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... p> Walls cracked. Gates twisted. Fields churned into muddy graves.
But somehow, impossibly, it stood.
And so did we.
I limped through the ruins, claws dragging through ash and broken stone.
The village buzzed — not frantic, not chaotic — just steady. Grim. Scouts hauled broken weapons into salvage piles. Medics patched wounds with scrap and moss poultices. Builders hammered broken beams into barely-standing homes.
No cheering.
No celebration.
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