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Autumn is the inspiration for this set.

In the Fall one dreams of the harvest of first fruits, but in the Autumn of the year 4623s.a. on the plains of Nesopier the last fruits were harvested. This is the Song of Salgareth, one of only seventeen survivors.

The sky knows when death is coming.
It turns gray, drained of all the colour of a summer sky.
Even the clouds turn dark and smokey, heavy with memories
And the Heavens weep and the earth goes all soft awaiting the embrace of children she hardly knew,

The fury of the armies clashed on the plains.
What fury was this that drove men so?
I remember not.
The victors howl, the struck scream, the dying cry for mercy that will not come and the dead....the dead are silent.

I fall and press my face in the ground to hide.
I feel the pounding feet of thousands and the quaking fall of death.
My fingers claw mud and blood trying to hide in the ground, inside my mother.

Swords raised splitting the sky.
A shredded fragment of time carving out an eternal moment
Poised on the sharp edge between life and death.
Even without war, are we not so balanced?