The Measure of the Magic

I make my way through this dead town,

Graveyard of husks and ruined frames.

Wrath of shadow's been brought down,

From carnage, the Legions don't refrain.

…

Here bodies of the fallen lie,

Faces in fear, pain and distress.

Would not have been good ways to die,

By the shadowlords this world's oppressed.

…

Short and narrow are the streets,

Along the paths, more bodies lie.

Dust carried on a bitter wind,

A touch of thunder in the sky.

…

Will rain remove the Shadow's sins?

Or shall the blood remain in soil?

Is this a fight Embra can win?

Or for naught is all our toil?

…

The smell of magic's in the air,

No joy left here, no sense of mirth.

If this is the fate of all Embra,

What of the fate of our world, Earth?