PART I

THE UNHEALED

The land bristles shadow and shrugs off the sun

Frail voices sing beneath the wind

It all ends soon

In health, courage comes easily

Death is still a dream

But I watch now

I see the true heroes

Stagger up on shaking limbs

And face what must be faced

Unhealed

—ANONYMOUS VIRGENYAN POET

Iery cledief derny

Faiver mereu-mem.

Even a broken sword has an edge.

—LIERISH PROVERB