A ravaged underground hall. Split concrete, old machines turned into piles of scrap, broken walls. Deep darkness chased away by the bright light of electric floodlights.
The stench of blood permeating the air.
And bodies, of course, scattered on the cracked floor. Dozens of them, all bearing terrible wounds. Bodies of the Awakened of Valor, the Awakened of Song… and one more, a ghastly hill of grey flesh that had been a Nightmare Creature before.
Morgan studied the scene of slaughter with a neutral expression as she walked among the corpses. She would linger for a few moments near one of the corpses, then indifferently move on to the next. Her vermilion eyes were cold.
Saint Gilead, the Summer Knight, was more expressive. He was kneeling in front of one of the bodies with a mournful expression on his gallant, handsome face. A heavy sigh escaped from his lips.
"Amiran…"
Morgan turned around and looked at the Transcendent.
