The Darkhaven residence was eerily quiet.
Tonight was a night of mourning.
The clan leader was mourning his son.
Inasmuch as the mourning was being done without a corpse, several members of the clan had surrounded a decorated altar with the picture of Bryce Darkhaven on it.
At the forefront of the gathering stood Saul Darkhaven and his wife.
Their faces were extremely somber, with extremely sad expressions on their faces.
The clan members, however, were in no mood for mourning. Of course, they dared not communicate it.
But right now, they were actually thinking of how to save their skins.
Even a fool would realize that with how powerful Kailen Darkhaven had become, a sword of Damocles loomed above the clan, and it was only a matter of time before the clan tasted annihilation or a mighty fall from grace.
Suddenly, as the mourning proceeded, the wind stirred with something ominous. An extremely baleful smell pervaded the whole clan.
Then several clan members started to cough.
