Seeds of Nations

The harbor of Nouvo Lakay shimmered under the mid-morning sun. A ship of elegant design—crafted with Earth-born knowledge—glided into port. On its deck stood six envoys: three from the flame-swept tribe of Kasa, and three from the ocean-deep world of Kalonji.

They had been sent not as warriors, but as students.

Zion waited at the end of the pier, flanked by his seven brothers—each a living pillar of Zantrayel's foundation. Behind him, the capital city rose like a monument to possibility: paved roads, sturdy buildings, busy marketplaces, schools echoing with new voices, and the Temple of the Lwa gleaming under divine protection.

"You have crossed land and sea," Zion said. "Now you will cross into a future of your own making. Learn not just how to build—but why to build."

The envoys bowed deeply.

Beneath the Waves… But Not Within Them

Far below the ocean's surface—hidden from the world and protected by ancient magic—lay the kingdom of Kalonji, the Great Turtle God.

His immense, sacred shell served as the land itself. Villages, fields, and temples were built atop it. Oceans curled around his edges, but never touched his people. Through divine command, Kalonji held back the crushing weight of the sea, creating an air-filled sanctuary upon his back. Here, generations of his followers lived under his watchful gaze.

When he returned from Zantrayel, Kalonji summoned his Circle of Shellfire—the wise ones who interpreted his dreams, his movements, his moods. They gathered in the shell-court, surrounded by glowing crystals and ancestral carvings.

"I have seen a world that rises," Kalonji said, his voice like thunder muffled by water. "A world not shaped by survival alone—but by vision. It is time our people prepare to breathe beyond this shell."

There were protests. Some feared betrayal of tradition. Others whispered of danger beyond the deep. But Kalonji's will was unmoving.

He sent his three most gifted envoys to study in Zantrayel. In the meantime, he ordered the construction of the First Surface Embassy on a smaller island that emerged from his shell—still safe within the divine barrier, but reaching upward.

And in the Temple of Coral Flame, Kalonji carved into stone: "Let wisdom rise with the tide."

In the Flame-Swept Plains…

Kasa, fierce and proud, returned to his people not as a war chief—but as a visionary.

He called for peace talks, a foreign concept to many. Around a fire built not for battle, but for discourse, he laid out Zion's scrolls—drawings of aqueducts, town plans, written language, and coin systems.

"My spear has fed us," Kasa said, "but it cannot build homes or grow wheat. We must rise by learning—before the fire consumes us from within."

He promised his warriors that their strength would not be cast aside—but shaped into something greater: protection, not oppression.

The village of Emberlight was founded that month. The first schoolhouse was raised beside the training yard. The old ways were not abandoned—but elevated.

Back in Nouvo Lakay…

Zion's seven brothers took the six new envoys under their care. They were taught by scholars, engineers, diplomats, and warriors. They saw how roads linked distant villages, how wind-powered mills processed grain, how divine sigils and Earth's ideas coexisted.

Each night, they gathered with Zion himself to ask questions—and to dream aloud.

They learned not only about how Zantrayel rose—but why it had to.

And so, on the edge of an untamed world, surrounded by uncertainty, the spark of a new future flickered in six young hearts. From the mountain shell of a divine turtle, to the burning plains of flamewalkers, a truth was growing: the age of scattered tribes was ending. The age of nations had begun.