The silence after the fight was deafening. The wind, a soft murmur in the trees, moved the bloodstained leaves like some mournful song. I stood in the middle of it all, the chaos slowly ebbing away, the flames of the fire dying down to embers, the faint smell of smoke hanging in the air. The world felt strangely quiet, as though even the earth itself was taking a breath, waiting for something.
My blood was still warm on my skin, mixing with theirs. The blood of the enforcers. The blood of the rogues. I could feel the weight of it on me, like a cloak I couldn’t shake off. It was both a marker of what we’d survived and a reminder of what we’d lost.
I looked down at my hands, slick with it. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt anything but rage and adrenaline. Now, the chaos is over
