Dawn crept through the shattered windows of the cabin, painting the scene of carnage in a sickly yellow light. The air hung heavy with the acrid tang of burnt gunpowder and the metallic scent of blood. Anya stood amidst the debris, her body still buzzing with the adrenaline of the night's battle. Every muscle ached, her hands trembled ever so slightly, the echoes of gunshots still ringing in her ears.
Ethan emerged from the shadows, his face a mask of stoicism etched with fatigue. His eyes, usually alight with a playful glint, were heavy with the weight of a burden she understood all too well. They had won, driven The Raven back into the darkness, but the victory tasted like ashes in their mouths.
The cost of their triumph lay scattered around them. Daniel, redeemed in his final act of defiance, lay still, a crimson tide blooming around his chest. Beside him, Maya knelt, her face contorted in a silent scream, her once fiery spirit dimmed by grief.
