Pushing her thoughts aside, Alisha finally stepped out of the makeshift tent that had been hastily erected, her expression betraying not a single sign of weakness.
But that expression… wasn't natural.
From where she stood, she could see the state of the city: smoke rising into the sky like a bad omen, as if telling her not to delay, that her time would come too.
It wasn't just destruction… it was a warning.
The atmosphere was not good at all.
It was heavy, suffocating, thick with the smell of blood, sweat, and fear that grew with every passing hour.
Every day was another day of despair. Alisha didn't know how she had managed to hold on until now. Where did she find all that strength? For her husband? For her son? At first, that was the case.
That was what kept her going.
...But now?
There was no clear answer to that question.
She wasn't even sure herself; she was holding on. That word had become a divine command.
Don't move forward… don't win… hold on.
