I. Zion's Vision for Strength
The fires of conquest had cooled, but Zion's heart burned hotter than ever.
He stood at the highest cliff overlooking Nouvo Lakay, a jar of divine blood resting in his hands and the memory of Moloh-Tal's fall etched deep in his soul.
"We are no longer prey," he whispered. "But we are not yet predators."
Though the Lwa had shaken the world, Zion knew his people must become something greater on their own—strong, united, awakened. Not dependent on gods, but shaped by them.
He brought the idea to the pantheon, gathered again in Papa Legba's home, where the light swayed like music and shadow danced with secrets.
"Let the people bond with the spirits of the land," Zion said. "Let them earn strength through trial—and through love."
Papa Legba grinned.
Ogou Feray let out a sharp laugh.
Erzulie Freda simply nodded, her eyes already distant, as if she'd known this would come.
And Baron Samedi toasted the air with a skull-shaped cup, saying, "Let them choose… and be chosen."
II. The Summoning
For seven days and seven nights, the Lwa walked the land in silence, calling out to the hidden forces of nature.
They whistled to the forests, sang to the rivers, and climbed into the wind itself.
From far-off corners of the continent, from places untouched by war or gods, they came:
Shadowcats with fur like night and eyes that reflected souls.
Stone-scaled serpents that coiled around truths and secrets.
Glowing birds whose songs could rouse the sleeping spirit.
Beasts of lightning, of mist, of blood and dream, each ancient, each tied to the invisible ley-lines of creation.
But these were not mere animals—they were Beast-Souls, creatures capable of cultivation, drawn only to those whose hearts called them without deceit or fear.
III. The Bonding Grounds
Zion had the bonding grounds carved at the edge of Nouvo Lakay—stone arenas ringed by moon-shaped trees, with altars of crystal to contain the ritual.
Each child, each warrior, each priestess and elder, regardless of rank or age, would walk the path once—a soul exposed, naked before the wild.
The Beast-Souls waited in the jungle, watching, listening.
Some walked forward at once—bound to hearts that had long been ready.
Others waited until a mortal proved themselves through fire, fasting, or fearless acts.
A few refused to come at all, leaving some empty-handed, humbled.
But to those who succeeded, the connection was instant—a wordless pact between soul and spirit, older than civilization.
Each new bond awakened something deeper:
Claws where hands once were weak
Eyes that could see lies and fate
Wings for those who once crawled in fear
And in the heart of it all, Zion himself stood, his own beast still unseen, still watching from somewhere beyond the veil.
IV. Closing Image
That night, the sky shimmered—not with stars, but with the glow of living souls, beast and human, united.
The people danced beside their new companions. Children slept curled in fur. Warriors meditated beside scaled giants. Priests prayed beside beasts who echoed their chants.
And far away, in the twisted ruins of the Ashbon temple, a whisper stirred in the cracked altar of Moloh-Tal:
"They are becoming too strong