“From stone to scale, my wings are torn, A song of death do I sing. A curse to fear, a rite to mourn, Love not the pain I bring. Splendor to dust, my soul forlorn, We are your fallen kings. But now we die, to be reborn, When Daemons clip our wings.”   A silence gripped at mountains and sat upon great lakes, and it was a silence forged by man. The Descendants had made an enemy of nature itself and through years of culling and slaughter, man had won. Th