The Battle of the Fallen

Carnation's smell upon the air, roses all abloom,
waters running gently in the vast land of meadow's peace,
looking upon the darkened shadows, watch how they play;
This is the memoir of a castle's mighty reign.

Pictures hanging upon the walls stare into your eyes,
and glancing from the canvas view you understand their plight.
Minds are set to waste within an empty void
where dragons once flew high above the seas.
Knights found their places amongst the floor,
where they stood postured strongly, angrily: ready for war.

Down an enchanting hall lies a room filled by magic,
books tower high overhead in a dome of power, of wisdom.
Creatures unknown to the modern world exist here;
within a tale of ancient times, a cycle of endless glory.
Where a mystery still remains to those who have not heard the story
of a perilous fight that had once been entangled to my family.
Death to all but there lies breath within the breasts of undead monsters.
One hundred and one thousand years have come to pass
thus marks on a calendar read the night of the seventh thirteen.

The night death became entwined into life came upon the seventh thirteen;
when Fate approached hastily as a stormy cloud, treacherous, devastating.
Confused essences ran a muck-
unsure how to escape the blackened pit that would then consume them all.
Fear overcame every piece of existence;
every soul that flew across the sky was shattered,
all of their hearts were broken- "but by what?"
Once asked by a hunter of shadows, a seeker of bountiful pleasure.
"Who forced this pain upon the land known before as peaceful?
Who is the wind that blows through the trees, causing fear and agony?"

"Who is I."
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