Clamor. Loud shouts. Arguments.
This was what filled the Grath'Mekhai's ears. The elders of the coven had gathered in a makeshift chamber underground, one that granted them next to no privacy.
The surviving thousands of the coven could hear their screams. Yet, nothing seemed to reach the Grath'Mekhai's ears.
Her eyes stared, lost, at the severed heads of multiple children laying bare on the floor in front of her. She couldn't tell what she was currently feeling.
Today had been filled with so much death and pain that she'd gone numb by the sheer number of raging emotions rampaging through her.
The coven had been attacked. People had been killed, slaughtered, and captured. Even her own did not escape this.
The Grath'Mekhai felt her heart ache as she recalled the report she'd received earlier. Her daughters had been captured. Taken.
The thought of never seeing them again weighed heavily on her, though she couldn't help but admit their current situation outweighed it.
