To the false Dragon Murgraxis

I grew up beneath the Bloodwood's eaves.
Not in any literal sense-
Aint no one who could easily live with the restless weeping of them ghosts,
save the Keeper of them Woods-
but I grew beneath their shadow all the same.

The last of me mom's children, I alone was spared the horror of the final flight
from a home poison and twisted against them.
Though I never knew it then, until I heard the Keeper's tale,
my family lived in perpetual flight of that soul-destroying night
when the Aalen became the graveyard of my people.

So many died, so many Tsol'aa, so many people,
that decades of work from the Keeper and them who helped her aint prove enough
to ease the Wood's grieving. But there was hope - that though gorged on blood,
life again would blossom, and the ghosts, on seeing their home in verdant green
again, would finally rest.

You have stolen that from my people.
There aint nothing bad enough to wish you.
Death aint enough. I wish the very memory of you would burn from the world.
I aint have the power, but I curse you, may you die unremembered,
all you are, and all you were, forgotten forever.

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 9th of Lleian, in the year 504 MA.