The battlefield lay in eerie silence, a chilling testament to the chaos that had transpired. Frozen bodies of soldiers, men and women alike, lay sprawled across the charred earth, starkly contrasting with the flickering flames that danced around them.
It was a grotesque tableau, each figure locked in their final moments of life, their faces twisted in frozen agony. Time itself seemed to have stopped, every moment suspended in the aftermath of violence. Yet, the tendrils of smoke rising from charred corpses and smoldering wood served as a cruel reminder that time hadn't truly frozen—it was the people who had.
They lay like marionettes whose strings had been cut, forever caught in the climactic climax of a grim performance.
Riley stood amidst this chaos, his breath shallow and unsteady as he surveyed the field. The air was thick with the pungent smell of burning flesh—a scent that clung to his clothes and skin, invading his senses.
