The fortress lay in ruins, the aftermath of the demon general's self-destruction evident in the twisted metal and shattered stone. As the dust began to settle, we knew our first task was to account for everyone. We needed to know who had survived and who had not. It was a grim duty, but one we could not shirk.
Raven and I moved through the rubble, calling out names, checking for signs of life. Others joined us, their faces drawn and weary. The adrenaline of battle was fading, replaced by a heavy sense of loss.
"Over here!" someone shouted. It was Marcus, one of our scouts. We hurried over to find him kneeling beside a fallen comrade. He shook his head slowly. Another one lost.
We continued our grim task, finding some alive but injured, others who had not been so fortunate. Each discovery felt like a blow, the weight of our losses pressing down on us. As the sun rose, casting a harsh light on the devastation, we gathered the survivors.
