The air was thick with the scent of blood and ash. Voldrak stood over Flonda, his chest heaving, the rod in his hand trembling slightly as exhaustion threatened to overtake him. Flonda clutched her head, her body weak and trembling after the flood of memories that had returned to her. Her identity as his once-revered wife burned within her mind, colliding with the life she had lived as the Huntress.
"I…" she stammered, her voice faltering. She glanced up at him, her dark eyes rimmed with uncertainty. "Voldrak… What do we do now?"
Voldrak's gaze softened, though his body remained rigid with the tension of the recent battle. He knelt beside her, his hand brushing a strand of damp hair from her face.
"We rebuild," he said, his voice low but firm. "You and I… we reclaim everything they stole from us."
