The following morning, the air over the ruins of Los Favorecidos was unnervingly still.
The violent green glow of the Eldritch had faded. Not because it was completely gone, but because a soulbound knight had the ability to dissolve it.
Which really impressed Soren and made him wonder why it was not widely used in the empire.
Regardless, most of the land had been replaced by the soft, golden hues of a sunrise that felt like a fresh start.
For the first time in years, there was no sound of crumbling stone or screaming nightmares for Soren—just the distant, rhythmic hum of the train tracks.
The group stood at the makeshift station, the platform cluttered with salvaged crates and the weary silhouettes of survivors.
Cynthia stood like a monument among them, the unconscious Vass was draped over her back like a heavy sack of coal.
