The desert had gone silent. It was not the peaceful kind of silence, but the heavy silence that came after chaos. After death. After survival. The outside of Senkeht looked ruined beyond recognition. The dunes had been flattened into craters, rivers of melted sand still glowed faintly beneath the surface, and the scent of blood, ash, and scorched flesh lingered heavily in the air.
Yet no one spoke, because all eyes were on Tunik. The sentinel knelt at the center of the destroyed battlefield, bound tightly by Risa's glowing vines. They wrapped around his arms, legs, torso, and neck like living serpents. Every time he struggled, thorns dug deeper into his flesh, drawing blood.
