Death knows no face. It respects no one, comes in whatever form it wishes, and at whatever time it pleases.
Zeldia had been turned into a graveyard, leaving those that survived with hurt and guilt.
Nothing hurts more than losing one that holds a spot in your heart. It hurts even more when you couldn't say goodbye and when you beat yourself up for not being there on time. For not stopping the world to save that person.
So many in Tabaka were yet to let go of the guilt and hurt. Amongst that multitude was Hakeem Coleman.
The war had taken enough from him. His warriors, people he should have protected, and his family. At night he would still wake up, haunted by the ghosts of that day. They had won and fate had been fulfilled. What all of them had forgotten about the prophecy was that
