In the Solan Clan, tragedy filled the air.
The Worshippers of Demons had departed after the descent of The Light. Hundreds of buildings lay in ruins, and many soldiers and civilians fell—some dead, others wounded. Even those near the Light were struck by the surge of spiritual energy; some experienced the advancement of their cores, others suffered severe imbalances, and a few… exploded under the pressure.
Among the afflicted was the Grand Elder himself. Yet, he had prepared well.
That day, to him, was not one of sorrow—but the happiest of his long life. The clan leader was dead. There was now no one above him in rank… which meant he would become the next leader. He forgot his grandson who had died. He ignored all the grief he had endured. Greed had blinded his heart.
The people began to bury their loved ones and fallen comrades. There was no body for the clan leader, yet a great tomb was built for him at the heart of the Clans' Cemetery, above all the others.
Restoration and healing efforts resumed, but spirits were broken. Some even began to consider migrating to the Tareth Clan, a mid-tier rival and the oldest in the region—long suspected of spreading the rumor that the Shard of Forgetfulness had appeared within the clan.
Days later, the Grand Elder was officially appointed as the clan's leader. He revealed to everyone the Spiritual Lake, a long-kept secret, and morale rose once more. A flicker of hope began to seep into the hearts of the weary.
As for Cindra Draven and her daughter, no one dared approach them. Their noble status was well known, and Cindra hailed from a Great Clan—even if she resided on another continent.
She had fallen into deep sorrow after the loss of her husband, and the shock only grew when a message arrived… from Valrik himself. In it, he told her that the slave who had caused all the chaos… was her true son. But he had now disappeared, and all she was left with was pain.
Yet she held herself together. She packed her bags and decided to return to her original clan, along with her daughter. It was a long journey across a sea teeming with monsters, but it was the safest path for her and her child. The new clan leader sent some soldiers to escort her—not out of affection, but to appease the Great Clan and show respect.
In the great Hall of Elders, those who had survived gathered.
Once, they were twelve elders. Now, only eight remained—faces etched with shadows of anger and fear.
The Grand Elder sat upon the throne that had once belonged to Valrik Solan, the lawbreaker—as if nothing had ever changed.
In a confident tone, he said:
"Deliver a full report of what happened."
All eyes turned to the youngest elder, who had survived by a miracle. He rose, hesitant, and said:
"My Lord Leader… The Light descended suddenly. There were no clear signs. Even the seers of the Grand Clans did not foresee it. The lights of the shards fell across various parts of the continent—perhaps even in others. "
Each shard held its own world, governed by its own laws and reflecting its unique nature.
In some cases, a shard would choose—on its own—who it deemed worthy to enter its world. These chosen ones are the elites of this reality, known as the Gifted, granted a rare chance to obtain extraordinary powers.
Each shard has a will of its own. If it accepts someone, that person cannot leave its world until they've passed its next phase. But if they are rejected—or banished—it means the shard has changed its mind and refused to continue with them.
As for the seers, they are individuals who possess shards tied to time.
Their power revolves around glimpsing the future or receiving signs pointing to what is to come. However, such signs are rare and ambiguous, and often unreliable. This is why the greater and grander clans keep many seers—to increase the odds of a true vision.
If the same vision appears to more than one seer, its credibility rises greatly.
Naturally, the stronger the seer, and the more advanced their shard, the more accurate their visions become—and the more likely they are to come true.
"As for those chosen by the shards here… the first was Nyktos, as everyone expected. But the second…"
He hesitated, then continued: "…was a slave, my lord."
Darkness clouded the face of the Grand Elder. He remembered that wretched slave who had humiliated him in front of everyone. Could it be true that he had been chosen?
To be chosen meant superiority… and a future. It was unbearable.
The elder shouted at the others:
"Listen closely! We will not participate in the next Clan Tournament! We've lost too many of our children and warriors. From now on, we will seal the clan, and rebuild ourselves in strength. The Lake will help us… and we must learn from this lesson."
Then he raised his hand high and shouted:
"From this day forward… the Solan Clan shall close its gates—until it emerges stronger than ever before!"