The scene before them crystallized into heartbreaking clarity. Lara sat motionless on her knees, her once-pristine clothing now saturated with crimson that had long since ceased to flow. In her trembling arms lay Jake's lifeless form, his face unnaturally serene amidst the surrounding devastation. His chest—the same chest that had heaved with laughter mere days ago—remained perfectly still. The vibrant energy that had defined him, extinguished like a candle in a hurricane.
Behind her stood Kay, his imposing frame diminished somehow by grief. He leaned heavily against his massive war hammer, the weapon's head resting on blood-slicked stone while his white-knuckled grip suggested it was the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes remained fixed downward, as if the patterns of blood splatter on the dungeon floor contained answers to questions too painful to articulate.
