Sanctuary: Safe Haven

For three days, Arborath, the tiny floating turtle, had been a guest in Canna's sanctuary. In all that time, the ancient protector seemed content to simply drift lazily through the sanctuary, observing everything with keen, wise eyes. Canna suspected Arborath was using a skill to suppress his true rank, as none of the guardians could sense his immense power.

In truth, Arborath was not the imposing colossus that had once stood hundreds of feet tall in his forest kingdom. Now, he floated around as a small, whimsical turtle. But despite his size, there was no denying his immense strength. What Canna found most fascinating, though, was Arborath's attitude—more carefree than intimidating.

He seemed at ease in this new environment, yet keenly aware of its shortcomings.

Over the next few days, Canna gave Arborath a grand tour of the sanctuary. Together, they explored its many regions, starting with the flowing streams and serene trees that dotted the landscape. Canna spoke of the residents who lived in harmony here—how he had rescued many of them from terrible fates, offering them a new life in this peaceful domain.

Arborath listened closely, offering occasional comments. The turtle was not shy about sharing his opinions, and as Canna had expected, Arborath had a deep connection to nature. He had high praise for the sanctuary's natural beauty, but his expression soured whenever they passed through the barren lands—the parts of the sanctuary that still remained untouched, empty, and lifeless.

"I don't care much for this barrenness," Arborath had grumbled as they passed through one such area. "It's unnatural. Life should spring forth from the earth, not stagnate like this."

Canna nodded in understanding. "I'm working on it. Bit by bit, the land is being restored, but as you can see, I still have a long way to go."

Arborath also had the chance to meet some of the sanctuary's most powerful guardians. When he was introduced to Stormbringer, the last of his kind, and Stormrend, the hydra, Arborath was surprisingly... unimpressed.

"Cute," the turtle had said with a dismissive chuckle.

Canna had nearly choked in disbelief. "Cute? That's Stormbringer! The last of the Apex Dragons! And Stormrend, a hydra capable of leveling entire cities!"

"Yes, yes," Arborath waved a vine-like appendage. "Very destructive. But in the grand scale of things, they're just overgrown lizards with a penchant for causing a mess."

Canna had stared at the turtle, wondering how any creature could downplay the significance of these two beings. But Arborath was unfazed. To him, they were just forces of nature, and he had seen plenty of those in his eons of existence.

What surprised Canna even more was Arborath's choice of where to spend most of his time: Sylvanar. The massive tree being, towering high above the sanctuary, was a living giant with deep roots in the earth. Canna noticed that Arborath often floated up to rest on Sylvanar's shoulders or perched atop his head, quietly observing the sanctuary from above.

Curious, Canna asked one day, "Why do you spend so much time with Sylvanar?"

Arborath chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a mix of nostalgia and fondness. "This one is like me, though younger by a few millennia. Do you know what our favorite hobby is as guardians, young Harbinger?"

Canna thought for a moment before answering. "Guarding? Protecting the land?"

Arborath let out a deep, amused laugh. "Not at all, young one. It's watching."

"Watching?" Canna echoed, intrigued by the emotion in Arborath's voice as he said the word.

The tiny turtle's eyes softened, his gaze distant as if recalling long-forgotten memories. "Yes, watching. Guardians like us... we watch over the people we protect. We watch them grow, we watch them live. From the moment they're born, to the time they have families of their own, and then watching their families continue the cycle.

The passage of time is something we experience through others. I've seen many beings live full lives, leave their mark on the world, and then pass on. But they leave something behind: a legacy. And watching that legacy unfold—generation after generation—that is where we find joy."

Canna listened quietly, his eyes drawn to the sanctuary below. People were bustling about—warriors training, residents tending to chores, some lounging in the grass, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the sanctuary. It was a thriving community, a place that Canna had worked hard to build from the barren wasteland it once was.

"You see, young Harbinger," Arborath continued, "it's not just about guarding or protecting. It's about witnessing life flourish, knowing that we've had a hand in preserving that. I can tell this one—" he gestured to Sylvanar with a vine—"is likely around 1,500 years old. Still a sapling in our terms, but he's learned the same joy. We watch, and through watching, we live."

Canna absorbed Arborath's words, his thoughts trailing to the future. He had created this sanctuary to protect life, to give others a place to live in peace. But he had never considered the joy of simply watching, of seeing generations grow under his protection. It was a humbling thought.

Arborath interrupted his musings with another chuckle. "You know, I've met a few Harbingers in my time. Quite different from you, though. Most of them are twisted, chaotic beings—that's why they're called Harbingers in the first place."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Canna raised an eyebrow. "Really? Have you fought one?"

"Oh, yes," Arborath said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "The last one I met was the Harbinger of Void. Now that was an interesting encounter."

Canna leaned in, curious. "What happened?"

Arborath chuckled again, the sound deep and rich. "You see, nothing could touch him. Every attack, every spell, every weapon—it all passed right through him, like he was made of nothing. Void, as it were. It was the most frustrating thing I've ever experienced. I was only a Great Calamity at the time, not quite the catastrophe you see before you now.

And this Harbinger? He just wanted to have some fun by setting my forest on fire."

"Sounds... charming," Canna said dryly.

"Indeed," Arborath laughed. "But the battle didn't last long. The Harbinger of Void eventually lost interest and left. You see, every time he destroyed something, I would just rejuvenate it. I imagine he got bored of the back-and-forth."

Canna shook his head, both amazed and slightly horrified by the story. "That sounds like a nightmare."

"It was," Arborath replied with a grin. "But it was a good lesson too. Every Harbinger has a purpose, a reason for their existence. Yours is creation, preservation. The Harbinger of Void and other Harbringers? Destruction, chaos.

I've seen both sides, and I think I prefer your brand of Harbinger."

Canna couldn't help but smile at the compliment, though the thought of encountering another Harbinger weighed on his mind. He had been lucky so far, but if others like the Harbinger of Void still roamed the world... what would happen if their paths crossed?

He gazed out over the peaceful sanctuary, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders once more. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present. There was still so much to do, so much to watch—and he had Arborath's wise words to guide him.