Born in Fez, Zarak’s life was a crucible of contradictions. From youth, he bore both brilliance and rebellion, haunted by visions and trials that scarred his soul. Where others bowed to order, he turned to the edges of discipline and danger, walking streets lit with both wisdom and corruption. His dreadlocks, streaked with ash, tell of battles fought in body and spirit. The crimson glow of his eye is the mark of countless trials—pain endured, power wrestled from inner demons.
Zarak became the reflection of what society feared: ruthless, untamed, and commanding. Yet in the silent hours, in prayer and in whispered verses, he remained anchored to faith. His life is the paradox of fire and prayer—outward chaos masking inward submission. His rivalry with Euryeth is less hatred and more destiny: two paths, light and shadow, bound to test and refine each other. Where Euryeth stabilizes, Zarak disrupts; yet both serve the same divine balance.
Far from the sacred groves of the Ariphes, in the darkened depths of a realm long forgotten by those who sought the light, Zarak stood in the heart of his dominion. This place was not like the luminous, serene spaces where Euryeth roamed. Here, the air was thick with the scent of blood and decay, the sky a permanent shade of red, cast by the twin moons that loomed overhead like vengeful eyes. The land itself seemed to groan under the weight of the darkness that Zarak had woven into it, its twisted trees and jagged mountains standing as monuments to his power.
Zarak’s throne sat atop a towering black stone structure, carved from the bones of an ancient beast that had once roamed the forgotten realms. The throne room itself was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the faint red glow that pulsed from the ground beneath, as though the earth itself bled for the atrocities committed here.
He was not alone. Around him, shadows moved—creatures born from the darkness that he had unleashed upon the world. They were formless, shifting beings, their presence a constant reminder of the force that Zarak controlled. They whispered in tongues older than time, speaking of things long buried, of powers forgotten and hidden away.
Zarak, unlike Euryeth, did not dwell in the past. He did not allow himself to be consumed by the echoes of what had been. His mind was fixed on the future—on what he would become, and how he would reshape the Ariphes to his will. To him, the balance that Euryeth clung to was nothing more than a fragile illusion, a lie told to the weak to keep them from grasping the true power that lay within the shadows.
Zarak had always known that his power was not his own. He was an instrument, a vessel for something far greater. The shadows that surrounded him—the creatures that moved in the unseen places—had chosen him, just as they had chosen to oppose Euryeth. But where Euryeth sought to preserve the balance, Zarak sought to destroy it. He would not be bound by the rules of light and darkness, of creation and destruction. His vision was one of total dominance, of a world reshaped in his image—a world where the strong ruled and the weak were consumed.
Zarak had not been afraid. Fear was not something he allowed himself to feel. But he had listened. He had understood that this battle would not be like the others—that Euryeth, in all his wisdom, would not face him alone.
He knew that the forces he served had their own agenda, but he had never believed that he was merely a pawn in their game. He had always seen himself as a leader, a ruler, destined to reshape the world according to his vision. But the shadow’s words had planted a seed of doubt, one that he could not easily shake.
He stood there for a long time, staring out at the distant glow of the Ariphes, his mind turning over the possibilities. He knew that the battle was coming, and that Euryeth would bring all the power of the realms against him. But he also knew that the shadows would move against him, in ways that even he could not predict. The storm was coming, and when it did, Zarak would either rise to power or be consumed by the very forces he sought to control.

Expanded Backstory Paragraph:
Despite their tumultuous rivalry and contrasting philosophies, circumstances forced Zarak and Euryeth to unite against threats greater than either could face alone. Recognizing Euryeth’s wisdom and balance, Zarak formed a tenuous alliance, fighting alongside him while maintaining his own methods and moral code. Yet even as they shared victories, Zarak did not relinquish his darkness—his crimson-black aura, the crows that followed him, and the shadows under his command remained ever-present. He continued to commune with these shadows, mastering their whispers and harnessing their power, a constant reminder that while he fought for a common cause with Euryeth, he remained a sovereign of chaos, walking a razor’s edge between light and shadow.