The Seven Gifts had appeared — hovering, radiant, and humming with their own living energy — a promise and a warning to all who remained. The Empire had been touched by forces far beyond mortal reckoning, and those who would bear it must be worthy indeed.
As the Elders' forms faded into nothing, the Seven lingered for a heartbeat — radiant, humming, alive. Then, one by one, they vanished, dissolving into thin air, each guided by unseen will.
The Seven Gifts each sought out their destined masters — spirits strong enough to bear their burden, hearts pure enough to wield their power.
Across mountains and oceans, through storm and silence, the crimson, azure, gold, obsidian, jade, silver, and amethyst lights journeyed. And in that fateful hour, the world itself seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the awakening of the chosen.
The Seven Gifts flew like destiny itself, racing across the world in search of bodies capable of wielding their true potential.
The Crimson Gift—the ancient Gift of Dragons—answered first.
It tore through storm and sky, crossing mountains and battlefields, until it reached the house of Darian, the War Chief. There, it did not choose the hardened warrior nor the seasoned generals who had bathed in blood.
Instead, it chose his son.
The crimson light pierced the night and descended upon Reid, binding itself to him as its host. In that moment, dragonfire stirred within mortal flesh, and a power older than empires took root.
The heir of a war chief had been chosen.
And the world shifted.
Reid sat in his chamber, restless and silent. Beside him, Kael stood with arms crossed, his posture rigid like a man still on the battlefield. Both were sons of Darian, born to war, trained for it since childhood.
Yet neither had been allowed to fight.
Their father had lost the war.
And because of that single defeat, the Empire branded his bloodline failures. Reid and Kael were barred from the battlefield, denied steel, denied honor—not for lack of skill, but for the shame of their name.
They listened as others marched to glory while they remained behind, forced to survive in silence as the war unfolded without them. Not spared by mercy. Not saved by weakness.
Condemned by disgrace.
And in that quiet, burning injustice, something ancient stirred.
He didn't know he has been bounded with the Dragon fire of the great heavens, he felt lighter and stronger but didn't know why, Kael I'm feeling, stronger all of a sudden, Kael turn to Reid and reply, I don't understand you brother, what do you mean by feeling stronger? I don't know Kael but I also feel blurry.
At the same time, Jade moved.
The Gift of Unbreakable Flesh and Mystic of Serene Dominance felt Kael's presence from afar. It did not seek rage nor ambition, but balance—strength held in restraint, violence mastered rather than unleashed.
Through forest and stone, through silence older than kingdoms, the jade light found him.
It hovered before Kael, measuring not his fury, but his control. His discipline. His willingness to endure without breaking.
Then it chose.
Jade entered him without spectacle—no flame, no thunder. Only a quiet, immovable certainty settling into his bones.
Where Reid would burn, Kael would endure.
And thus, in the shadow of disgrace, two brothers were claimed by powers the Empire could not name—nor ever hope to command.
Reid I also feel stronger and I feel calmer, we need to find father probably it's our Vale bloodline acting out, okay Reid agreed but as they both moved their sight became really blurry and they both fell to the ground, powerlessly why the ancient power fused with their Bloods stirring their ancient bloodlines.
Two of the ancient powers have been claimed by the war chief sons .
*********
In his chamber, the King spoke softly into the still air.
"Come out of the shadows."
From nothingness, his secret guard emerged, stepping into the candlelight as though he had always been there. He bowed once and waited, silent, listening.
The King handed him a sealed message for Darian, asking for a private audience. He urged him not to be angered by all that had come to pass, and reminded him that the summons was not only from a ruler—but from a friend.
The guard vanished the moment the words were given, carrying the King's will into the night.
The Shadow Guard emerged within the Vale residence without a sound, moving through the halls like a passing thought. He found Darian alone in his chamber and reached out, intending only to announce his presence.
Instinct answered faster than reason.
In a blink, Darian seized the intruding hand, twisted, and slammed the guard to the floor, pinning him in place before steel or shadow could react.
"Enough," the guard said quickly, calm despite the pressure. "The King sent me. I bear a message for you, mighty warchief
Darian did not loosen his grip. His eyes, sharp as steel, bore into the guard.
"What does a king—who imprisoned me in my own home for speaking the truth—have to say now?" he demanded. "For the very truth I spoke, he placed me under house arrest. What intention could he possibly have this time?"
The Shadow Guard swallowed, feeling the weight of the War Chief's authority.
"Mighty War Chief," the guard said, forcing calm into his voice. He tried his best to sound true and neutral, lest he provoke the wrath of the man before him. "The King… he intends to speak to you again—as a friend. Like in the days when you both stood shoulder to shoulder in battle. The Emperor… he wishes to see you."
Darian's eyes bore into him, unyielding, as memories of loyalty and betrayal flickered in his mind. He said nothing, testing the truth behind the guard's carefully chosen words.
Darian finally loosened his grip, yet his presence filled the room like a storm held in stillness. A slow, deliberate smile curved his lips.
"Okay," he said, his voice calm but edged with authority. "Who am I to refuse the Emperor? Let us be on our way already."
The smile lingered longer than necessary—cold, knowing, and unnervingly sharp. It sent a chill down the Shadow Guard's spine, a reminder that while Darian agreed, he did so on his own terms.
The Shadow Guard nodded, his expression grave. Without a word, he melted into the darkness, gliding silently through the night. Darian followed, moving with the same lethal grace, their passage swift and unseen.
Together, they became shadows within shadows, crossing rooftops and alleys, leaving nothing but the faintest whisper of movement behind them. The night itself seemed to bend around their presence, holding its breath as the War Chief and the secret envoy made their way to the Emperor.