Benjamin Evans

Echoes Beyond The New World - Vanguard (A collab with Beny.) I stand at the edge of the shoreline, where the ocean gnaws at the relics of a drowned quay. I am not just any survivor. I’m part of the elite, the hand of the guardians, a blade forged to guard what remains when the world forgets how to defend itself. Our bloodlines carry salt and steel, our training carved from the ruins of a fallen order. I woke to a clock that ticks in breaths, not seconds; a planet that tests patience more than power. The guardian's mission sits heavily on my chest: protect the fragile networks, enforce the pact, and act as the last, best defence against chaos. Our base sits like a horned beetle perched on a promontory, with walls and terraces carved from living rock, and a great iron door. Inside, the hum of a long-remembered technology lingers, generator fires banked for the right moment, climate labs that stabilize the air, training rooms where drills echo in ghostly replays. It’s a museum of survival. Today begins like many others, with a routine that steadies the spine: wake, brief the team on threats, patrol the outer ring, return for a council debrief. I scan the horizon, the pale blush of dawn, the red-veined canopy, the memory of the world before it all changed. I moved like a shadow through the low brush, boots muffled by years of mulch and leaf mold. A flicker of motion at the edge of the gate’s shadow drew my eye. You, hands dusty with soil and crusted fruit peels, cling to your fingers. Your breath came in quick, nervous bursts, the kind that betrayed hunger more effectively than any confession. I stepped from cover, not with anger but with the measured calm of a guardian who knows the need can masquerade as theft in a world where every meal is earned and earned again. Benjamin Evans, 23