The wind carried a chill across the high plateau, brushing Kairo's hair into his eyes as he and Selene trudged along the jagged path. The relic from the temple pulsed faintly in his pack, like a heartbeat too powerful to ignore. Every step reminded him that this mission wasn't just about survival—it was about understanding the world he had been thrust into.
"This land…" Selene began, her voice low and measured, "is old. Older than most clans care to remember. There are whispers of civilizations that predate even the Greek and Yoruba myths, buried in ruins and forgotten temples. Powerful bloodlines still linger, though many are fractured."
Kairo glanced at her, curiosity piqued. "Fractured how?"
She paused, scanning the horizon. "Clans split by ideology, ambition, and betrayal. Some cling to old powers, others embrace newer Aether techniques. But all have one thing in common—they covet what you carry."
He felt a shiver. Even without mentioning Sensi, the warning was clear. The world wasn't just dangerous—it was a chessboard, and they were pieces in a game bigger than they could yet imagine.
As they moved, Selene began detailing what she knew. There were five major Greek clans, each claiming descent from different minor gods, with hierarchies that dictated not only rank but who could awaken certain powers. Their training grounds were brutal, designed to weed out all but the most prodigious. Then there were the Yoruba clans, secretive and ancient, with mastery over elements like fire, water, and shadow through intricate Aether manipulation. Their scholars could turn bloodlines into weapons and artifacts into war machines.
"Egyptian factions are more political than Greek or Yoruba," Selene continued, her fingers tracing patterns in the air as if sketching invisible maps. "They use relics as leverage. If a clan's artifact is stolen, they will retaliate—not for honor, but for survival. And some have tied themselves to creatures most would call monsters—Anubis-like guardians, spirits of chaos that obey only the highest-ranking priests."
Kairo felt his chest tighten. "And the gangs?"
"Most are small," Selene said, shaking her head. "Hired swords, rogue factions. But every so often, a prodigy appears—someone like you or me. Then the game changes. The world reacts."
Kairo remained silent for a moment, letting the weight of her words sink in. He thought of Sensi, of his father's stolen power, and of the gang he hadn't seen for months. The thought of returning to them now seemed almost alien.
"Not all clans play fair," Selene said suddenly, her voice sharpening. "Some use assassination, espionage, or manipulation to rise. If you're not careful, you won't just lose a mission—you'll lose everything."
Kairo clenched his fists. Every lesson, every mark, every burst of Aether training flashed through his mind. The battles, the guardians, the relics—they were all preparation for this world. For this war.
As they descended into a hidden valley, the wind shifted again, carrying distant sounds. Voices. Footsteps. Or perhaps something older, moving between the shadows. Selene's eyes narrowed.
"Other factions," she said quietly. "They know someone has taken the relic. The clans are restless, and scouts will appear soon."
Kairo's pulse quickened. He could already feel the tug of the relic's power, sensing its essence whispering of other worlds, other gods. He tightened his grip, remembering Selene's words about control and restraint.
"Stay close," she instructed, weaving Aether into protective layers around them. "If they sense the relic's power, they won't hesitate to strike."
They moved in silence, navigating narrow stone passages, and Kairo couldn't help but notice how naturally Selene adapted. She moved like water, precise, deliberate, and yet unpredictable. Every time he thought he had read her, she shifted—shadow blending with light, offense turning into defense.
Hours later, they reached the edge of another ruin. Here, remnants of an ancient academy sprawled across the cliffs, massive pillars carved with inscriptions in unknown tongues. Selene whispered that this was once a training ground for prodigies of multiple clans, long abandoned, yet still resonating with residual Aether.
Kairo stepped forward, feeling the pulse of power in the stones. His Mark tingled, a faint heat crawling across his skin. This was more than history—it was a lesson.
Selene's eyes softened briefly. "Here, they learned, they fought, and sometimes… they died. All for power. All for legacy. We're no different, but remember—we carry our choices with us, not just our bloodlines."
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ruins. In the distance, barely visible, figures emerged—scouts from a Greek clan, their Aether faintly glowing, weapons in hand. Kairo felt the thrill of battle rise. This was not just a fight for survival. This was a test of everything he had learned: his power, his instincts, and his ability to trust Selene implicitly.
And somewhere, far beyond their vision, eyes watched—ancient, calculating, and patient. The main antagonist, already aware of the relic, began moving pieces on the global chessboard.
Kairo swallowed. The war was no longer coming—it was already here.