Do you hear it?

It resides in the desperate cries of the Mother, begging for aid. It has crept into the souls of the Noble Beasts, corrupting them.

I beg you my son, heed my words. There is great evil in our world. It has taken root in the very heart of our existence, destroying us from within.

Evil, son, it is in the heart of all things. Beware, for only the Light may stand against it; but even then, the resistance is tenuous at best. 

-Cry of the Last Druid.

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DeadLands, 7531 (Godless Era) G.E.

  His blackened tongue slid over his cracked lips, desperate to return some of their former moisture. His lifeless eyes scanned the endless wasteland before him. For three weeks he had wandered the DeadLands, praying to the Broken Gods, begging them to guide him to that which he sought. Yet, it had proven fruitless, his company had long ago succumbed to their weakness, and he would soon follow suite. But not yet, he knew he was close, the book would never have led him astray.  

  He moaned with growing desperation, and stumbled onwards. His blistered hands, clasped tightly around the hilt of his sword. The skin underneath his torn tunic was raw and festering, a result of countless days under the relentless sun. The DeadLands were vastly different from the rest of Evrand. Instead of a place teeming with life and exotic creatures, it was a realm of the dead. The earth was barren, rivers dried, and civilizations long since crumbled. It was truly a land without hope, and that was why he had come here. His father had long denied the existence of the book, but after he had done away with the old man, the book was finally his. Within the ancient leather, were the secrets he had desired for so many years.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Those secrets had led him here, in search of his one true desire. Power. That is why he stumbled on, pushing his ragged body through the desolate wasteland. He knew not where the power slumbered, but he was confident he would find it. Or it would find him. The calling had only grown stronger upon entering the forbidden DeadLands. It had grown so strong, it was nearly tangible. And on the other side, he could sense it’s raw power. Power he craved beyond anything in this mortal world. If he could just push himself a bit further, it could be his.

  Yet, fate was a cruel Goddess. His body was too weak, despite the strength of his will, he could not push on. Without so much as a sound, he collapsed. His throat was too dry to call for help, not that he would have. He was too strong willed to grovel at the feet of others, power was only earned by those who had the will to claim it. That is why he accepted his death wordlessly, he had proved to be too weak. He was not worthy of the book’s promised power. 

  Just as he resigned himself to his death, a strange feeling came upon his body. He felt as if he was floating, held in the arms of another. But he couldn’t be sure, he was alone, after all. Dying of dehydration, exhaustion, and overall weakness, under a relentless sun. Still, he clung to life, to the hope that he could somehow prove himself worthy. His mind drifted into an absolute darkness, a place without time or direction. He was sure he had died and been cursed for eternity, until his eyes opened when his body crashed against cold stone.

  Grime limited his vision, but did not prevent him from laying eyes on the decrepit creature before him. It's body was decaying and withering into nothingness. But that wasn't what caught his attention, no. It was the enormity of the power that emitted from the creature. After a long moment of silence, it spoke in a cruel, raspy voice. "Do you desire power?"

  His heart beat rapidly, his dreams were just in reach. All he had to do was force his ravaged throat to form the right word. With the last of his willpower, the word croaked from his lips. “Y-yes.” 

  The creature's voice rumbled across the empty DeadLands; in a deep, malevolent laugh. It's bottomless black eyes locked onto his broken body, "Good."