He was not destined to rule, nor to wear a crown, nor to build a palace, nor to gather a legion. Rather, he was destined to destroy something that had endured for thousands of years—something etched into the minds and souls of the beings of the Exalted Realm not by sword and blood, but by custom and tradition, by fear and sanctity. He was destined to be Divanor. The being that had emerged neither from light nor from darkness, but from a rift between the two—where falsehood and truth meet. What next step he did not yet know. He knew only this step was no longer merely a personal choice, but the first step of a transformation that would forever change the Exalted Realm. At that moment, a distant voice whispered in his "You cannot shed what you were born with… being a Prince of Paradion is part of your very being."