It was a dark and stormy night. A knock sounded from the huge doors of the monastery. When the monks came to see who it was, they only saw a dark figure retreating into the storm. At the foot of the door was an infant with gray-green skin, huge eyes, crying as it was soaked by the rain. In its forehead and in the backs of its palms were azure gemstones as blue as the light could be, gleaming in the night. The monks, not seeing anyone else outside, took the baby in to care for it. They couldn’t find the child’s parents, no matter who they asked, so they decided to raise it as one of their own, and to teach it the ways of the Church.
That was the story El’zoar Valgrith was always told, anyway.
El’zoar didn’t have much to complain about in his childhood, by any means he could come up with. He was well-fed and received schooling from the monks and scholars who were at the monastery (an opportunity few in Innago had, as his teachers weren’t loath to remind him of when he was behind on lessons). Even if it was a bit lonely being the only child at the monastery, he learned to make friends with the monks all the same.
As he grew older, and it became evident that he was one of the rare people attuned to azure Essen, they began to train him to channel Essen, as well, using the same azure gemstones embedded in his head and hands to channel the Essen. “A gift from the Father himself! May his will be done,” the monks would say. El’zoar learned to shape the Essen not only to read emotions and thoughts, but also to shape the world around him, warping others’ perception of his appearance and molding dirt and stone to his will.
Things continued like this for a while. El’zoar had the sense that he was being… prepared for something, but nobody seemed to be able to tell him what for. Until, one day, he woke in the dead of night to find his meager belongings packed in a bag at the foot of his bed. Next to it lay a set of pure white robes, fitted to him, along with a headband, foot, and hand wraps, in the same almost blinding pure white. He felt almost compelled to put them on. As he did, he heard a deep, calming voice emanate from the back of his mind.
“Hello. It is time to begin your work, my son.”
El’zoar knew there was only one person — no, being — it could be. The Father himself.
All of the monks were already outside his room when he opened the door, outlining a path to the huge doors of the monastery.. As he walked, the monks — his teachers, his friends — knelt before him, seemingly in deference. He walked on past them.
Somehow, he knew exactly where he needed to go. As he left the monastery, the whispers of the Father in the back of his mind explained his mission…