Kinza sat on the steps of the Grand Hall, looking out at the early morning sun coming down on the central plaza.
She might have called it beautiful if it weren’t for the c*****e the light had illuminated. People were already starting to repair what was broken just hours before. Frightened citizens emerged from their homes and shelters, and warriors and scholars worked together to gather the bodies of the fallen. Most kept a good distance from her, besides the two warriors that stood protectively in the shadow of the Hall behind her. The protection was a sign of peace—at least temporarily—from the Elders so no one would harm her while she was still in Rhapta.
She fiddled with the phone in her hands, turning it over and over. The last thing in the entire world that she would have expected
