As night descended upon the mortal realm, specifically the vast desert where the Daryen Valley's civilisation slumbered, Hesuas materialized. The transition from the divine realm to the earthly plane was not a journey but a dissolution and reconstruction of divine essence.
The desert night was alive—not with silence, but with a symphony of subtle movements.
A small herd of scorpions, their exoskeletons glinting like obsidian under starlight, existed in a delicate ecosystem of survival. As Hesuas walked among them, these creatures—normally territorial and aggressive—parted like living liquid, recognizing a power far beyond their comprehension.
Near a fire that burned with unnatural steadiness, a man sat.
Seven feet of raw, primal presence, his skin was a landscape of cracks and fissures, telling stories of battles fought in realms beyond mortal understanding.
Daurgien—a name that carried the weight of raw, unfiltered power.
He did not rise.
