The shelter had become a grim battlefield, a place once filled with hope and now awash with blood and sorrow. The leaders—human, elf, and Dragonborn alike—their eyes scanning the chaotic scene around them.
Martin, the de facto human leader, clenched his fists as he watched his comrades fall one by one. His face, usually a mask of determination, now showed lines of deep despair.
The humans, fighting with all their might, were dwindling in numbers. The ground was littered with the bodies of friends and allies, their lifeless forms a stark reminder of the relentless brutality of their enemy.
Nearby, Elara, the leader of the Frostborn Elves, stood with her bow at the ready. Her icy magic had been a formidable force against Destruction's army, but even her arrows and spells were not enough to stem the tide.
