Without the deafening rhythm from the whipping of their wings, the atmosphere had deescalated into an eerie silence. A slight breeze gently brushed against the tall wisp of dried grass in the plain. It created a soft rustling in the background, acting as a strange melody against the loud thumping of Tuzi's heart.
Matted in a thick layer of sweat and gore, droplets of perspiration trickled down from her face. Breathing hard, her chest heaved with each gasp. An indication that her weary lungs were struggling to keep pace with her small frame.
Instead of solace, the stillness felt like a cruel joke; Fate's mocking silence amplifying her growing despair.
Now that she has lost everything…
And now that she has killed everything…
What was she supposed to do…?
Who was she supposed to be?
Wide hazel eyes rapidly shifted, scanning the wasteland of her surroundings. In her rage, an ocean of blood, gore, and limbs were created by her hands.
