The air was heavy with a stench that was familiar and revolting.
On either side of her, there was death and decay. Bodies littered the street, slumped or prone on the ground. With how bloody and grimy all of them were, it was hard at first glance to tell who was still breathing.
Above, the buildings that she had grown up seeing were gone. In their place, there was debris and cracked concrete. Many were missing their tops, and the fissures running along the sides of the buildings were a warning to anyone thinking that these would provide shelter.
A smog blanketed the sky; it had a tint of red that danced with merry menace. Despite the many streets between them, and the chill in her bones, it was like she could feel the heat from the fire that blazed in the central plaza. She could hear shouts as imperial soldiers struggled in vain to tame it.
There was chaos all around, but this street was quiet. Here, there was a resigned despair. A scant number of medics were rushing between dying soldiers and civilians. One glance told her that they were already out of medical provisions – some of the older medics were only making an effort to settle their patients, not treat them.
In the distance, she could see something that should not have been visible from where she stood. With the tall buildings of Byzenkar’s capital destroyed, she could clearly see the ducal palace that had been built on a hill. Like its surroundings, it was in bad shape. All but two spires had been destroyed and what was left of the whitewashed facade now glowed with a faint orange from the massive fire.
She realised suddenly that there was something heavy she was gripping tightly. A distracted glance down revealed that the item in question was a sword. It was not unexpected, all things considered. The sight that confused her was the white sleeve that was drenched in blood. Thin streams of it ran down her hand, pooling in between her fingers and the hilt she clung to, making it slippery.
Confused, she looked around her. Where had all this blood come from? And why was she wearing a white uniform to a battlefield?
She froze when she turned around.
A short distance away, there was a large pile of bodies. Amidst the white and brown of the imperial soldiers, their red uniforms were a stark contrast. A man tossed another red uniformed corpse onto the pile. Scattered around the pile were the slaughtered bodies of their comrades. A handful of imperial soldiers were inspecting the bodies for anything worth salvaging before dragging them to the pile that she realised was a pyre.
A fit of coughs hit her suddenly. Something rose in her throat and she felt it trickle out of the corner of her lips. She wiped it away with her free hand, strangely unperturbed to see a smear of bright red across the back of her hand.
Her knees hit the ground with a painful jolt. The part of her mind that was still calm despite the chaos noted wryly that her knees were going to bruise from that impact.
“Your Grace!”
“Zee!”
She blinked blearily at the overlapping shouts. There was someone rushing towards her, but everything was so blurry, she couldn’t make out who it was.
“Your Grace, wake up!”
Again, she coughed until blood ran freely down her face. There was no strength left in her – she couldn’t even lift a hand to wipe it away.
Someone was holding her head, keeping it off the dirtied ground.
“Medic! I need a medic!” A scream… was it? It sounded so far away. She let her eyes drift shut. The urge to cough seized her again, but before she could, everything went blank.
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