The dawn that broke over the rugged, snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas did not bring the usual, radiant warmth of the morning sun. Inside the ancient, grand stone pavilion of the Yin-Yang Dragon Clan—a sacred temple hidden behind a massive wall of shifting mountain mists—the atmosphere was completely dead. The large copper incense burners stood cold, their coals extinguished, and the sacred geothermal water wells that had fed the clan's spiritual fire for five centuries had completely run dry, leaving behind only cracked mud and stone.
The ancient world where the Eastern Primordials could hide behind their mists and ignore the conflicts of the West was permanently buried.
Sitting in a rigid, terrified semi-circle on the traditional silk mats were twenty elder deities of the pure-blood d
