Zephyir's situation in Tasar City grew increasingly dire as the relentless heat and lack of sustenance took their toll on him. Once a bustling metropolis, the city had been reduced to a desolate wasteland where only the most nightmarish creatures dared to roam during the day.
Dry sand filled the streets of Tasar City. Zombies never lurked in daylight. A few of the lowest kinds of demons patrol around the tallest building in the city. And animals like rats roamed around carrying the virus that can cause severe mutations.
Inside the dark room where he sought refuge, Zephyir's body was racked with pain. The injuries he had sustained in his encounter with the mutated human were severe, and his supernatural healing abilities were failing him.
The burning sensation in his body, combined with the unquenchable thirst, made each moment a struggle for survival.
'My right hand is injured, while my left got paralyzed.
'And I feel so thirsty…'