Thoren stared at the desolate ancient city in the distance, his expression silent and unreadable.
The ruined skyline loomed beneath the gray sky, oppressive and heavy, radiating an aura of death that made the air itself feel stagnant.
Beside him, Arin's usual composure had long since faded. The calm confidence he often carried into danger was gone, replaced by a heavy, solemn gaze.
His brows were drawn together tightly, and his jaw remained clenched as though he were suppressing words he did not dare speak aloud.
From afar, the city looked less like a ruin and more like a battlefield frozen in time.
The once-massive city walls were shattered and torn open in countless places.
Jagged stone blocks lay collapsed at unnatural angles, resembling broken teeth ripped from a giant's mouth.
Some sections had been completely obliterated, reduced to rubble and dust, as though something unimaginably powerful had torn through them without resistance.
