"But in a world infested with Dragon, those humans without scars of fire upon body or heart- those are rare.
So, why now, would arsonists bring deliberate flames and the scars that follow where there are much of fiery dreads already? Was this not testimony that men were at war with their fellow kin, even where common death-bringers as ruthless beasts did exist?"
~
The Village of Lyrishveil,
Kingdom of Tristendyre,
The first Phrinight of the Second month,
XXI Year of Regency
Lady Minerva had not understood the need for Aldric's eldritch horror until the carriage had turned, being veered in line with the curve of the road and found the Village ablaze with smoke and fire ascending to the very heavens carrying the breaths of its mortalised victims.
There was chaos that reigned over the calamity, where every human had become either a salvager or loser of lives and loved ones.
