The Preacher of Agaduun

No child in Agaduun was a stranger to the corruption and depravity of the Gods. Never spoken of aloud, the stories lived their secret life in the murmurs and whispers of dark houses at nighttime, in the hollows and in the woods, the secret playgrounds, and were well known to everyone.

I spent the journey to Hamzaran in quiet despondency, not speaking a word and refusing food and drink.

The last twenty miles of the way led us through the cursed forest of Hamzaran, where the High Priest kept the terrors at bay only with difficulty. When we had reached the dead city of Hamzaran at the foot of the mountain range, they made me eat a small meal and then turned back into the forest, leaving me alone in the wasteland at the outskirts of the abandoned city. Only one rider remained behind at the edge of the forest, watching me intently for two hours. Then he mounted his horse and sped away into the forest, following the others, after setting the forest ablaze.

This is to teach you that the closer you get to the divine, the more forlorn you will be.