The king sent his men to pillage the kingdom. He made the people his slaves. There was no rest, no break, no calm, only a storm. He cut down the trees he could and burned the ones he couldn't. The once white snowcaps turning gray from ash. Water levels rose from the melting snow and water ran through the road. It mixed with the ash, the dirt and feces then overflowed into the wells and the drinking water.
The kingdom cried for mercy, for any way they could survive. However the new king didn't relent. He his queen in this war as well and blamed the southern people. He cursed their very being and the pleas only made him worse.

There was no hope for this kingdom. How ever the children never gave up hope. They still played, sang and danced. They prayed and believed in their fantasy that they would grow up.