Margaret opened her eyes to find herself lying amidst desolate and unfamiliar ruins. The teleportation point beneath her shimmered momentarily before swiftly fading away.
"Damon?" she called out, scanning her surroundings but finding no trace of Damon.
As far as her eyes could see, there were only collapsed buildings and streets. No signs of life, no birds in the sky, just a dull, grey expanse covering the land.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
An arrogant and childish voice echoed from ahead. Squinting, Margaret spotted a deserted tower in the distance. At the top stood a thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy, clad in a black cloak and gloves, with a head of soft black hair resembling sheep's wool, and a faintly visible small horn on one side of his head.
He laughed with cruel disdain, waving his hand as the left side of the tower immediately collapsed. Several winged monsters screeched as they flew out in a panic.
