Sienna-Rose worked in silence, her expression a mask that barely concealed the storm roiling underneath. The massacre lay in grotesque before the gates of her estate, a hundred lifeless forms sprawled across the blood-soaked earth.
It wasn't the first time she had killed, but the sheer volume of it, what was left behind it, the reason, and the necessity of the act pressed against her chest like a crushing weight.
She refused to leave them as mangled heaps for scavengers. Piece by piece, she ensured each corpse was whole, reattaching severed limbs with her magic, lifting broken bodies with the same steady hands that had ended them.
There's no ritual, no ceremony, only grim respect. With the help of the guards, makeshift coffins are assembled and filled. One after another, until the growing rows resembled a somber wooden sea.
