The city of Harlow lay in the aftermath of its darkest days. The streets that once buzzed with life were now eerily quiet, the occasional flicker of firelight from distant homes the only sign of movement. Buildings stood charred and broken, windows shattered, and debris scattered as if the world had been torn apart and only fragments of it remained.
Stella stood at the edge of the cathedral steps, looking down at the city below. From this vantage point, she could see the wreckage left in William's wake. His reign of terror had torn through Harlow like a storm, leaving nothing untouched. And even though he was gone now, the city bore the scars of his rule.
Bryan walked up beside her, his face weary but resolute. "It looks worse from up here," he said quietly, his eyes scanning the ruined skyline.
