[ WP ] Write an entry for a history book about an event in a fictional world - all top level comments in this prompt take place in the same world , so make them all fit together .

Queltic History: Volume 7 
 
 Chapter 12 
 
 The End of the Line. 
 
 It's difficult to imagine now, with the returned fecundity of the plains, the crystalline-blue flowing water of the countless rivers and streams of the Iron Spine Ridge, and the impenetrable green wall of coniferous and deciduous forests that crowd the knotted roads and caravan trails of the New Country, but anyone with a shovel can pierce the illusion of timeless calm easily. 
 
 One or two grainy twists with a mattock more than enough to expose a thick grey-black line in the sediment a hands' breadth beneath the grass. Here, we see the reality. 
 
 The forests are all young. None of them are older than seventy years. The grasslands, for all their rippling emerald beauty in the wind, used to be a riot of color, with wildflowers of every description. There are precious few now, the topsoil having been sterilized by unbelievable heat of the Last Word. Now, there is only the pervasive sameness of canegrass and crops. 
 
 Astonishingly, the canegrass was once considered a'weed'. ( `` Weed'' is a word that refers to the archaic idea of'unwanted plant'. Ask your instructor for a copy of the supplied lexicon defining words like this, if you have not read them before ) 
 
 Now, during it's brief blooming season, where the waist-high swaying fronds are capped with tiny blue-white flowers, it is celebrated, as a reminder of what once was, and we remember the name of the farmer who had accidentally included a few of its downy-tufted seeds in with his wheat-stock. 
 
 There are few objects remaining from before the Last Word. Most were carved stone or metal, or the Obsidian Palace, whose individual blocks were fused into a seamless whole, while the brief but unbelievably powerful windstorm splashed the molten facade into the air, like a surf-crested wave breaking against the rocks, frozen in time. 
 
 No books survived. 
 
 No paintings, or tapestries. This was why man's share of the Great Work principally concerned the carving of tablets designed to preserve knowledge of history, mathematics, horticulture and engineering. 
 
 As you know, the lineage of man was a deliberate sacrifice, demanded by the Dragons, and, as they were sacrificing *themselves*, we were in no position to refuse. They were sparing us from the poisoned fruits of the seeds sown during an unbroken two thousand years of war, but in return, they wanted something that would ensure that the past would not repeat itself. 
 
 This is why we know the names of kings, but not their appearance. We know their kingdoms, but not their sons and daughters, and none know their personal country of origin. None can claim rule over another by right of blood. While the newest generations do not mind the loss, the elders, ( such as they are ), often grieve at the loss. 
 
 This sacrifice was called the End of the Line. 
 
 There is a stone tablet, carved of basalt, at the epicenter of the Great Work which flash-seared the choking smoke from the sky, heating so hard and so fast the soot fell like snow, parting the death-shroud our skies had become. Cooking the forests. Blasting the desert to hardened slag. Boiling away three meters of ocean. The Great Work, which showed us the kindling point of a soul. 
 
 The slab is the only remaining twinkling of magic in the world, for all can read it, whether or not they are lettered, or which language they awoke speaking, from the crystalline cocoon shelters deep beneath the waves. 
 
 It says: 
 
 *KNOW THIS, YOU GATHERED HERE, YOU ARE THE LAST OF THE WISE. WE BURNED OURSELVES IN PENANCE, FOR OUR HAND IN THE DESOLATION OF OUR WORLD, SO THAT LIFE MAY START ANEW. AND OURS WAS THE LESSER BURDEN TO BEAR. 
 
 FOR YOU MUST BE STEWARDS OF LIFE BEGUN ANEW. TEND TO THE GREENING TENDER STALKS. NURTURE THEM, AND GROW. FORGET THE KINGS OF OLD, THE NATIONS IN THEIR PETTINESS. THE WORLD IS YOUR KINGDOM. THE SUN, RETURNED TO YOU BY OUR BLOOD, IS YOUR KING. 
 
 DO THIS, AND DO NOT EVER RETURN TO THE OLD WAYS OF THE INDUSTRY OF WAR... 
 
... FOR THERE ARE NO MORE DRAGONS TO KILL. * 
 
 This is the reason why we preserve our bloody history, why we learn it over and over. It is the reason for this book, and the volumes before it. If we forget, or fail, we have no more second chances. 
 
 ______________________________________________________________________________________ 
 
 EPILOGUE: 
 
 It ties to [ r/HoneypuffCereal's ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3qc0sn/wp_write_an_entry_for_a_history_book_about_an/cwdxsjj ) entry. Had n't seen any others before I started typing, so, sorry.: P 
 
 Hey! Did you know I have a [ subreddit?! ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/ ) *It's true! * 
 
 
 

