The air was thick with smoke and silence.
I stood in the center of what had once been the Warrens' main hall, now nothing more than a crater of rubble and ash. The walls were gone, the roof collapsed, the bodies of our fallen buried beneath tons of stone. The Obsidian Crown's siege beast had done its work well.
But we had survived. Barely.
"The survivors are accounted for," Mira said, appearing at my side. Her voice was hollow, her eyes empty. "We lost eighty-seven people in the final assault. Another thirty wounded."
Eighty-seven. A small number compared to the thousands who had died in the war, but every loss was a wound that would never fully heal.
"Where's Elena?" I asked.
"She's organizing the food distribution. We have enough supplies for two weeks, maybe three if we ration."
