The Gathering of the Four Clans"

Night had deepened, and the Valtieri mansion had become a stage of shadows and secrets. The grand hall, filled with flickering candles casting dances of light and darkness across the guests' faces, was prepared for a ceremony that would mark the destiny of the clans. Every word spoken there carried the force of an ancient oath and the weight of a curse passed down through generations.

Selene, her heart still heavy from the banquet that had introduced her to the world of adults, wore a dark garment that emphasized her fragile beauty and the aura of mystery surrounding her. Her eyes, long accustomed to bearing the weight of disdain and indifference, now prepared to face a new challenge: the Gathering of the Four Clans.

The hall's walls were adorned with tapestries telling stories of ancestral battles and blood-sealed pacts. The air vibrated with murmurs and expectations as the clan leaders arrived in order.

At Cassios Valtieri's side, who stood cold and imposing, came the representatives of the other clans:

Lady Morwen Akrathys, of the Ancestral Blood Clan, with a serpent's gaze and crimson robes that seemed to exude power.

Malrik Oroun, of the Ashen Clan, whose presence was marked by a threatening silence and features hardened by time.

Theron Vaern, of the Silent Blade Clan, with a stern expression and posture that radiated lethal discipline.

At the center of the hall, a black obsidian table reflected the stares of everyone present. The voices were whispered, yet each word seemed to echo with ancestral authority.

Cassios rose to speak, and the hall fell silent as if death itself had materialized:

> "Today, we gather to reaffirm the pacts that bind us and to recognize the strength of a bloodline long ignored. Selene Valtieri, my heir, is not only the future of the Eternal Bones Clan but the symbol of the continuity of our secrets. Let all present remember: darkness is our strength, and death, our ally."

Selene stood tall, but her gaze betrayed an inner storm. As the other clan leaders nodded with hard, calculating expressions, she felt the weight of expectations. Yet something in her eyes began to gleam with determination.

At that moment, a velvet yet cutting voice broke the silence.

> "And what of those who live on the edge of shadow—those who can silence the living?" asked Theron Vaern, his words directed especially at Selene.

She answered with an enigmatic but firm smile:

> "I've learned to hear what the dead whisper… and what the living try to hide. I didn't come to please, but to impose the truth that was left to me."

Their gazes met Dante's, who leaned quietly against a column at the back of the hall. His cold, piercing eyes never ceased observing Selene's every move. Years ago, he had been only a distant spectator. But now, with age and scars, his presence radiated an aura of danger and challenge.

> "Seems even frozen hearts can learn to feel," Dante murmured to himself, his tone a mix of irony and unrest.

Meanwhile, Lady Morwen, with a subtle smile, remarked:

> "How charming, to see the heiress mock her own fate. But tell me, Selene—do you truly believe you can turn the curse you bear into a weapon of power?"

Selene met the woman's gaze with such intensity it made the air vibrate.

> "A curse is merely a burden… or perhaps a blessing in disguise. It's up to me to decide whether it defines me—or whether I transcend it."

Murmurs grew louder, and the atmosphere turned electric. Then Malrik Oroun, whose voice seemed to rise from an abyss, intervened:

> "Pretty words. But blood does not lie. Prove to us, heiress, that you can command not only the spirits of the dead—but also those of your enemies."

Tension rose as Cassios smiled coldly, pleased with the spectacle. But Selene, moved by an ancient, fierce impulse, stepped forward. Her voice was low, yet clear:

> "Then I will prove I am not merely an echo of the shadows, but the roar that commands them."

At that moment, a commotion erupted in the corridors outside the hall. Guards entered, bringing a chained prisoner. The man, marked by dishonor, belonged to the Forgotten Dusk Clan. His name was Kael Dravon, and whispers claimed his lineage was stained by betrayal and shameful secrets.

> "Bring the prisoner!" Cassios ordered.

Selene stepped forward with determined steps. Her eyes fixed on the man as if to read every sin from his soul. He trembled, lips parted in a silent scream.

> "What is your name?" she demanded.

> "Kael Dravon, heir to a forgotten lineage," he answered in a trembling voice.

Selene raised an eyebrow, and silence deepened. With a swift gesture, she ordered:

> "Let your existence dissolve like the smoke of sins past."

In a movement both artistic and brutal, she summoned her necromantic power. A dark aura engulfed Kael, and he screamed as his strength drained, until his body became nothing but a pile of twisted flesh and bone, collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

Amid murmurs and horrified stares, Dante slowly moved toward Selene. His eyes shimmered with a mix of pride and envy. He drew near, but stopped before Theron, who raised his voice:

> "Be cautious, heir. So much thirst for power can consume even the most relentless soul."

Dante interrupted with a harsh tone:

> "She is our heir and will do what must be done. Nothing will stop her."

Selene looked at Dante, and for a brief moment, their gazes locked. Then she spoke in a steady voice, laden with repressed emotion:

> "Dante, you dare judge me without understanding the weight of the darkness I bear? Every word from you is a promise of damnation, and I… I choose to make hell my home."

He raised an eyebrow, defiant:

> "You speak as if you can command the fate of the clans. But fate is not made of words, Selene. It is made of blood—of sacrifice."

> "So be it!" she retorted, stepping forward. "I swear I'll drag Dante into hell with me if I must. Let the world see my fury is not meant to be contained—but embraced."

The clans watched in silence. Lady Morwen tilted her head, appreciating the young woman's boldness, while Malrik and Theron exchanged thoughtful glances. The air was heavy with tension and discord.

In the meantime, the prisoner was already forgotten. All that remained was the echo of Selene's power. Inside her, she felt a fire fed by every silenced scream, by every look of disgust and awe. And then, the gathering continued as new faces emerged from the shadows.

Among them, a man with striking features and an inquisitive gaze approached Selene. His name was Lucian, an emissary of a newly risen clan, his intentions as enigmatic as his origins. He spoke in a soft voice, yet one filled with promise:

> "Heir, your deeds already echo like legends. But tell me—how far are you willing to go to prove you are more than a curse?"

Selene met his eyes with a cold stare.

> "I'm not here to prove anything to you, Lucian. I'm here to mark history. If that history must be written in sacrifice—so be it. My fate is forged in the fire of darkness, and nothing, not even the scorn of the clans, will change that."

Lucian smiled, admiring her resolve but offering no opposition.

As the gathering neared its end, whispers turned into declarations and veiled threats. Each clan sketched its plans, but all knew that Selene was the central point of this new era of darkness. Dante, in silence, followed every word with a disturbing glint in his eyes.

Finally, Cassios rose once more and declared the gathering over. The guests dispersed, taking with them the tension of a pact sealed with blood and sharpened words.

Selene remained alone for a few moments in the center of the hall. Her eyes wandered across the walls, absorbing every shadow, every echo of power that dwelled there. She felt the weight of responsibility—but also the promise of...

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