The aftermath was worse than the initial strike. Surviving HellSin envoys stumbled from the banquet, wounded and betrayed, only to find doors slammed shut and roads barred by former friends turned foes. Serpent rumors spread like wildfire, painting HellSin as cunning murderers who plotted to kill everyone at the summit. Frightened sects believed the Serpent narrative, refusing to hear HellSin pleas. They mobilized armies to hunt the clan down.
The records described frantic messengers, begging old friends to reconsider, only to be cut down by frightened guards. Secret alliances crumbled in hours. HellSin strongholds came under siege as neighbors they had once aided drew steel against them. Every attempt to clear their name was met with suspicion and violence.
The Serpents cleverly fanned the flames. From hidden corners, they whispered dark tales of HellSin treachery, feeding rage and paranoia. Soon, any who dared question the official story were ostracized or eliminated. Fear and anger blinded once-noble sects. HellSin had been condemned without trial, their legacy burned to ashes in the minds of the masses.
Lyrus' heart seethed. He could almost feel the despair of his ancestors as their proud legacy was twisted into a monstrous lie overnight.