]Aslan, the Great Arbor, is not merely a tree but a living being, its origins tracing back to a time before time was measured. Its exsistence can only be described as a primordial being, born from the first heartbeat of the earth itself, when the unseen realms of existence—those beyond the reach of mortal senses—intersected with the physical world. In its earliest days, Aslan was said to be the bridge between worlds, a conduit through which the energies of creation flowed freely, nourishing the earth and all who dwelled upon it.
Aslan's connection to the unseen is profound. It is believed that the tree's roots extend not only through the earth but also through the fabric of reality itself, touching realms beyond comprehension. These roots are thought to draw power from the very essence of the cosmos, channeling it into the world in the form of healing radiance. This radiance, most potent near Aslan's massive trunk, has the power to mend wounds, cure ailments, and even restore life to those on the brink of death. The Akuma, who dwell in the shadow of Aslan, have come to rely on this sacred light, and many of their rituals involve offerings to the tree in hopes of receiving its blessings.
But Aslan's light is not merely a force of healing; it is also a beacon that calls to the leviathans. These ancient creatures, some as old as the tree itself, are deeply connected to Aslan in ways that even the wisest of the Akuma cannot fully understand. The leviathans are drawn to Aslan's power, their minds entranced by its presence. They circle the islands like silent guardians, their immense forms slipping through the waters and skies, ready to unleash violent fury upon any who would dare to approach the tree with ill intent.
These leviathans are not mindless beasts but are considered the last remnants of a forgotten age, beings of immense power and wisdom who have chosen to protect Aslan with unwavering devotion. Their scales, harder than any known metal, glisten with the same light that emanates from Aslan, marking them as true children of the tree. The Akuma speak of rare moments when the leviathans appear to commune with the tree, their low, rumbling songs echoing through the islets, filling the air with a sense of ancient majesty.
Yet, Aslan, the Great Arbor, does not rely solely on the leviathans for its defense. It possesses its own formidable powers, one of which is the ability to create light bodies—ethereal warriors formed from pure energy. These light bodies take the shape of ancient heroes, figures from a history long forgotten, whose deeds and names have been lost to the passage of time. These radiant warriors are summoned by Aslan in times of dire need, their forms shimmering with the tree’s healing light, yet their purpose is far from gentle.
The light bodies are embodiments of Aslan’s will, moving with the grace of long-dead champions, their forms reminiscent of legends told in whispers. Each light body wields a weapon forged from pure energy, a reflection of the arms once carried by the heroes they resemble. These spectral warriors fight with unmatched skill and strength, defending the tree from any who would seek to exploit its power or desecrate its sanctity. The Akuma have witnessed these beings in battle, standing in awe as the light bodies cut through enemies with precision and speed, their luminous forms untouchable by mortal means.
The light bodies are not mere constructs; they carry with them echoes of the past, memories of the heroes they resemble. When they manifest, the air around them is filled with the distant sound of ancient battles, and those who are attuned to the tree's power can hear the faint voices of these long-forgotten heroes. They speak of battles fought in a time before the Akuma, of a world shaped by forces now lost to history. Some Akuma believe that by listening to these voices, they can gain glimpses of the truth about Aslan’s origins and its place in the world’s ancient lineage.
Aslan, the Great Arbor, stands as a monument to the forgotten past, a bridge to the unseen, and a guardian of life and death. Its roots are intertwined with the fabric of existence, and its branches cradle the nine islets, keeping them safe from the ravages of time and the prying eyes of the outside world. But this safety comes at a cost. The leviathans and light bodies, the ancient guardians of Aslan, ensure that only those worthy of its knowledge can approach its trunk, and even then, they must prove themselves in ways unknown to mortals.
The Akuma, despite their reverence, know that they are but newcomers to the islands, caught in a story that began long before their arrival. They live in the shadow of Aslan, aware that the tree holds secrets that could reshape their understanding of the world—secrets that may be revealed when the time is right, or perhaps, when the right questions are asked. Until then, they continue to survive, drawing strength from the light of Aslan, the Great Arbor, and respecting the ancient forces that guard its mysteries.