What We Give
The scents of smoke and charred flesh carry on the wind from where the Plains of Aslinea still burn. If I listen closely, strain to hear, I might make out the sounds of the last remaining skirmishes. Those fought by the few among our soldiers who have not yet realised that our leader has fallen. Or those who are lost in the ecstasy of this realm. Or who the humans are not allowing escape.
The battlefield is far away, though, and straining for such trivialities would be a wasted effort. I don’t have the strength to spare anymore, not after my recent bought of insanity.
