The Kedera

Way back, before the war had even started; we blamed the Kedera religiously for anything and everything that went wrong. It may not have been true, but it was convenient. It didn't matter what might have happened, it was undeniably their fault. In times of pestilence, they were the afflicted; and they were the blight. In times of drought, they were the obstruction that had triggered the dam. In times of prosperity, they had to be bitter and therefore the threat.

Weirdly, after several years of constant fighting, that stopped. It became pointless to point fingers at them. It simply was what it was. That being: we hated them, and they hated us. Reiterating the fact perpetually served little purpose other than to remind us of our mutually miserable existence. We needed no reminder. Tragedies of war had become the norm. It made us apathetic and grim as a people. It was sad, and it was cruel. But it was life; our life; the ways things were... so to speak.