I decimated the land; razed its mountains to the ground, burned the very foundations of their culture. There was nothing, only ash in heaps like a black desert.

When my king sent men to salt the ground, I wept. I had fought so hard to liberate the countryside for my people, but my people would not be able to use it. Tears flooded the dips of the ashen dunes, muddled with the blood of 3 dozen soldier's heads skewered on pikes, encircling the area. Not even the buzzards dared to feast upon them.

In time, the ashes were disturbed by a new tribe of man. They woke from beneath the earth and drank from the rivers of my ire to quench their charred and parched throats. Then they inhaled life, the winds of change filling them with curiosity and adventure. They began to stand and to walk about the scarred landscape. They learned to speak with each other and together they cried, for theirs was a doomed fate.

Pitty imbedded itself in my heart, and sprouted a tree of fruit from which I had power to pluck. I gave it to them, and taught them to open it. They learned to eat of its flesh, and to propagate its seeds, so that their children might taste it one day too. The Ire Rivers, as they would be called by man, flourished with life. They knew bountiful harvest from soil laden with the nourishing silt of forgotten lives. They knew peace everlasting, protected by the daunting Pillars of Loyal Fallicy. The heads were now perrified in the wood of wreathes once placed upon them. They are now a ring of wide trees that bare the haunting look of fear the soldier's wore that dreadful day. Not even the bravest of raiders cross the threshold of their roots.

I watch them, playing, growing, dying. They live short lives, but filled with eternal joy. Nestled in their pocket of peace, they thrived as a society and advanced. The once harsh air was now enjoyed by many for its sweet floral fragrance, and the water once salty with tears was now fresh with life and ecosystems. My sword, once plunged into the ground in triumphant victory on a battlefield of fire and flesh, now stood tall in the center of their city. When threats would emerge, I would come down from the heavens to take up the blade in their defense. Dragons, liches, falling stars, all bested to protect them.

And they worship me as their god. They pray and make rituals, thinking I will hear them better. I hear them. I cannot give them what they ask, but for as long as my wits are sharp, and my hand unbound, I will ensure their livelyhood no matter the cost.