From the dim confines of the cathedral, Luke, accompanied by Mayor Kingsley and Sir Carrick, emerged into the dawn light. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and the tang of blood, the remnants of the night's chaos still lingering in the early morning breeze. As they made their way back to where the townspeople had gathered, a hush fell over the crowd. Eyes turned towards them—some with relief, others with suspicion and jealousy.
The injured lay on makeshift beds, doctors and healers working frantically to tend to wounds and save lives. People were milling about, their expressions a mixture of hope and despair, waiting for news, for direction. And as Luke approached, all eyes fell on him. Whispers rippled through the crowd—some voices filled with reverence, others dripping with doubt. The so-called Godsend had returned, but not everyone was convinced.
