Sanctuary: Safe Haven

Canna didn't waste any time. As soon as he emerged from the chaos of the first orphanage, his thoughts turned immediately to the others scattered across the kingdom of Arenthia. The urgency of the mission weighed heavily on him, knowing that with every passing moment, more children suffered in places that were supposed to protect them. He couldn't let that continue.

He stood at the edge of the portal, the dark crimson swirl reflecting his determined expression. "Flora, I need you," Canna called out, his voice steady but urgent. Within seconds, the red glow of the portal intensified, and Flora stepped through. Her presence brought an immediate sense of calm, the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers enveloping the area around them.

Flora, ever perceptive, sensed the gravity of the situation and nodded, her resolve matching Canna's. Without wasting another moment, she extended her arms, and her vines sprang to life, writhing and twisting with purpose. "Let's get these children to safety," Flora said softly, her voice tinged with a gentle yet fierce determination.

Canna gave her a brief, appreciative glance before they set off together. He transformed into a bolt of lightning once again, streaking across the night sky, while Flora followed in her own way, her vines trailing behind her like a verdant wave.

Wherever they went, her vines would wrap around the children with a softness that belied their strength, cradling them as if they were the most precious of treasures, and guiding them into the portal to the domain.

Each orphanage they targeted was a scene of chaos. The children, most of whom had never known a kind touch or a warm embrace, were terrified. Many screamed, others cowered, and some simply stared in wide-eyed confusion as Flora's vines approached. But there was no time to explain, no time to soothe each individual fear. Canna knew that hesitation could cost lives.

In the second orphanage, as soon as they breached the doors, Mortem and Vorgrim moved with lethal precision. The staff that had kept the children in such deplorable conditions were dealt with swiftly, shadows consuming them before they could so much as raise an alarm.

The children were frightened, their tiny voices crying out in the dark, but Flora's vines were there, wrapping around them with gentle care, lifting them into the portal. Despite the fear, many of the children could sense that something was different, that these strange beings meant them no harm. Some even reached out to the vines, clutching at them as if they were lifelines.

By the time they moved on to the third orphanage, Canna had streamlined the process. He would storm in, his lightning form crackling with energy, disorienting anyone who might resist. Flora's vines would follow, seeking out the children and spiriting them away before they could be further harmed.

Meanwhile, Mortem and Vorgrim dealt with any guards or staff who might pose a threat, their efficiency unmatched.

The sheer scale of their mission began to weigh on Canna as they reached the fourth orphanage. Each one held over a thousand children, and though they were making good progress, the numbers were staggering. The emotional toll was immense—seeing so many children, all malnourished and broken, made his heart ache with a deep, simmering rage.

In one orphanage, as they were moving the children, Canna caught sight of a boy, no older than six, with hollow eyes and a gaunt frame. The child was so frail that it seemed a strong gust of wind could knock him over. As Flora's vines gently lifted him, the boy didn't scream or cry—he simply stared ahead, as if too exhausted to care.

It was a sight that would stay with Canna for a long time, fueling his determination to see this mission through.

In the fifth orphanage, the situation grew even more dire. The staff had heard of the previous assaults and were more prepared. As soon as Canna appeared, a group of guards rushed him, weapons drawn. But Mortem was faster. His dark tendrils lashed out, pulling the guards into the shadows, their screams cut short by the cold, suffocating darkness.

Vorgrim followed up, his greatsword flashing in the dim light as he cut down any who dared to stand in their way.

The children here were more resistant, their fear so deeply ingrained that they fought against Flora's vines, struggling and screaming in terror. Flora's heart ached as she coaxed them gently, her voice soothing despite the urgency. "You're safe now," she whispered, over and over, her vines wrapping around them like a protective cocoon. "You're safe."

Despite the resistance, they managed to move all the children through the portal. As the last of them disappeared into the sanctuary, Canna felt a brief moment of relief, but it was fleeting. There were still so many more to save.

By the time they reached the eighth orphanage, Canna's body was weary, but his resolve remained unshaken. The staff here had tried to barricade the doors, but it was a futile effort. Canna's lightning form blasted through the barriers with ease, and Flora's vines tore through the remnants, clearing a path for the children.

In this orphanage, Canna came across a small girl, no older than three, who was huddled in a corner, her face streaked with tears. She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes, her small body trembling. Canna knelt beside her, his heart breaking at the sight. "It's okay," he said softly, reaching out to her. "I'm here to take you somewhere safe."

The girl hesitated for a moment before reaching out to him, her tiny hand grasping his. Canna lifted her gently, cradling her in his arms as Flora's vines enveloped them both. "You're safe now," he whispered, carrying her to the portal.

And so it went, orphanage after orphanage, each one a scene of heartbreak and horror. The children were all different, but their stories were the same—abandoned, neglected, abused. Canna's heart grew heavier with each one, but he pushed forward, knowing that he couldn't stop, not until every last child was safe.

As they reached the fifteenth orphanage, Canna felt the exhaustion creeping in, but he refused to let it slow him down. He had come too far, and there was only one more orphanage left. Mortem and Vorgrim were relentless, cutting down any who dared oppose them, while Flora continued her tireless work, her vines moving with a grace and precision that was almost supernatural.

The final orphanage was the largest of them all, with over two thousand children crammed into its cold, damp halls. Canna's heart sank as he saw the conditions these children were living in, the hopelessness in their eyes. He moved quickly, more determined than ever to get them out.

As Flora's vines wrapped around the children, Canna could see the fear in their eyes slowly give way to something else—hope. It was a fragile, tentative hope, but it was there, and it gave him the strength to keep going.

Mortem and Vorgrim cleared the way, their movements swift and deadly. Any resistance was crushed, any threat eliminated. Canna moved through the halls like a force of nature, his lightning form illuminating the dark corridors as he searched for every last child.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last child was sent through the portal. Canna stood in the now-empty orphanage, his body heavy with exhaustion but his heart light with the knowledge that he had done it. They had saved them all.

But there was no time for rest. Canna knew that there would be consequences for his actions, that the kingdom of Arenthia would not take this lightly. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside. There was still work to be done, still children to care for, still a sanctuary to build.

As he stepped through the portal, back into the safety of his domain, Canna felt a sense of peace wash over him. The children were safe. They were home. And for now, that was enough.

The kingdom of Arenthia might be on high alert, but Canna had done what he set out to do. And whatever came next, he would face it head-on, with the strength and determination that had brought him this far.