The night was quieter than Camilla had expected. The sound of the battle had faded into the distance, replaced by the subtle hum of medical equipment and the low murmur of soldiers as they filed into the makeshift barracks to rest. The Citadel, for all its steel and iron, felt strangely empty tonight. The usual hum of activity had slowed, and only the occasional echo of footsteps broke the silence in the hallways.
Camilla stood in the infirmary, carefully organizing the last of the supplies. It had been a long, grueling day, and she had been working non-stop since the first wave of injured soldiers had arrived. The stench of blood, sweat, and antiseptic still clung to the air, but it didn't bother her anymore. She had grown accustomed to the smell—the smell of war.
Her wristband beeped,
