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.
