The prophet lies in his prophecy laden nightmare. The prophetic visions of the south laid barren and black filling him with horror and dread. But his heart would break as he sees the desert sands red with blood and the coprses of his own people spread across the sands. But his pain at his loss was not to lessen, as they rise from the ground, a mindless shambling number of corpses rise from where they fell. Tears fall from his eyes onto his pillow. A vision of LArgen fills his mind, a brief light of hope. If his people lived he would send them to Largen.
As Jirah awakens from his slumber he looks to theh rising sun.
“Help me great lord to save my people, they are my heart and my soul. Without them I would be lost.”