The land cries out for rain.
The sun, once our benefactor, has grown hotter and stronger.
The world is on fire.
When a mage appeared who claimed to have the power to end the drought, the people vowed to give him what he asked.
We piled riches at his feet.
At nightfall, the ceremony would begin and then he would make his final request.
As drums kept time, the mage began to chant. People swayed in time to his words.
He made his final demand.
My daughter's blood soaked into the parched earth but no rain fell.
Kill the charlatan!