Deep beneath the obsidian flowers of the ruined capital, a single golden seed began to sprout. It wasn't fueled by the sun or the dark, but by the memory of a boy who chose to be neither.
A tamer's daughter walked by, picking up a shard of glass from the old Spire. She looked into it and didn't see a monster or a god. She saw a clear sky.
The Dominion had changed. The age of tamers was over. The age of the Soul was beginning.
[Volume 3: The Damru's Call — END]