The air was thick with the stench of smoke and blood, a grim reminder of their recent victory. Ava stood on the war-torn streets, her eyes scanning the devastation that stretched out before her. Buildings lay in ruins, their skeletal frames casting long, accusing shadows in the twilight. The cries of the wounded and the silence of the fallen weighed heavily on her heart.
She could feel the burden of leadership pressing down on her shoulders, a mantle she had never asked for but could not shirk. Every decision she made now carried the weight of countless lives, and the moral cost of each choice was beginning to carve deep furrows into her soul.
"Justice," she whispered to herself, a bitter taste on her tongue. What did it mean now, in the aftermath of so much death? The pursuit of justice had led them here, but at what cost? The city they had fought to liberate now lay in ruins, its people suffering the consequences of their battle.
