Nina sat on the grass, her knees drawn close, arms limp at her sides.
Her skin was pale under the orange hue of the setting sun, and her gaze was distant—fixed somewhere far beyond the field of broken earth and shattered sky. She didn't blink. She barely breathed.
Around her, the world moved on.
Guards called for medics. Healers rushed past, voices overlapping in a frantic melody of concern and protocol.
Somewhere, someone was shouting about a collapsed dungeon report and a damage assessment team. But none of it reached Nina.
Luna stood a few steps away, arms crossed tightly, posture stiff with tension. Her brows pulled together as she watched Nina with growing concern.
"Nina. I know you're tired, but we need your statement. There's protocol to follow—especially after something like this. You can't just walk away."
She called out, her voice louder than usual, strained.
She expected resistance. Sarcasm. One of Nina's usual flares of irritation. But instead—
Nothing.
