The air still burned.
Even after the battle had ended, the ruins breathed heat — a slow, suffocating rhythm that made it hard to tell if the world was alive or simply dying slower than they were.
Hooves clattered against broken stone as three riders emerged from the fading mist. Elena pulled her hood lower, shielding her face from the ash-laced wind. Beside her, Elyra grimaced, covering her mouth with a torn glove.
"This place…" Elyra muttered, voice shaking slightly. "It's horrifying."
Elena's amber eyes scanned the horizon — black towers melted at the base, the ground split open in smoking veins. "It's worse than I imagined."
Charlotte rode behind them in silence, her pink hair streaked with soot, the edges of her cloak burned. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but heavy.
"It reminds me of the Holy Capital," she said. "The screams, the smell… everything."
Her grip tightened on the reins. "At least back then, Noel was there to help me."
