Valerius soared through the night, the cold wind biting against his scarred wings as he took in the world of Terros beneath him. The landscape stretched out like a dark tapestry, full of secrets yet to be unraveled. As he flew, the stars above him twinkled faintly, their light barely reaching this forsaken land, and he couldn't help but notice how different it was from the shimmering brilliance of Aetheris.
Terros was a world of stone and shadow, its terrain rough and unforgiving. Jagged mountains rose like the teeth of some ancient beast, their peaks cutting into the sky with a fierce defiance. Valleys and forests sprawled between them, thick with trees that whispered and swayed as if alive with a consciousness of their own. The scent of pine and earth filled the air, but underneath it was something more—a lingering hint of magic, raw and untamed, that seemed to pulse from the very soil.
This place was old, Valerius realized. Older than he had first thought. The weight of history pressed down on him, an oppressive force that came not just from the land but from the countless souls that had lived, fought, and died here. He could feel their presence, a chorus of voices that hummed at the edge of his perception, their stories embedded in the rocks and trees like scars.
He flew lower, skimming just above the treetops, and caught sight of a village nestled in a valley below. It was a small, humble place, with smoke rising from thatched rooftops and narrow dirt paths winding between the houses. The people of Terros were hardy, he could tell that much from a single glance—farmers, hunters, and craftsmen who lived by the sweat of their brow, far removed from the grandeur and opulence of Aetheris.
Valerius circled the village once, taking note of its layout, the strategic placement of its wells and fields, the watchful eyes of its inhabitants as they gazed up at the sky, likely sensing his presence but unable to comprehend it. He could see the fear in their eyes, the way they huddled closer to their fires as if the flames could protect them from whatever unseen danger lurked in the night.
It was a world on edge, Valerius realized. The people of Terros lived in constant fear—of the elements, of the creatures that roamed the forests and mountains, and of forces they could neither see nor understand. Magic here was not the refined, controlled power of Aetheris; it was wild, unpredictable, and often feared.
He landed silently in a clearing just beyond the village, his wings folding against his back. The forest was dense around him, the trees thick with gnarled roots and twisted branches that seemed to reach for him as he walked. The ground was soft, covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves that muffled his steps, and the air was heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth.
Valerius moved with purpose, his senses heightened, every detail of the world around him sharp and clear. The magic of this place was unlike anything he had encountered before—primal, ancient, and deeply tied to the land itself. It hummed beneath his feet, a low, steady thrum that resonated through his bones. He could feel it in the air, in the trees, even in the stones that lay half-buried in the earth. It was as if the very essence of Terros was alive, watching him, waiting to see what he would do next.
As he walked, he noticed signs of life—small animals scurrying through the underbrush, the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves as something larger moved just out of sight. The forest was teeming with life, but it was also dangerous. He could sense the predators lurking in the shadows, creatures that were no doubt drawn to the dark magic that pulsed through this land.
Valerius paused at the edge of a stream, its waters dark and fast-moving as they wound their way through the forest. He knelt down, dipping his fingers into the water, and felt the coldness of it seep into his skin. Even the water here carried a trace of magic, a faint, almost bitter taste that spoke of the land's ancient history.
He stood, his gaze following the stream as it disappeared into the darkness. This world was a far cry from the one he had known, but there was power here—power that he could use. But first, he needed to understand it, to learn the rules of this place, to uncover its secrets.
Valerius closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses, letting the magic of Terros flow through him. It was chaotic, unrefined, but it was also potent, brimming with untapped potential. He could feel it in the earth beneath his feet, in the air he breathed, in the very stones that lay scattered across the forest floor.
This was a world where the lines between the mortal and the divine, the natural and the supernatural, were blurred. A world where magic was not a tool to be wielded, but a force to be reckoned with. And in this world, Valerius would carve out his place, find the power he needed to reclaim his destiny, and confront the forces that had cast him down.
As he opened his eyes, a cold, determined smile played across his lips. Terros was a world full of dangers, yes, but it was also full of opportunities. And Valerius had never been one to shy away from either.
He turned, his wings spreading as he prepared to take flight once more. The night was still young, and there was much more to explore. But already, he could feel the shape of this new world taking form in his mind—a world that would soon learn to fear the name of Valerius.
With a powerful leap, he launched himself into the air, the wind catching his wings as he soared above the forest. The night stretched out before him, dark and full of promise, and as he flew, Valerius couldn't help but feel that his journey had only just begun.