The acrid stench of smoldering debris hung heavy in the air, a suffocating miasma that clung to
the back of my throat like a noxious fog. As I surveyed the devastation that had been wrought
upon our sanctuary, a profound sense of weariness settled upon my shoulders, weighing me
down with the burden of all we had endured.
Shattered remnants of furniture lay strewn about the once-pristine parlor, their once-elegant
forms reduced to little more than kindling in the wake of the battle's fury. Scorch marks marred
the walls, grim reminders of the arcane forces that had been unleashed within these hallowed
halls, while pools of viscous ichor stained the floorboards, testament to the grotesque nature of
our assailants.
Lilliana moved beside me, her delicate features etched with a grim determination that belied the
fragility of her form. Her eyes swept over the wreckage, a muscle twitching in her jaw as she
took in the full extent of the devastation.