I once dreamt the whole world was ablaze. Pestilence rode his sickly horse, plaguing those below; Famine, astride a mere skeleton, starved his victims. War, upon a red, armoured stallion cast a spell of wrath on men who then turned on each other like rabid dogs. Death, black cloak billowing in the wind, scythe in perfect condition and white horse proud, swooped down one by one and severed life from the bodies of men.

I could but watch, not human or even alive. I was a scarecrow, guarding the feilds of the men I witnessed perish. And as the flames caught my straw, I too perished.