I grew up here, on these endless plains near the slithering river. It is a dry day, warm and breezy and full of sorrow. This land was meant to be the land of my children, the seat of power. That was before the magicians came and turned the plains to dust and ash, before they dyed the river crimson with the blood of my people. Now there is only suffering.

Prompt used: History altered by magic

New prompt: An underground labyrinth

The End

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