Sanctuary: Safe Haven

Canna stood before the gathered crowd of sanctuary inhabitants, his heart heavy with the responsibility of what he was about to ask of them. The gathering had been announced earlier in the day, and now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the land, everyone had assembled in the vast clearing at the heart of the sanctuary.

Verdant Wardens, Sylphirs, Barbarians, newly rescued dwarves, scholars, gnomes, beastkins, and others—over 2000 people stood before him, their faces expectant, curious, and in some cases, anxious. Even the mighty Sylvanar stood at a distance, his towering form a silent testament to the power that now resided within the sanctuary.

Canna took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, taking in the mix of races and faces that now called this place home. Mira, as usual, was at Canna's side, her small hands clutching his hands as she watched with wide, innocent eyes.

"Thank you all for being here," Canna began, his voice calm but carrying the weight of his words across the clearing. "I want to start by expressing my gratitude to each and every one of you. Your presence here, your willingness to be a part of this sanctuary, means more to me than I can put into words.

You've all come from different walks of life, different backgrounds, but now, you're part of something bigger—a sanctuary for those who cannot fight for themselves, for those who have been broken by the world and need a place to heal."

The crowd listened in silence, their eyes locked on Canna as he spoke. There was a warmth in his tone, a sincerity that resonated deeply with those gathered. They had seen the kindness in his actions, felt the safety and comfort of the sanctuary, but now, there was a sense that something more was about to be asked of them.

"Kael," Canna continued, turning slightly to the man at his side, "will be approaching each of you in the coming days to discuss your skills, your specialties. He'll help guide you to where you can contribute the most, but let me be clear—you will have complete freedom to choose your path.

Whatever field you wish to work in, whatever you want to do, this sanctuary is your home, and you will have the freedom to live your life as you see fit."

A few murmurs of appreciation and nods of understanding rippled through the crowd. For many of them, the idea of having a choice in their own lives was still something they were getting used to after years of being enslaved or oppressed.

"But that's not the main reason I've gathered you all here tonight," Canna said, his voice growing more serious. The atmosphere shifted as he spoke, a subtle tension settling over the crowd. The warmth of his earlier words was still there, but now it was undercut by something else—something darker.

Canna paused, his gaze hardening as he thought of the horrors he and Mortem had uncovered in the last two weeks. His fists clenched at his sides, the rage simmering beneath the surface barely contained. He could see that the crowd had sensed it too; they were watching him with a mixture of concern and anticipation.

"I need your help," Canna said, his voice steady but laced with anger. "I need all of your help. But it's not for fighting, planning, or killing. The help I need is something far more important. Tonight, I will be going out with my subordinates to rescue children—thousands of them. They are trapped in orphanages that are nothing more than prisons.

They've been beaten, starved, and broken in ways that no child should ever have to endure."

A ripple of shock ran through the crowd, gasps and murmurs of disbelief filling the air. Some of the new residents had heard whispers of the conditions in Arenthia, but to hear it confirmed like this, to know that Canna was about to take action, was something else entirely.

Canna's voice trembled slightly as he continued, the emotion raw and unfiltered. "These children have suffered more than we can imagine. They've been treated like animals, like objects to be used and discarded. Some of them are so broken that they don't even understand what kindness is anymore. And that's why I need your help.

When I bring them here, when I open that portal and send them into the sanctuary, they won't understand what's happening. They won't know what it means to be safe, to be loved. The only thing they will understand is warmth—the warmth of another person, the kindness of a stranger who shows them that they are worth something."

Tears welled up in the eyes of some of the sanctuary's inhabitants, especially those who had endured similar fates before finding refuge here. They could feel the pain in Canna's words, the rage that he was barely holding back. And they understood, more than anyone else, what it meant to be saved, to be given a second chance.

"The sanctuary is a home for all who cannot fight for themselves," Canna said, his voice rising with conviction. "A home for those who have been broken by the world but still want to survive. And now, I'm asking you to help me show these children that there is hope, that there is a place where they can heal, where they can be free."

A collective silence fell over the crowd as the weight of Canna's words settled in. Tears streamed down the faces of some, while others clenched their fists in determination. The air was thick with emotion—anger, sorrow, and a fierce, protective instinct that had been kindled by Canna's plea.

Canna looked out at the crowd, his heart swelling with pride as he saw the resolve in their eyes. "Tonight," he continued, "we will rescue these children. And when they arrive here, I need you all to be ready. I need you to be there for them, to welcome them with open arms, to show them that they are safe, that they are loved.

This is our mission, and it is more important than anything else we've done. Will you help me?"

A moment of silence followed, and then, one by one, voices began to rise in the crowd. "We will help!" "Count on us, Canna!" "For the children!" The words echoed through the clearing, growing louder and more unified until it was a roaring chorus of commitment.

Canna felt a lump rise in his throat, the overwhelming emotion threatening to break through his composed exterior. But he held it back, knowing that there was still work to be done.

"Thank you," Canna said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you, all of you. Together, we will make this sanctuary a true haven for those who need it most."

As the crowd began to disperse, preparing for the night ahead, Canna turned to Kael and Mortem, who had remained by his side throughout the speech. "Mortem," Canna said, "prepare everything. I want those orphanages cleared out before dawn."

Mortem nodded, his expression grim but determined. "Consider it done, Master."

Canna then turned to Kael, who had been silent but attentive throughout the announcement. "Kael, I'll need you to stay here and coordinate the arrival of the children. Make sure everything is ready."

Kael nodded, his eyes reflecting the same determination that Canna felt. "You can count on me."

Canna took a deep breath, his mind racing with the logistics of the mission ahead. But beneath the planning and the strategy, there was a deep, burning rage that drove him forward—the rage of knowing that innocent children had been made to suffer, and the fierce determination to make sure that they would never suffer again.

As the night fell and the sanctuary's inhabitants prepared for the arrival of the children, Canna stood at the edge of the clearing, staring out into the darkness. His heart was heavy with the weight of what was to come, but he knew that he was not alone. He had the support of his subordinates, his allies, and the sanctuary's residents.

Together, they would face the horrors of the world and bring hope to those who needed it most.

And as the first stars began to appear in the sky, Canna whispered a silent vow to himself and to the children he was about to rescue. "I will not let you down. You will be safe. You will be loved. And you will have a home."

With that, he turned and began to make the final preparations for the mission that would change the lives of countless children—and the sanctuary—forever.