Zephyr
It was still morning, yet all I saw was red.
Blood splattered across broken stone. Fire consuming everything it touched. It crackled with the cries of infants—fragile lives snuffed out before they could fathom the cruelty of existence.
Clouds ran overhead, but these were no ordinary clouds...
The market that once bustled with songs and merchant calls now echoed with shrieks, littered with bodies and shattered hearts.
Children, once bright with innocent dreams, lay reduced to hollow shells drawing final breaths. Trembling mothers clutched them close—faces twisted with fear, confusion, shock—before they too were cut down without mercy.
Zott and Human warriors moved like fevered zombies, weapons gleaming. Eyes glazed with vengeance, pupils dilated black as rot, veins pulsing map-red, mouths wide with chants of death.
Buildings that once sheltered peaceful lives crumbled into charred skeletons.
The plants I helped grow? The crops I helped yield? Ash in the wind.
