Extract from the -{ Tome of the ‘Forgotten One’ }- Divine scripture of the Church of the ‘Forgotten One’.

"As the stars realign in cosmic harmony, anticipate the fulfillment of my sacred vow. I shall purge the remnants of falsehood and illuminate the path to a future bathed in the brilliance of divine truth." (The Promise of Restoration 5:8)

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The Swift siblings' tale hung in the air, heavy with unspoken grief. Sarah's voice quivered as she mentioned their uncle Rowan, a town guard, and Awakened, hired to protect their trading expeditions. "But this time," she whispered, her ears drooping, "our luck ran out." The words seemed to suck the warmth from the air, leaving only a hollow ache.

Asher felt the weight of their loss, recognizing that some wounds needed time to heal. He let the silence stretch, filled only by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant calls of unfamiliar birds.

As they emerged from the forest's embrace, Willowwick came into view, its modest buildings a stark contrast to the wild expanse they'd traversed. Asher called another halt, his eyes darting to Winston's newly formed feline ears.

"Would Winston's, uh, ears cause any problems in town?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice.

Sarah and Clover turned, their gazes fixating on Winston's twitching ears. The noses bristled slightly, a mixture of fascination and wariness evident in their expressions.

"When did—" Clover began, then shook his head, his whiskers twitching. "Never mind. While our population is mostly smallfolk races, it's not unusual to see others from different territories. Many rogues prefer to travel the Primal Haven, settling wherever they please, regardless of major territorial divisions."

Sarah nodded, her eyes still studying Winston's ears as if trying to determine their authenticity. "If Sir Asher can perform a similar kind of illusion, that would be ideal. Ears like yours are only mentioned in stories about beings from the floors above." Her voice held a mix of awe and trepidation.

Asher sighed, adjusting his hood. "Unfortunately, I'm not capable of such magic. I'll have to stick with the cloak."

With practiced efficiency, Asher had Jormu and Inky conceal themselves within his cloak, their presence a comforting weight against his skin. Inky summoned the salvaged items from the battle including weapons and carriages from the fallen beastkin. The sight of these possessions brought a fresh wave of grief to the siblings' faces, their noses twitching with barely suppressed emotions.

"The Marigold's carriage is untouched," Asher observed softly. "We should return it to any remaining family members. As for the weapons, I hope you can help identify their owners."

With solemn reverence, Sarah and Clover moved the Marigold family's weapons to their carriage. The Swift family's own carriage, too damaged for use, had its contents carefully stored in Inky's subspace with the siblings' consent. The air grew thick with unspoken memories and lingering sorrow.

As they approached Willowwick's short walls, a trio of guards approached. The siblings lowered their hoods, revealing their identities. Asher watched as the guards' postures stiffened, their faces becoming masks of stoic professionalism. Without a word, they stepped aside, allowing the group to pass. The silence spoke volumes, a testament to the frequency of such grim returns.

The town unfolded before them, a tapestry of diverse beastkin life. Lapinians formed the majority, their long ears twitching with curiosity as the group passed. Acornians with their fluffy chipmunk-like tails scurried about, their movements quick and agile. Asher's keen eyes picked out the diminutive Dozians, commanding respect despite their small stature.

"Those smaller beastkin are Dozians," Winston murmured, his voice low enough for only Asher to hear. "Physically weak, but they excel at magic and alchemy. Sharp creatures, highly respected."

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The dirt roads were wide, accommodating carriages pulled by elk-like beasts, their antlers adorned with intricate carvings. As they passed, many townsfolk fell silent, their eyes filled with understanding and sympathy. Some, recognizing the Swift siblings, placed hands over their hearts in silent prayer for the fallen, the gesture as natural as breathing.

After navigating the town's winding streets, they arrived at their destination. An old lapinian man sat on a bench outside, puffing on a pipe, tendrils of aromatic smoke curling around his grizzled features. His presence seemed unremarkable to the siblings, but Asher noted the keen intelligence in his eyes.

The Marigold family's building stood two stories tall, its ground floor split between a shop front and living quarters. The architecture spoke of efficiency, every inch of space within the town walls utilized. Cured wood, abundant thanks to the surrounding forests, formed the primary building material, its rich scent permeating the air.

As the siblings steeled themselves to deliver the grim news, the old man's gravelly voice cut through the air like a knife.

"You should leave."

Clover, taken aback, tried to explain. "We have something important to—"

"As I said," the old man interrupted, his tone brooking no argument, "you should leave." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken understanding.

The group watched in stunned silence as the elder rose from his bench, stretching his hunched back with a series of audible pops. He folded his hands behind him, pipe balanced precariously, the ember glowing softly in the fading light.

"Such a task..." he mused, his voice softening. "There's no need to put ones as young as you through this. You've done enough, and you have my gratitude for bringing the carriage so far. It must have been tough. Go... I'll handle the rest."

With those words, he turned and entered the building, leaving the group in a state of bewildered relief. The siblings, grateful for the reprieve, observed a moment of silence before departing, Asher and Winston following close behind, the weight of unspoken grief hanging over them like a shroud.

The Swift family residence felt eerily quiet as Asher settled into the living area behind the storefront. Sarah and Clover perched uncomfortably on the edge of their seats, the reality of their new solitary existence weighing heavily upon them. Winston maintained his position at Asher's side, his ever-present smile a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere.

Jormu and Inky, oblivious to the emotional undercurrents, explored the house with unbridled curiosity. Their playful antics provided a surreal backdrop to the gravity of the moment, small noises of wonder and excitement punctuating the heavy silence.

Asher cleared his throat, drawing the siblings' attention. "I guess it's time to talk about the reason we made the oath."

Silence greeted his words, but Asher pressed on, undeterred.

"Well, first things first," he began, his voice steady despite the magnitude of his revelation. "The reason my ears are so different, and I'm so ignorant about knowledge that might seem basic to you, is because Winston and I do not belong to the tower."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Clover's eyes widened to saucers, while Sarah's jaw dropped in disbelief. The siblings exchanged shocked glances, their world view tilting on its axis.

"I hope you both understand why I took such a precaution," Asher continued, his voice gentle but firm. "I also need your help to understand more about the first floor of this tower, what you call the Primal Haven."

Clover seemed paralyzed by the revelation, his mouth opening and closing without sound. Sarah, however, leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with newfound curiosity.

"You mean you're from the Lawless Realm?" she asked, her voice a mixture of awe and excitement.

Asher nodded slowly. "If by the Lawless Realm you mean the realms outside the tower, then yes."

"That's amazing!" Sarah exclaimed, her earlier grief momentarily forgotten in the face of this incredible revelation.

Clover shook his head, a deep sigh escaping him. "While I find it easier not to believe what Sir Asher has said, there are indeed peculiarities that give credit to your statement. As the rule of the tower makes it impossible for a being not native to descend, theoretically you can indeed only come from the outside."

His words, though carefully measured, carried the weight of a world suddenly expanded beyond imagination. Clover continued, his voice growing stronger with each word.

"As for your request, as my sister has said previously, we are indebted to you. If by doing this we can repay even a bit of this debt, we will do our best to share our knowledge to the best of our abilities."

Sarah nodded vigorously, her ears bobbing with enthusiasm. The air in the room seemed to shift, the earlier grief giving way to a tentative hope and curiosity about the world beyond their understanding.

Asher smiled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. "Thank you. Well, let's save it for after dinner then. It's already nighttime."

Winston stepped forward before the siblings could respond, his voice smooth and reassuring. "You may leave the task of preparing dinner to me, Master Asher. Your time will be much better spent on what the siblings have to share with you."

As Winston moved towards the kitchen area, the scent of aromatic herbs and spices began to fill the air, a promise of comfort amid upheaval. Asher settled back, ready to listen and learn, while Sarah and Clover exchanged glances, steeling themselves to share the knowledge of their world with this mysterious outsider who had so unexpectedly entered their lives.