Death level
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The world ended not with a bang, but with a whisper from the Dominion. A single order: fulfill your role-or die. Across the ruined lands, scattered clans survive-each descended from elemental roots, each wielding powers twisted by evolution. The Tideborn command the seas. The Aetherwalkers bend light. The Verdant Kin speak to the land itself. The Emberclan wields flame. And others... have grown stranger still. But under the Dominion's rule, power is not freedom. It's a leash. A spark ignites in the dark: the Order,a group of rebels and survivors. Magic is a thread. Break it, and the world might bleed. This is the story of the ones who chose to bleed.

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