Bevin Earthloch Sonora gently glided on the foliaged ground with the calm of a mastiff, the grace of a feline, and the speed of an eagle.

Yet his inner state was anything but gentle.

‘Fallacy! T-This cannot be allowed to happen!’

The man, always so derisive, as if others were nothing but pebbles beneath his feet, felt his mind go red with fury and disappointment.

‘Our princess cannot be permitted to marry some low-blood whelp. We cannot leave the future of the clan mingled with such utter farmhands!’

At first, when he had heard of this preposterous decision a cycle ago, he was only a little indignant.

Yet since he was an Elder with a responsible heart, seeking only the best for the clan, Bevin used his status as the Elder of the Sonora house to try and persuade his blood aunt, the Grand Shamanka, to call off such a ludicrous betrothal. He had even personally visited her a few times throughout the past few seasons.

His own house had a far better candidate. His blood grandson was unparalleled in the talent of the blazing rivers, a true supreme of both water and fire!

Who else but he was worthy of being the prince consort and lead the clan towards progress? In fact, from the words he had gleaned from Elder Croneira’s disciples, it was the princess who was undeserving of his grandson.

Like what was so common with weak blooded, manna starved servants, the girl had almost died at birth.

But he could overlook that. She was, after all, the chieftain’s only daughter. And besides, it would be her honour to sire a stronger Earthloch child with his grandson. For such a weak princess, what better way was there to contribute to the clan?

For their own family’s heir, too, he would have the boy take a concubine with higher talent than that Agwyn Cyra Earthloch. Preferably a graceful dame from the Yuriel Impelakty practising the [Nephilim Birth] cultivation technique.

It would kill three fliers with one pebble. Bring the Earthloch main house and their own Palaikt family closer together, forge stronger bonds with the scholars of the Yuriels, and ultimately, keep a Sonora heir who would be stronger than the main house’s.

Bevin was assured that it was the lakes themselves who had planted such a flawless, unassailable master plan in his head.

The two future heirs of the Palaikty and Siorrakty families would be blood siblings. What bond could be closer? It would be the perfect gateway to revolutionize the entire clan from within, discard those laughable old practices and embrace true modernity.

So he had tried to let his stubborn old aunt witness his grand vision with logical reasoning, fate given proof, and lettered deductions.

All he got in return was a severe beating he had not experienced since his own father was the Palaikt.

Bevin almost vomited blood just remembering that event.

His heart swelled with discontent at how blind every single one of the three leaders was.

That is, until today.

When Bevin laid his eyes upon the princess for the first time during this late noon, he had nearly fainted in shock. He wanted to immediately punish those lying disciples of Elder Croneira!

How dare they mislead him so? Almost died during birth? Her?

What high deception, Croneira Gellen Earthloch, and remarkably well played.

It was as if the spirits had moulded the little girl themselves, sculpting all the superlative qualities of Dhionne and Faediaga into one tiny body.

Was she a supreme? No, her various cultivation roots didn’t appear so profoundly unique in his Totem, the [Crimson Tears of the Thousand Eyes], not like his grandson’s. He had seen the departed Stormfelt’s heir too. That boys’ shadows alone convinced him why the last circle was considered nothing but a stick and vine blockade to supreme talents.

No. All of the princess’s many roots were merely the best, excluding supremes. But couple that with the sheer number of cultivation roots she possessed, and it painted an altogether different picture.

According to the storytellers, the Earthloch founder was precisely like the princess, and hadn’t he easily broken through the last circle easily?

Bevin realized he was such a fool! How could he claim to his aunt that the princess was less in talent? No wonder she was so infuriated.

Then Bevin laid his eyes upon the prince consort, and thunder clapped in his ears.

‘Simply despicable!’

What manner of trickery did the newly named Siaglas use to engage their dreg of a son to the princess?

Bevin all told scrapped his previous plan and started constructing a finer one with the remains.

If a mere servant family could trick their way up to Reanakt, then he could do better. And he would not even need trickery, only educated calculations.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The events after midnight both solidified his resolve and enlightened him with the last clue to perfect his new and improved proposal.

The princess had received the gifts of all but one of their hundred thousand great lake spirits. She single-handedly called down enough manna to trigger the collapse.

‘Spirits bless my aunt’s rigid mind. She cannot still have the faulty judgement to uphold the princess’s marriage with a low-blooded now, can she?’

Bevin hastened his pace, pumping more manna into his back and legs.

The Grand Elder was a speck in the sky by now, descending upon the top of Loch Sagathan Temple by flight. The Grand Shamanka had also flown her way up immediately after the tides ended.

‘Grimes of Gheists!’

Sometimes, he, too, could not help but feel how unfair sky realmers were. He knew his own talent, and breaking the seventh circle to the sky in his lifetime would be as difficult as scaling the disc on foot as a mortal.

Yet that was hierarchy, something he respected with his life.

Bevin reached out to the legacy of the great spirit of Loch Sonora, the Redcloud Surfer in his ichoric chamber, and let the overwhelming oceanic manna guide his movements.

The world sped up around him, and the star lights morphed into straight bands of fire. Even the smells and sounds of nature dimmed and distorted until nothing but the scorching winds remained.

Bevin jumped with all the momentum he had mastered, and the moons in the sky seem to move closer.

There were a few seconds of tranquil silence. Only in moments like these could he truly be alone with his thoughts.

He took the respite to tidy up any loose ends of his plan, and when he was at last satisfied, his feet once again touched the ground.

The dust clouded up around the spot where he landed. He punched the stone foundation of the temple gates to dissipate the momentum.

Yet he was intricate in his arts, and not even a pebble of the ruined gate was further damaged.

By the time he stood up straight with the confidence oozing from his body, a series of thumps had thudded behind him.

His brothers in arms, the enlightened of the letters, and the lords of the western lakes had followed him to support his just cause.

Bevin could not stop, his mouth curling up into an earnest smile. He would not betray their trust.

‘Those eastern lake savages claim we follow the words of the Yuriel scholars blindly.’ Bevin changed his gait into that of Elder Sonora’s, and his smile reformed into something loftier.

‘So let us prove them wrong.’

He knew very well that a decision carried out by the Grand Elder, the Grand Shamanka, and the Chieftain would never be reversed in ordinary times.

But the times would be anything but ordinary come sunrise. The collapse would force the clan to progress forward without a halt in steps, or perish!

Hence, the decision could be altered slightly, rather than abjured. If the three leaders indeed had the clan’s future in their hearts, they wouldn’t mind adding a few passages to the betrothal scroll of the princess, would they?

The smile on his face stretched bigger. He realized that simple progress was not adequate.

It also had to be unique.

‘The Yuriels say a man of power must have more than one mate, and a woman of faith must share her powerful man with many sisters.’

‘The blood of the strong must pass down, and the blood of the weak must be eliminated. Women are to be admired like our great manna-rioghs. They sacrifice their body and cultivate hard to sire more talented offspring. Only the strongest of men are worthy of owning a woman’s womb. Or else it would be unfair to the clan sister and daughters. What if the circumstances drove her to sire a child with an untalented waste? How bleak would such a future be?’

Elder Sonora had always found logic in those scholarly words. He had even urged his own daughter to take up the Yuriel method for female cultivation. At first, she was indignant, as most women of Earthlochs tend to be.

But in the end, she had seen her father’s care and agreed to sire a child with one Yuriel Palaikt. Of course, she would never be the principal wife. She would suffer a bit, but her sacrifice had now paid off.

The best part was, those Yuriel nobles will never know what they missed.

Elder Sonora’s daughter had unexpectedly returned to the clan six cycles ago, crying, “They called me a sow, honoured father. That I sold my chastity to steal Yuriel bloodlines! I would rather die than give my body to that viper again!”

Elder Sonora had lamented seeing her anguished visage. Perhaps compelling his Earthloch bred daughter to live the lifestyle of the Impelakty was an incorrect decision?

He immediately threw that thought away when his grandson was birthed.

No, he slightly changed that thought. As he would change the leaders’ decisions from now on.

His grandson was all the proof he needed.

‘Such elegance, like the mythical phoenix! Such blazing blood, like the summer Sohwl! Such eminent spirit, like a sea of lava!’

The boy had both vindicated his choice of adhering to the Yuriel’s scholarly methods and planted a seed of doubt in his mind towards how the Yuriel nobles themselves handled their own ideology.

After all, they had failed in making his daughter a part of their clan.

It simply meant that the Yuriels were the untalented party in the marriage. It was a fortune on a stormy day that his pregnant daughter had the foresight to travel back home, despite the thousands of kilometres of treacherous paths separating the two dominions.

Indeed, women were not to be underestimated. He vowed to conduct himself hereafter and to never show any unjust disdain towards them again.

‘Because,’

Elder Sonora strode forward, pride singing in his every footstep. His smile didn’t dwindle in the slightest when he neared the chieftain, who sat cross-legged on the rubbled ground in front of the ruined gates.

‘We are not the Yuriels!’

Elder Sonora stared down at the burly man. The discrepancy of power between them became apparent at a glance. Even the nervous chattering of the crowd, the stink of worry and uncertainty of the dhionne could not take away the pride in the burly man’s might.

The chieftain loomed over everyone and everything in the vicinity, even though he was sitting down with eyes closed. No one, not even the reckless Palaikt Sabhalan or he himself, would dare to ignore him and walk around the dilapidated gate pillars to the place where the chieftainess stood, alongside that low-blooded Siaglas deceiver.

But power mattered not right now.

His plan was one that would take time and effort. Planting a seed in the chief’s mind did not require him to be stronger, only wiser.

Elder Sonora steadied his composure, reigning in the pride and surfacing his deference. Because untamed pride was a manifestation of regressive customs. And,

‘We are Earthlochs! We are the most progressive.’

Bromwyn opened his eyes. Those giant lilac swirls held a promise of brutality and retribution. Elder Sonora knew that the chieftain had not the greatest of opinions about himself. Mainly because of unfortunate past events.

But this time, it would be different. Elder Sonora replayed the princess’s blessed deeds and his own daughter’s bravery in his mind. They favoured him with power, and he would from now strive to repay all of them a hundredfold!

‘We will let our women, too, become the owners of many manna-rioghs!!’

They would swim through the collapse that is to come, unharmed under the leadership of the princess. She would unify all talented houses with the vow of marriage, and the Earthlochs would become the greatest clan on the disc.