Verdant lives still,
at the sight and sound,
of Fire's foreign trappings. It's Red and Gold robes,
it's monumental splendor,
it's deadly majesty.
Forced to dine,
on this tapestry of vibrant life.
A coup de etat, a quick moment of weakness,
all consuming greed,
and it's gone,
all of it,
That forest, that fortress of sylvan shadows,
that bastion of plant and animal life.
No safeguards, no secrets of longevity, in magic or medicine,
could save it from.
Fire,
energy in it's near to purest form.
It will accept no ransom, no royal treasure,
in exchange for it's feast.
Without boundaries, without limits, fire is a ravening wolf,
falling on any hapless prey, that falls across it's path.
It drops it's pretense of a warm, watchful defender, a goodwill ambassador,
and devours life.
