a gentle gesture, he dismissed the Dharma Wheel, its rings slowing as it faded into dormancy. He turned and strode toward the northern dwellings, his steps brisk, driven by a need to check on those he held dear.
He pushed open a familiar door and stepped into a small room, its walls lined with soft bedding and a shelf of neatly folded blankets. June lay curled in her usual spot, tucked beneath a woven sheet, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She was asleep, her face serene, untouched by the chaos that had rattled Xin's morning. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her for a moment. June was deaf, a fact that often gnawed at him, her vulnerability a constant worry. If danger had breached the sanctuary's defenses, she wouldn't have heard the alarms, wouldn't have known to flee or hide. Yet today, her deafness seemed a small mercy. She had slept through the night's turmoil, spared the fear that clung to everyone else.
He stepped forward, tucking the blanket more securely around her shoulders, then turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.
The day unfolded in quiet labor. Xin met with Raven and the other soldiers in the central courtyard, their armor dented and blackened from the previous night's battle. Raven stood tall, his grim confidence unshaken despite the bruises and bandages that marked his frame. The others bore their wounds with pride, burn marks and claw slashes testament to their survival. No one had fallen. No mourning bells rang through the sanctuary. It was a victory, hard-won and precious, and they clung to it fiercely.
By late afternoon, Xin found himself in the kitchens, sleeves rolled up, sweat beading at his brow. The air hummed with the scent of simmering broth, grilled root vegetables, and spice-soaked grains. The communal space buzzed with recovery and laughter, a haven where the weight of survival lifted for a few hours. Xin relished the simplicity of it, losing himself in the rhythm of cutting, stirring, and listening to the rise and fall of voices around him. The kitchens offered a respite, a chance to feel ordinary amidst the sanctuary's endless struggles.
Dinner preparations were nearly complete when a cry shattered the peace. "We're under attack!"
The words struck Xin like a blow, sharp and sudden. He froze, ladle in hand, the metal clattering to the floor as he sprinted toward the sound. His ears rang with the echo of the alarm, his eyes narrowing as a high-pitched whistle tore through the sky, like wind slicing through glass. Fire streaked across the horizon, a blazing scar against the dome's golden glow. Xin's heart pounded, but he made a choice. The Dharma Wheel, though it amplified his strength, was needed more by the summit, its power essential to the dome's stability. Instead, he reached for his enhanced bow, its sleek frame humming with latent energy as he gripped it tightly.
He knew what waited beyond the gates. Roars, smoke, and the heavy thud of something massive striking the earth signaled chaos, a tide of destruction surging toward the sanctuary. Xin ran, his legs carrying him past startled villagers, past the kitchens where cooks stood frozen, past soldiers scrambling into formation. The entrance loomed ahead, its crystal doors glinting in the fading light. Beyond them, the world erupted in violence, a cacophony of snarls and crashing stone.
How many more times would they face this? Each day brought survival, each night a new assault. Xin didn't know how long the sanctuary could endure, its people caught in a relentless cycle of defense and recovery. Yet as long as the dome held, as long as the sun's wrath...as long as he kept the monsters at bay, as long as he could save people, he would still fight.