Two days had passed since the battle against the undead forces.
Auren had vanished without a trace.
Since then, Edward and Arthur had remained in the city—organising what was left of the royal guard and commanding shadow summons to dig through rubble, clear streets, and recover the wounded.
The smell of ash still lingered, but at last, things were beginning to look better. The streets were nearly clear, the cries had quieted, and for the first time since the night of the invasion, sunlight broke through the clouds, bathing the ruined town in a soft, golden glow.
Yet even the light could not hide the countless new graves that dotted the outskirts.
Each one was a reminder.
Edward leaned back in his chair, staring out the cracked window of the townhouse he'd been staying in. Somehow, it had survived the destruction untouched, a lone fragment of the city's former peace.
"Are you sure now is the right time to leave?" he asked.
