A murmur rippled through the godlings. One of them, unable to contain their curiosity, spoke up cautiously. "Does that mean the Summoner could also glimpse the sixth stage?"

Krogan shook his head slowly, a shadow of a smile touching his lips.

"Not everyone is destined for the sixth stage," he said, voice calm but edged with finality. "But through the Summoner System, one who is not destined can still wield a power akin to it, through their summon. They will touch a fragment of what the beast king embodies, and in doing so, gain abilities far beyond their natural potential."

One of the Harpies, wings folding tightly behind her, finally spoke, her tone careful but measured. "Lord Krogan… now that we understand more of your purpose, we wish to know how our people might be of assistance. Our goal was never to oppose you. We came to learn, and perhaps to help maintain balance."

The Werewolf godling nodded, adding, "And if this Summoner System is to take root, there will need to be contact between your realm and ours. The exchange of knowledge, resources, and guidance. How might we facilitate such a connection?"

Even the merman, her gaze sharp and reflective, leaned slightly forward. "Our peoples are numerous and diverse. We control lands, seas, and skies. Surely there are ways we can be of help to you"

Krogan's golden eyes swept over the godlings, his expression shifting "You now see the potential of the Summoner System," he said, his tone calm but firm, carrying an unmistakable weight. "But there is a choice to be made. You could attempt to contain it, limit its spread, interfere in its growth… as many would instinctively do when faced with forces they do not fully understand. Or… you could guide it. You could allow it to grow, not as a threat, but as a new pillar of strength for this world."

"Seeing your willingness to walk this path, I ask little of you. Only that you open your borders to my realm, so that I may act openly and recruit Beast Kings without the stain of secrecy. This way, the work can be seen for what it is—not some shadowed plot, but a foundation built in the light."

His eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of fire in their depths.

"I would also ask your aid in contacting the Beast Kings. Some of them will not listen to me. But to the godlings… they might. Speak to them. Tell them of what stands to be gained by joining the menagerie. Tell them of the strength that comes not from domination, but from unity."

Finally, he leaned back, his expression softening to something almost neutral. "Apart from this, I need nothing more of you. The rest is mine to shoulder"

The godlings glanced at one another, silent currents of unease and calculation passing between them. At last, one of the apelings stepped forward, his head tilting slightly toward Krogan. His voice carried the respectful gravity of one treading carefully.

"If we might be so bold, Your Grace… this has grown beyond the authority we hold. Such decisions cannot be made by us alone."

He hesitated briefly, then added with quiet frustration,

"We would have invited our kings to be present, but our means of communication has been blocked since we stepped into the Cursed Lands."

Krogan raised a hand in a casual, almost dismissive motion, his expression unreadable.

"That was a precaution of mine. No message leaves or enters my domain without my awareness. But the wards have been lifted. You may now reach out to your kings as you wish."

The godlings stirred, relief and uncertainty flickering across their faces, but before they could speak further, Krogan's voice cut through the moment, smooth and deliberate.

"Still, I would advise patience. Rooms have already been prepared for you. Stay a while. Walk my streets. Speak with my people. See for yourselves the culture that is beginning to bloom here. In that time, you may share what we have discussed today with your kings, let them hear your words seasoned with your own impressions rather than the haze of suspicion."

He leaned forward slightly, golden eyes glinting.

"When you are ready, we will convene again. Then, together, we may hold our final discussion before you depart. What say you?"

The chamber was still for a moment. The godlings exchanged long, silent looks, weighing unspoken thoughts. Then, one of the apelings stepped forward, placing his palm over his chest in a gesture of respect.

"We would be honored to stay, Lord Krogan. It is not often we journey so far from our realms. To witness this land with our own eyes… it will be a privilege."

Krogan's lips curved into the faintest smile. He rose from his seat, his towering frame casting long reflection across the chamber's carved floor.

"Then it is settled. My attendants will escort you to your quarters. Rest. Observe. Learn. In time, you will find whether this realm is a cage… or a beacon."

With that, he turned and strode from the hall, the heavy air shifting in his wake. The godlings remained silent until the last echo of his steps faded, their unease unspoken but palpable.

They were led into a towering hall carved into the black stone of the cliffs, where chambers had been prepared, each one tailored with uncanny precision to their kind. Pools of saltwater for the Merman, high perches for the Harpies, and wide, reinforced floors for the apelings and wolf-blooded.

One of the apelings muttered, low but audible to the others,

"He prepared for us. Long before this meeting. He knew we would stay."

As the godlings dispersed into their quarters, Krogan's realm did not sleep. From their windows, they could see torchlit processions winding through the streets. Beastkin sang in deep, resonant voices, their chants accompanied by the beat of drums and the call of horns. Statues of legendary Beast Kings, carved in both stone and living wood were paraded, offerings of food and blood laid at their feet.

The Werewolf godling lingered at the balcony, watching. His jaw tightened. "This is not the work of weeks. Nor months. He has been preparing for years."

The Harpy folded her wings tighter, thoughtful. "And we are only now beginning to see the roots."

The godlings held true to their word, moved among the people of Krogan's realm in the days that followed. As told before, the culture here was still in its infancy, more sprout than tree, its shape yet to be decided.

Yet instead of merely observing, the godlings soon discovered themselves becoming participants. Beastkin gathered eagerly around them, their eyes wide, their questions flowing freely. They sought to know of the skies, of the seas, of the forests and the lands beyond. The Harpy found herself teaching flight drills to a flock of winged beastkin, who marveled at her grace. The Werewolf sparred with young warriors, correcting their forms and showing restraint in his strength. The Merman told stories of the tides and showed children how to read currents using a bowl of water and salt.

They had come expecting to watch, yet found themselves perticipating.

And it was not unwelcome. For the first time in many of their long lives, the godlings felt the weight of true admiration. The beastkin gazed upon them not as rulers or distant deities, but as figures of wonders, teachers, guides, embodiments of possibilities they had never imagined.

A quiet thought began to stir among the godlings: if this admiration could be cultivated, if the young culture of this realm absorbed their values and customs, what seeds might bloom in generations to come? It was a dangerous thought, but not an unpleasant one.

After several days, their kings' responses finally reached them. With Krogan's barriers down, each godling was able to establish contact. Within their chambers, the air shimmered as spectral projections of their monarchs appeared, towering figures of authority, their presence filling the rooms with an entirely different weight than the beastkin's eager gazes.

The moment the images of their rulers took form, the godlings, almost in unison, raised their hands and cautioned quickly "Be mindful of your words."

They spoke in hushed, urgent tones. It was, after all, Krogan's domain. His influence was everywhere, and though he had promised them freedom of contact, none of them dared assume his reach ended at mere barriers.

The kings inclined their heads in understanding. Their voices, softened, carried through the projection "Then speak. Tell us what you have seen."

To no one's surprise, Zephyr and the other monarchs who were called upon hearing of Krogan's ambitions for ascension, began to shift their thinking. What had at first seemed like the designs of a powerful beastlord now revealed itself to be something far greater.

When divinity entered the discussion, personal interest became meaningless. Such matters no longer belonged to individuals or even kingdoms, but to the fate of the world itself.

The calls with their envoys were kept deliberately brief, each side cautious under the possibility of Krogan's unseen reach. The true discussions began only afterward, when the kings and queens withdrew into their own sanctums.

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