The Gathering Storm

The meeting ended, but the weight of Kalonji's warning did not.

Zion stood alone at the edge of the Grand Plateau, wind brushing against his cloak, eyes narrowed toward the horizon that now felt foreign. Not because it had changed… but because something beyond it had noticed them.

His soul stirred, touched by forces not meant for men, but he was no ordinary man.

He was Zion, child of spirit and storm, heir of sacrifice, ruler of Bassoon.

And he would not wait to be devoured.

The Call

Within hours, horns of silver and bone rang out across the land.

In every village, on every mountain pass, from the river delta to the Red Cliffs, riders went out bearing the sigil of Zion and the command of gods.

"All priestesses are summoned. All generals to the Stone Citadel.

Every Circle of Wisdom, every beast master, and every spirit seer—

Come. The veil has been touched.

We fortify now… or we fall together later."

From the five temples, the priestesses came—Ayomi, Ayola, Sael, Thalia, and Elis.

Wearing robes woven with living glyphs, their steps whispered power.

Each bore a different echo of the Lwa who chose them, but together they formed the sacred circle that pulsed at the heart of Zion's dominion.

They bowed before Zion not as king, but as chosen.

And Zion, still grieving, but steadied, looked them in the eye.

"The time of peace has ended.

Now we must become what the world fears to wake."

The Shield of Bassoon

Fortresses were raised at the four sacred gates of the realm.

Runes older than language were carved into the very ground.

The Lwa offered their signs—Papa Legba closed the pathways, allowing only what he willed to pass.

Ogou Feray blessed every blade and hardened every warrior's heart.

Baron Samedi sent warnings through the dead: "They're watching. Keep your soul close."

Maman Brigitte etched her fire into the walls of the underworld.

And Tijan Petro… laughed, danced, and whispered in madness:

"Oh it's coming. And I hope it's ugly."

Ayira and Jalen stood watch at the newly raised Gate of Chains, once a sacred forest, now transformed into a living outpost of shadow and blade.

Beyond the Shores: Kasa and Kalonji Prepare

Kasa – The Flame that Dances

In the blistering deserts of the Flame Realm, Kasa stood at the top of a burning spire, calling to his people:

"The skies we thought were infinite have eyes now.

And fire alone will not blind what is watching."

He began training the Flameborn, children of ember and wind, in combat and in the rites of fusion—soul and flame as one.

Then, he opened a gate to Bassoon, and sent his brightest ten across the planes.

"Go. Learn. Build. Bring fire back home—refined."

Kalonji – The One Beneath

Kalonji returned to the trench. There, his people—the Shellborn, sages and warriors—had gathered in fear.

But Kalonji, massive and eternal, placed his shell against the ocean floor.

He whispered a vow to the dark:

"You will not touch them. Not without bleeding first."

Then he too, opened a deep-sea path to Bassoon.

From his city, scholars and hunters left to walk among mortals.

"Bring back hope. Bring back truth.

And if you find lies—break them."

A Refuge and a Beacon

As word spread, other realms—fragmented, wounded, or watching their borders flicker with shadows—began to send their young and able to Bassoon.

Zion, once ruler of a scattered tribe, now stood at the helm of a cradle of nations.

Some came for knowledge.

Some came for sanctuary.

All came because the stars were shifting, and only one place remained unshaken.

Zantrayel—land of gods reborn and beasts reared on legend.

Zion welcomed them.

But deep inside, he knew:

This is not the end of peace.

This is only the quiet before the scream.