Many fliers found posted to boards and drifting around the city of Vallakai.
Fingers to the bone
His flowers were tended
The gardener undefended,
By those that were nurtured
Poisoned instead
Stuck in his hand,
A thorn hung suspended
The pestilence coursed
It went first for his sight
His soul still bright
He asked them to see
Flowers ignorant
Wilting and alone,
Bathed only in night