The city sat under crushing tension. Everywhere you went, people were talking about what had happened at the Games.
"They said the goddess killed some of us just to come to this place!"
"My spirit should've been resting in the grave. Instead, I'm here—suffering."
"Then let's start riots. Maybe then our voices will finally be heard."
"And how do you plan to do that? Don't you think she'll kill us?"
"She can't. We're her pawns. If she kills us, there'll be nothing left for her to use."
"Yeah… you're right. Besides, we're already dead, what's more to loose ."
They spoke in tight clusters, voices low but charged, fear mixing with desperation. Groups formed, whispers turning into plans—raw, reckless strategies on how to move forward, and how to finally push back.
