Nevermore

Centuries later, nothing remained to mark the area where so much death and destruction took place, the gravestones consumed by time. A whispering wind drifted again over the field, a wheat field now, tended by a farmer clueless of it's history. But some were not. The Man saw him coming, walk to the middle of the ancient field, and begin speaking words most thought lost to time. Suddenly, the ground began to shift, and the soft summer breeze turned icy and harsh, and the bones of the fallen soldiers began to rise.