The Eastern region had broken beyond everyone's expectations.
Cities and towns were left in ruins. Streets that once echoed with life were now silent, covered in ash and blood. Countless homes were destroyed, and far too many people had died.
The death toll was terrifying. Nearly two fifths of the population had been wiped out.
It was a number too large to truly grasp.
Grief hung heavy over the land. Survivors moved like hollow shells, their eyes dull with loss. Recuperation would take years, maybe longer. And as for the scars left behind, some wounds would never truly fade. It might take decades, even centuries, for people to stop reliving this nightmare.
Seraphina saw all of it.
And she refused to stop.
She moved from one injured person to another, healing until her hands trembled and her breath grew uneven. She ignored the pain in her own body and the exhaustion clouding her mind. She worked until her legs gave out.
