In the distance, shrouded in a veil, Opar was dimly visible - a city built from massive granite blocks, a city of precious stones. The contours of dense walls built from huge stones, soaring graceful towers, gilded domes, eight hundred and sixty years old, swayed, curved and disappeared into the air. Then everything disappeared, as if nothing had happened. Barely able to contain himself, Hadon wiped away his tears. The farewell picture of the illustrious Opar was like a vision fading in the divine consciousness. Hadon hoped this was not a sign from the devil. He hoped that the departure would have a similar effect on his friends and rivals. If he had been the only one with tears in his eyes, he would have been laughed at.