The battle was over, but the aftermath was nothing short of devastation. The once quiet town now resembled a graveyard, with smoke still curling from the charred remains of homes and the acrid smell of death thick in the air. The goblins were dead, but so too were many of the townspeople. The bodies of men, women, and children lay scattered across the streets, lifeless forms that George and his group had arrived too late to save.
George stood in the center of it all, his heart heavy as he watched the survivors stumble out from their hiding places. A few villagers were helping others up, pulling them out of the wreckage, while others simply stood in shock, their eyes glazed over with grief.
"We'll need to bury the dead," General Conners said grimly, walking up beside George. "And fast. We need to move on soon if we're going to make it to D.C. by nightfall tomorrow."
