Risen from the ashes amidst the blood-soaked field
The crops were lives, death and loss were the yield
She turns with her back to it amidst the sorrows past
It was foolish to think this lifestyle would have last
Friends called to her as they struggled yet to rise
"I am sorry," her words resounded as they echoed to skies
One by one they spoke to her yet her steps wavered not
Upon leaving the battle she saw what her decisions had wrought
Her head remained steady though in silence she began to pray
"I am afraid, my friends, the battle is over. It is better this way."



Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Miraman, in the year 824 AF.