As Zalzor trudged up one of the many unnamed hills of the Graze Lands, he panted with each step. Sweat poured off his brow as the bright, mid-day sun beat down on him. Today was a hot and dry day, which meant that tomorrow would likely bring a thunderstorm. Throughout the time Zalzor had spent traveling the region, he’d learned to predict such patterns. Of course, the fact that the Graze Lands only had two weather patterns greatly aided his forecasting ability. It was always hot and dry or else a downpour. And whenever it rained, thunder and lightning also made their presence felt. Either weather pattern was ideal for Graze Land wildlife. The trouble was that downpours and heat did nothing for Zalzor. When his skin wasn’t parched and his throat drier than sand (as it was now), he was soaked to the bone and praying he wouldn’t get struck by one of many brilliant flashes of lightning.
Aside from the weather, the tall grasses of the Graze Lands had been another hindrance. Spreading over hundreds of square miles, the annoying blades had poked his legs with every step. More importantly, the grass provided ideal shelter for predators, which, at any moment, could leap out to make a meal of him.
Thus far, he’d been fortunate.
To his great delight, however, the end of his mission was in sight at the top of the hill. He’d traveled all the way across the continent of Onaris for one reason, for one, important purpose: to dispose of an evil so vast, so despicable, that he knew its presence could never again touch the surface of Estrania. The evil he was battling was within himself. It had infected his brain long ago, and had since utterly ravaged his perception of time: he couldn't even remember when it had started. Try as he might, even with his mastery of mystic energy, he hadn’t been able to free himself of the evil. If anything, it had only grown stronger, angrier.
Zalzor had never been one to believe in any sort of Supreme Being. Like other Demigods, the only thing he worshiped was knowledge, science, and those things which could be proven through experimentation. Magic was, in his opinion, a combination of all three. However, since he’d come face to face with this remarkable evil that he could neither surmount nor understand, he now had a firm conviction that there was at least a malignant supreme being.
Its voice grated through his head like two stones grinding together. It compelled him to commit vile acts and haunted his every waking moment. In fact, even his dreams were tormented by ghoulish, unspeakable visions. He was lucky to even sleep for a few hours a night.