“Victory is never without its cost. And sometimes, the deepest wounds aren’t the ones left on the battlefield.”
The Battlefield Aftermath
Smoke hung over the fields, a lingering spectre of war. The scent of iron, sweat, and charred earth clung to the air, refusing to dissipate. Bodies, both living and lost, littered the ground. Some warriors groaned, clutching wounds, while others kneeled in silent farewell to fallen comrades.
But Aria saw none of it.
Her focus was singular.
"Asher!"
She ran, shoving past stunned soldiers and fallen debris, her vision narrowing until all she could see was him—collapsed in the centre of the battlefield, motionless.
Her breath stuttered, the sight paralyzing her for a second too long.
Then she was moving again, ignoring the sharp sting in her muscles
