This was once a place of ethereal beauty, but now it rots. It lies broken and in disrepair. Nothing is as it was when the Queen reigned here. When she was here the lands were tended, the waters flowed and the grounds were kept pristine. But we have lost sight of that. The sword resides where the heart should be, and grief holds us within its unshakable grip. At times righteous anger flares so hot. Flames on the side of my face –breathing, heaving breaths... I apologize. I almost lost myself within it. I am trying to say Love cannot be left to decay. Will you help to reseed the grounds?