The aftermath was silence.
Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that clings to bone cold, hollow, and unyielding.
Where moments ago there had been the deafening roar of explosions, the frantic orders of commanders, and the screams of the fallen, there was now only an empty throne room, hollowed out by loss and burnt dreams.
Smoke curled lazily upward, weaving through shattered stone pillars and twisted metal beams. The scent of scorched circuitry and ash hung thick in the air, a suffocating reminder of everything that had been sacrificed.
Maddox collapsed to his knees, eyes fixed on the glowing rune etched deep into the cracked stone floor.
It pulsed softly, a steady heartbeat in the wreckage.
Violet. Familiar.
Cambria's mark.
But she was gone.
Not a trace left behind not her blade, not her crown, not even a whisper of ash.
