The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, brushing the ashen ruins with a soft, golden hue. The world looked fragile, as though it might crumble under the weight of its own rebirth. But in that delicate light, I saw hope, raw and unshaped, waiting for us to mold it into something stronger.
We packed what little we had at first light. The villagers, now numbering over two dozen, were slow to stir, their weariness as much emotional as physical. Leif had taken it upon himself to organize supplies, gathering makeshift weapons and scraps of cloth to wrap wounds. Zara was doing what she did best—scouting ahead, making sure the path forward was clear. She had already warned us that the land ahead was still littered with dangers, remnants of the entity's corruption that hadn't yet faded with its destruction.
