The silence that followed Helena's realization was not empty; it was a physical weight, a crushing pressure that seemed to squeeze the oxygen from their lungs.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them lowered their guard.
They stood like statues carved from grief and defiance in the center of the desecrated road, two relics of a dead world watching the new one march past them. The questions screamed in the silence, 'Where is our family?' Who allowed this?'
'How long has this been happening? ' but no words could pierce the suffocating atmosphere.
Then, the silence broke.
It wasn't the thunderous crash of an attack or the clatter of demon armor. It was the measured, rhythmic sound of footsteps approaching from the direction of the inner city.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Helena spun toward the sound, her flame flaring brighter, the crimson light casting jagged, dancing shadows across the cobblestones. Her heart hammered against her ribs like something trying to claw its way out.
