I wouldn't have thought in a million years that the world would have laid on the fault of one mortal dragon, and never that it would have stolen the lives of a million. No matter what history will be written as, whether it be physically or told to the generations after, there isn't a thing that could throw this away. Remembering the day pass by after the final cry was gold, but only in its small quantities as dirt covered the victories.

The flowers graced my form, and the stone arches stood tall and recognizable. They were where the nomad first arrived. Entail were his basket of trade and horses; carrying the wooden cart fit for three humans at most. How I know this now is almost odd, as before, the humans were to shoot at me. Before this moment, I had never uttered a word unless it was to the other creators, my disciples. Neither do I regret coming to write this.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Unlike many days ago, the sky no longer glares. The red is gone and was replaced with the old blue. I find nothing wrong with that. Red was not a natural color until evil was placed into this world. There was green and white, and that was meant to be only green and white. As Cathenia corrupted itself, the world became bright and neon. I do not accept it, but what is there to do?

Not only is it too late to change it, but it seems color was not a bad thing. My sight was grey and white, and black became red, and then green.  To believe I have hate of this change is a lie. He who stumbles upon my words must know that I do not hate. It is not possible, as love is the beginning, and love is the end.