Many of the Dweorgs around Dayraven convulsed with weeping, and some tore at their hair or beards as they wailed. Such poignant grief. And what were they grieving? The end of one woman’s life? The reminder that such an end awaited each of them? The demise of their people? Lives begin and end. Kingdoms and peoples come and go. The world takes little notice as it pulses on in an endless cycle.
