The city was cloaked in an uneasy quiet, the kind that pressed against Elena's chest like a vice. After the chaos of the war, the aftermath seemed more suffocating than the battle itself. Smoke still curled from shattered buildings, and the once vibrant streets were now littered with debris and whispered fears.
Elena moved through the ruins of what used to be her childhood neighborhood. Each step echoed in the empty silence, a stark contrast to the lively laughter and chatter that once filled these streets. Her heart ached with every cracked window and toppled statue she passed, remnants of a life now fractured beyond repair.
Her hand brushed against the cold brick of a collapsed wall. Memories surged—her mother's gentle voice calling her for dinner, her father's stern but loving gaze. The war had taken everything, leaving only shadows and silence.
She tightened her grip around the small locket hanging from her neck, a gift from Damien long before their lives had spiraled into darkness. The locket was the last tangible piece of the man she once knew—the man she still feared, and yet, couldn't forget.
Elena's breath caught as a distant sound shattered the quiet: the faint echo of footsteps approaching. She ducked behind a fractured pillar, heart hammering in her chest. From the shadows emerged a figure, tall and silent, moving with a predator's grace.
It was Lucien.
His eyes scanned the destruction, cold and calculating. He paused when he noticed Elena's hidden form, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face.
"Well, well," he murmured, stepping closer. "If it isn't the lost jewel of Voss. Still playing the victim?"
Elena's fists clenched. "Stay away, Lucien. This isn't your fight."
Lucien's gaze flickered to the locket around her neck. "That little trinket won't save you. Not from me."
Before she could react, he was suddenly in front of her, voice low and menacing. "You think silence will protect you? It never does."
Her mind raced. She needed to get away, but the weight of exhaustion slowed her limbs. The war had broken her body, but Lucien's presence threatened to shatter what remained of her spirit.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle pierced the air. From the shadows, a group of Damien's men appeared, surrounding Lucien. The tension snapped like a wire.
"Back off," a voice commanded.
Lucien sneered but retreated into the dark alleyways, disappearing as swiftly as he came.
Elena exhaled shakily, relief washing over her. But the danger was far from over. The silence that followed was not peace—it was the calm before another storm.