The battle outside shook the very ground beneath the base.
And inside… it was no less cruel.
Smoke curled through the air like a mourning veil. The once-lively central plaza was now filled with the wounded and the dying. Blood stained the stone paths, seeping into the cracks as limp bodies were carried in one after another. Some were breathing. Some were not.
And some… were screaming.
A boy no older than sixteen cried out, clutching his leg as a trail of blood poured from a deep gash. He had been thrown from the west wall and dragged in by two fellow guards. One of them was still weeping—face pale, lips trembling—as he kept repeating, "I couldn't save him… I couldn't… I tried…"
Behind them, an older woman wailed as she knelt beside her son, who lay unconscious with his chest barely moving. Her cries tore through the air like a blade, echoing across the square, making those nearby freeze and lower their heads.
Everywhere, there were more scenes like that.
