Innis MacTeir stared out over the battlefield. This had once been fertile land. Fields from horizon to horizon. The breadbasket of his homeland.
Then the war came. The demons. The foul magics. The corpses ripped from the ground and made to serve an evil master.
That was before Innis had been born, but he had heard the tales. The defeat of the evil was supposed to bring everything back. Restore the land. Make it whole again. But it hadn’t.
The corruption lingered and showed no signs of waning. Here, in the Jewel Valley, the site of the final battle, it was the worst. Not a single thing grew for miles. The mages said even the insects and miniscule organisms in the soil were gone. They also said they saw no way to bring it back.
His lands were dying, producing barely enough to sustain what was left of his people. But here, the land was already dead. The curse of the evil as it fell, perhaps.
Innis would find what had blighted this place long ago. There was a secret waiting to be found. Even if the land cursed him as it had so many before, he would not leave this place without it.