"This world has a dire secret… you see, this secret drove us all to war. Even I, the god of peace, was not spared."
Lazarak's voice carried softly through the darkness, echoing in the unseen void around Damon.
"I was there when the first mortal was carved from the mud… I was there when they built their first huts… when they gathered and formed tribes."
He sounded almost wistful like an ancient being reminiscing over the birth of creation.
"Admittedly, I was there when the other lesser gods were born. There was so much life then everything was thriving."
Then his tone shifted, turning cold, shadowed by something darker.
"But petty disputes became violence. And I was there when the first mortal life was taken by another."
Even without seeing his face, Damon could feel the weight of Lazarak's sorrow. The air itself felt heavier, burdened by memories older than time.
