The noise began early in the morning in preparations and then warcries swords clashed, feet crunched over leaves the reds and oranges of autumn foreshadowed the heat and flame that would be brought on by no one else but the leader of the revolution the one who led them all into battle and won them the war his mind corrupted by the pressure of being so deep underground and the staircases winding through the caverns there was no exit no escape buttons covered the walls by the time the place was abandoned forever reminding him of his fate haunting him like the ghosts of the lives lost under his order and as the sun set over a new nation one “free” of “tyranny” it died as fast as it was born and he died exactly where he was born