[Ovelia's POV]
The last of the vision faded, leaving behind a scorched and silent emptiness in my mind's eye. I had seen it all. The final member of my tribe falling. The last flame devouring the last hut. The Flesh Hunters, their dark work done, walking away from the smoldering ruin, their laughter—crude, satisfied, utterly without remorse—hanging in the phantom air. I felt as if I were standing there, in the ashes, the heat of the dying fires on my skin, the smell of smoke and blood in my nostrils. Utterly, completely alone. The village of my birth, my people, erased.
The pain of it was so vast, so immediate, it didn't feel like a memory of a past tragedy. It felt like a wound inflicted right now, in this moment. My heart didn't ache; it went numb, overloaded by the sheer brutality of the images.
