One of the best known, and saddest, outcomes of the early Fae Wars was the flaming of the central plains in Icaria. The damage was so great that ballads are still sung about the carnage in lament. Only through the second age were humans able to return and begin to build anew from the battlefields of the early years of violence.
~.~
Beginning with the kiss of sky
The fertile plains grew never dry
They gave and they sustained the Fae
For time immemorial
The breezes, never angry sluiced
The rain from tempests, short and sweet
And on the face of plains did grow
The kindest flowers, the softest rows
But time cannot abide such love
And on the coast, a story grew
Of land, free land just to the east
Prepared and ripe for many feet
And so the humans, just arrived
Marched inland, quickly, east they strived
To find the fertile plains and start
New families, farms, and took the heart
Of course they found the plains had those
Who lived already in their halls
But this did not offend the men
They burned, they took, they stole, they fed
And one could ask, what you would do
If your homeland fell to new
Those who did not love her like
The way you had for all sweet time
And so the Fae, they fought the men
And children died, so did women
And in the blood soaked battle scars
Nothing grew, nothing at all
And when the fire finally died
The land, the wind forgot to cry
And in the center of the land
Grew death plains unfit for man
Where once the green and plenty grew
The dust and ash upwards flew
Until they too, settled soft
Upon all corpses, dead at last
Because what man and Fae found out
When all is said, and all light doused
That bodies look a lot the same
When taken up with blood and flame.
~.~
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