Extract from the -{ Tome of Light }- the divine scripture of the Church of Light.

"Behold the chains of obedience, forged in the fires of divine wrath. Those who dare defy my celestial decree shall face the full measure of my righteous fury, for I am the arbiter of justice and the enforcer of eternal law." (Chains of Obedience - 4:1)

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"The big one is mine!" Inky's voice rang out, a mixture of excitement and hunger lacing his words.

The Devouring Kraken, its form a writhing mass of shadows and tentacles, surged forward with frightening speed. It had sensed a kindred spirit in the pack leader, a being of similar dark affinity, and that recognition ignited a primal desire for battle within its core.

In a heartbeat, Inky erupted from the shadows beneath the unsuspecting pack. His massive body slammed into one of the shadow stalkers with bone-crushing force, sending the beast hurtling through the air. The unfortunate creature crashed into a wooden carriage, splintering it into a thousand pieces. Both beast and broken wood tumbled away in a chaotic tangle, but Inky paid no heed to the collateral damage.

His focus, razor-sharp and unwavering, remained fixed on his chosen prey. With lightning speed, Inky pounced upon the pack leader. His tendrils wrapped around the struggling beast, dragging it down into the inky depths of his shadow realm.

The battlefield erupted into chaos. Jormu, her serpentine form glinting like starlight, engaged two of the remaining shadow stalkers. Her movements were fluid and deadly, a mesmerizing dance of destruction that left her opponents struggling to keep up.

Winston, the unassuming servant, stepped forward to face the rest of the pack. Asher's eyes widened as he watched his companion remove his gloves with deliberate slowness. The transformation that followed was both fascinating and terrifying.

Winston's fingers elongated, becoming razor-sharp blades that glinted in the eerie light. A cloud of darkness clung to his back, its true nature indiscernible in the heat of battle. Before Asher could fully comprehend what he was seeing, Winston was in motion.

The humble servant became a whirlwind of shadowy blades, his movements too quick for the eye to follow. In mere seconds, the remaining shadow-stalkers were reduced to unrecognizable pulp, their fearsome forms obliterated by Winston's otherworldly power.

As the dust settled, Asher noticed Winston's gaze fixed on something in the distance. Following his line of sight, Asher's heart leaped into his throat. Two young beastkin lay huddled on the ground, dangerously close to the roiling pool of shadows where Inky battled the pack leader.

Without hesitation, Asher sprang into action. He raced towards the vulnerable pair, his feet barely touching the ground as he closed the distance. But even as he ran, a chilling voice cut through the air.

"What's this?" Inky's curious tone carried an undercurrent of hunger that made Asher's blood run cold.

A black tentacle emerged from the shadow pool, stretching towards the terrified beastkin with agonizing slowness. The scene before Asher seemed to warp, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. It was as if he was reliving his first encounter with Inky's mother, but this time from an outsider's perspective.

"That's enough, Inky!" Asher's voice rang out, firm and authoritative. "You're scaring them!"

The tentacle froze in mid-air, mere inches from the shivering beastkin. Without breaking stride, Asher unfastened his cloak and swept it around the two young ones, enveloping them in its protective warmth.

……………………………………………………………………………..

The northern peak of the Eldermist mountain, Asher’s cabin.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Asher found himself stirring a pot of vegetable soup over a crackling fire. The rich aroma wafted through the air, a comforting contrast to the earlier scents of battle and death.

Winston crouched beside him, tending to the fire with meticulous care. His eyes, filled with curiosity, never left Asher's hands as they worked.

"Why make 'soup,' when you can prepare meat in more efficient ways?" Winston asked, his head tilted slightly in genuine curiosity.

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Asher's lips curved into a patient smile. "True, there are more efficient methods," he conceded. "But soup is easier to digest. When someone is physically ill or traumatized, the warmth provides comfort. Both comfort and warmth are necessary to heal trauma, whether physical or mental."

Winston's eyes widened slightly, absorbing this new information. "Fascinating," he murmured, his gaze returning to the bubbling pot.

After the two beastkin had lost consciousness, Asher had decided to deal with the aftermath of the battle back in the tower. The air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid stench of fear as Asher and his companions set about cleaning up the battlefield. They had worked in solemn silence, burying the fallen beastkin with as much dignity as they could muster under the circumstances.

As for the shadow stalkers, their remains became a feast for Inky and Jormu. Asher tried not to dwell on the unsettling sight of his companions consuming the beasts that had caused such devastation.

With the immediate things dealt with, Asher scoured the remains of the shattered carriages, salvaging what he could. Vegetables, money, weapons, magical herbs, and curious trinkets – all were carefully gathered and handed over to Inky for safekeeping in his mysterious storage space. The vegetable he decided to make use of as he made the soup for the kids. He had plans to return the rest of the salvage they had found.

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by a slight movement at the cabin door. Asher's keen senses picked up on the presence of the young beastkin, awake but hesitant to emerge.

"It seems the Lapinian teens are up," Winston observed softly.

Asher's brow furrowed slightly. "Lapinians?"

Winston nodded, his voice taking on a teacher-like tone, irritating Asher’s nerves. "The race of beastkin to which these two belong. They were among the weaker races that entered the tower, according to the data I have. I personally didn't think they as a species would thrive inside the tower, yet it seems time proved otherwise."

The door of the cabin creaked open slightly, revealing two pairs of wide, frightened eyes. Their gazes fixed on Winston, and Asher could feel the fear radiating from them in palpable waves.

With a gentle smile, Asher turned to his companion. "Winston, how about you patrol our surroundings for a bit?"

Understanding dawned in Winston's eyes, and he rose with fluid grace. "As you command," he said with a bow, before disappearing into the surrounding forest.

As Winston's form melted into the shadows of the trees, Asher filled two bowls with the steaming soup. The enticing aroma seemed to draw the young Lapinians out of their shelter, their noses twitching as they cautiously approached.

"You two must be hungry," Asher said warmly, gesturing to the log beside the fire. "Come, sit by the fire. I've made some fresh soup."

The beastkin settled onto the log, their movements still wary and uncertain. Asher handed each of them a bowl and a wooden spoon before serving himself.

Noticing their hesitation, Asher took a large, exaggerated gulp of his own soup. "Aaahhh," he sighed contentedly. "That really hits the spot."

Encouraged by Asher's enjoyment, the two began to eat. Their initial caution gave way to hunger, and soon they were devouring the soup with gusto.

"It's delicious, isn't it?" Asher asked, his voice gentle and encouraging.

The beastkin nodded, their eyes still fixed on their bowls.

Asher's face broke into a wide, slightly goofy grin. "Hehe, I knew you'd like it. After all, I am the world's best chef!"

At last, the two looked up from their meals, their eyes meeting Asher's warm gaze. For a moment, silence hung in the air, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

"Thank... you..." The words came out as barely more than a whisper, but they seemed to shatter something within the young beastkin.

Tears welled up in their eyes, spilling down their cheeks in silent rivers of grief and relief. Asher said nothing, allowing them this moment to process their emotions. He continued eating his own soup, though the taste had turned bitter in his mouth.

As the three moons rose in the night sky, casting their ethereal light over the scene, Asher found himself lost in thought. The two little horrors – Inky and Jormu – had yet to return from wherever they had disappeared to after the battle. He couldn't help but wonder what mischief they might be getting into.

……..

Little did he know that at the bottom of a nearby lake, a scene of eerie beauty and unsettling power was unfolding. Two miniature creatures floated amidst the tangled corpses of a giant azure snake and a black Kraken resting on the lakebed. Where the hearts of these massive beasts should have been, occult circles glowed with an otherworldly light, powered by soul crystals burning with ghostly blue flames.

"Do you think it would work?" one of the tiny beings asked, its voice bubbling through the water.

"Well, I don't know," the other replied, frustration evident in its tone. "The souls are still connected to the bodies by a thread as thin as gossamer, just like when we found them. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to pull them back."

"Maybe we need more crystals?"

"No, the ones we've used are still working well, stabilizing the connection. But the link on the other end is growing weak and changing rapidly... Perhaps it's because of the changes in the bodies due to decay. The vessels are no longer compatible."

"So what do we do now?!" The first creature's voice rose in pitch, panic seeping into its words.

Silence fell between them as they continued to brainstorm, desperately seeking a solution to their arcane problem.

Unbeknownst to the tiny creatures, their efforts were being observed. Perched on a branch of a tall tree near the lake shore, Winston watched the unfolding scene with keen interest. His eyes took in every detail – the glowing circles, the burning soul crystals, the chains of ghostly light connecting it all.

"How interesting," Winston murmured, his signature creepy laugh bubbling up from his throat. "Hue hue hue."

With that, he melted back into the darkness, leaving the lake and its secrets behind.

…..

Back at the camp, the young Lapinians had finally cried themselves out. Their faces were streaked with tears, but a semblance of calm had settled over them. Asher, noticing their empty bowls, offered them another serving of soup, which they accepted with quiet nods.

As they ate, Asher maintained a comforting presence, tending to the fire and allowing them the space to process their trauma. When at last their second bowls were empty, he spoke softly.

"You both should get some rest," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Tomorrow, we'll find a way to get you two back home."

The beastkin acknowledged his words with small nods. They stood, placing their bowls near Asher, and offered him tiny bows of appreciation before retreating to the cabin.

As Asher watched their small forms disappear into the shelter, a wave of helplessness washed over him. He wished he could do more, take away their pain and fear, but he knew he was already doing all he could.

"Haaahhhh..." A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he turned his gaze to the night sky. The three moons hung there, silent witnesses to the day's events. As he stared up at them, Asher couldn't help but wonder about the whereabouts of Inky and Jormu once again.