The scent of iron and blood still filled the air.
The sky, once deep crimson, slowly shifted into a dusky violet but there was no peace beneath it.
The battlefield was scarred with gaping craters and black fractures, as if the world itself refused to stay whole after such devastation.
Sylvia stood in the midst of a silent sea of corpses.
The night wind drifted softly, carrying the faint clink of chains brushing against her body. The sunlight that had finally broken through the clouds seemed dim, hesitant to pierce the lingering aura of death that blanketed the land.
Celes, Aurellia, Alicia, and Stacia stood not far behind her.
They were exhausted, faces pale, clothes torn but none dared to speak. All eyes were fixed on Sylvia's back, a living shadow standing amidst a half-dead world.
Sylvia raised her gaze.
Her crimson eyes swept across the field to the countless unmoving bodies, both undead and darkborn who had long sworn loyalty to her.
