War (1)

A bloodied dagger would tell a tale,

Of a time so distant of war and shame,

Where blood was as water, clear and plain,

Where disaster, our master was all that remained.

Standing firmly, in front of a small army was a striking woman. Her hair was wild and curly covering part of her face and her eyes had an amused glint in them. 

"Where did you hear that poem?"

The woman next to her asked, she seemed rather intrigued by the poem.

"It was a short poem composed by one of the Elders, an elder phantom that suffered through he cleansing."

The woman furrowed her brows, the mention of the cleansing was enough to put anyone in a bad mood. The most revered warriors, seers and healers in the phantom continent were wiped out and systematically hunted for years.