Elara's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't seen her father in years—not since the day he disappeared without a trace, leaving only questions and a gaping wound in her heart. Yet here he was, standing at the edge of the battlefield, his familiar silhouette outlined against the stormy sky.
"Father?" she called, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. She took a tentative step forward, but the ground beneath her feet seemed to shift and ripple, like the surface of a dark, foreboding sea.
He didn't turn. The figure remained motionless, staring out at the horizon as if he were lost in a world of his own.
Elara's heart pounded in her chest as she moved closer, the battlefield around her growing more distorted with each step. The air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke, and the distant cries of the fallen echoed in her ears. It was a scene out of her worst nightmares, a place where memories she had long buried resurfaced with a vengeance.
