Blind South

I ran into people from the South, where they still fight over wood and flint and timber – great matters to them, but their words, their actions almost sparked me to anger. Did they not see who we fought? Did they not see the Withered and the Wraiths and the Corrupted as but the first symptoms of something far more terrible? Their eyes are filled with azoth – and in a terrible moment, it reminded me of the fire in the eyes of the Corrupted, the twisted red light that seemed to drive them to violence, that seemed to consume them. And I wondered if perhaps the Corruption and the azoth were both of the same well from which we drew.