(Kieran POV)
Dawn painted the damage in shades of gold and crimson that made destruction look almost artistic, if you could ignore the smell of blood and the way broken stone caught morning light like accusations. I walked the perimeter with steps that felt heavier than they should have, cataloguing losses that would take months to repair and some that could never be made whole again.
The outer gates were twisted metal sculptures now—iron that had been forged centuries ago by craftsmen who'd understood that beauty and strength weren't mutually exclusive, reduced to abstract art by forces that recognized neither aesthetic nor historical value. Just obstacles to be eliminated through whatever degree of violence proved necessary.
Marcus walked beside me, his young face showing the kind of
