The day had come for the people of Purewood to say their goodbyes. The city that had been their home, their pride, was now a shadow of its former self—ruined, broken, and unsafe. As the morning sun cast its pale light over the wreckage, there was an air of finality hanging over the streets, the kind that marked a chapter closing for good.
The preparations had been swift but thorough. Tigers, usually reserved for ceremonial duties or heavy labour, were now harnessed to carriages loaded with the injured, the elderly, and the youngest of the survivors. Each carriage was packed not just with people but with the remnants of their lives—food supplies, tents, and whatever else could be salvaged from the destruction.
