Isper wandered the streets.
The once-prosperous city he had first set foot in was now unrecognizable.
The Holy Capital, once proud of its radiant wealth and power, had utterly collapsed.
Grand mansions built of marble and stone stood charred and gray.
Here and there, flames still consumed buildings.
The grand glass windows, once symbols of opulence, had been shattered—
Only tattered scraps of gauzy curtains now fluttered in the breeze.
The paved stone roads had been mangled by fleeing carriages, panicked horses, and falling debris.
Dark, dried bloodstains dotted the streets—signs that clergy attempting to flee by carriage had met grim ends.
Ornate religious gear, once adorned with brilliant patterns, now lay muddied and soaked in blood across the ground.
Most of the grand mansions' gates had been broken.
Walls that once enclosed lush gardens had crumbled, revealing the ruins within.
Manicured trees had been torn up.
Rose vines, left untended, had shed their petals.
