He lifted the token, hands shaking. “T-This is the Flaxseed clan leader’s badge,” stammered. “Legend says only the clan leader could possess it, yet here it is!”

Jared unrolled the beast skin. The archaic script fought his eyes, but his studies in dead languages let  scrape together the gist.

It told of the Abyss of Fallen Demons, once a battlefield where humans and fiends butchered each other, the ground so soaked with death that a master rune-smith later caged the fallen horrors deep below, giving the chasm its name. That artificer, the scroll revealed, had been the ancestors of the Flaxseed clan.

“So your ancestor was a charm master from the elder days!” Jared looked up, wonder edging his voice. “The scroll says poured out his life sealing the Abyss of Fallen Demons, hiding part of his legacy somewhere inside it so his descendants could one day strengthen the barrier and guard the Nine Serpent Mountain.”

Suddenly, Jared understood why Flaxseed’s charm spells had always felt so deft, the talent ran in his blood.

Eyes burning, Flaxseed stared at the script.

“So we were never ordinary,” whispered. “If the Flaxseed clan achieved such greatness, how did we end up wiped out?”