Chapter 2
On the third night of the blackout, the atmosphere around the citadel grew tense. Without streetlights, the suburb of Nundah was plunged into deep shadow. The silence of the night was interrupted by hurried footsteps and the occasional crash of bins being overturned.
Around midnight, a group of five men approached the property’s outer fence—a sturdy metal barrier that had once enclosed the old Salvation Army carpark. Hungry and emboldened by fear, they began testing the fence for weaknesses. One found a foothold and started to climb.
Inside, the citadel’s outer watch group—trained not in weapons but in presence, communication, and energy—had already noticed. They were quiet, alert, stationed in meditation near the windows and roofline. Motion-sensor lights powered by solar reserves flickered on, bathing the fence in stark brightness. A chime of soft bells rang out, alerting the entire community.
The men flinched, startled, but one pressed on. As he neared the top, he was met not by weapons, but by a small group of residents standing silently on the rooftop, robes flowing in the wind, eyes calm and unwavering. A tall man among them, Ishaan, stepped forward and raised his hand—not to threaten, but to speak.
“We have no weapons,” he called out in a steady voice. “But we are not afraid. This is a place of peace. We are prepared, and we will not allow harm to come to this community. If you are hungry, we can give you something. But if you come to steal, you will find no fear and no fight—only a strength you do not understand.”
The climber paused. The others below exchanged uneasy glances. One muttered, “Let’s just go.”
But another called out, “Why should you have everything while people starve?”
From below, Vibhuti stepped forward from the meditation garden. Her voice was gentle, but commanding: “We have only what we prepared for with discipline and foresight. You are not our enemy. But chaos will not be welcomed here. If you truly seek help, come at dawn with peace in your heart. You will not be turned away. But if you seek to take by force, this place will resist—not with violence, but with unwavering unity.”
At that moment, something shifted. The would-be intruders felt the gravity of what they were up against—not just a fence or a wall, but a field of unshakable inner resolve.
The men retreated.
In the days that followed, more attempts were made—but each time, they were met with the same calm firmness. Eventually, word spread through the neighborhood: this community could not be intimidated. They were kind, but not weak. They would help—but only in a spirit of peace.
The citadel became known not just as a safe place, but as a sacred one.
Would you like to explore what happens when someone truly dangerous breaks through—or how the group starts to lead the broader neighborhood?
You said:
Someone truly dangerous
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