The sun hovered lazily above the horizon, casting warm amber light over the majestic city of Herion.
Marble towers gleamed in its embrace, untouched by fire or shadow. Fields flourished beyond the city walls, bearing no scars of monster attack. The scent of olives and pomegranates mingled with the crisp wind.
Hestia, from high above, floated gently in the sky, her divine senses sweeping the lands.
Herion was safe. Thanks to the ever-vigilant Sentinels, the monsters had not breached its borders.
She smiled to herself, heart warmed by the sight of peace.
The leader of the Sentinels, Varn, and his unit were currently on patrol, circling the fields and watching the roads.
Their presence exuded quiet confidence and pride.
"They've done well," Hestia whispered, voice soft as a hearthfire.
Despite being reduced to a small fragment of what they once were, Herion still stood strong.
As she turned to leave and search for other cities in need, the shadows below rippled.
