In the broken streets of the city, Dusteria ran.
Her eyes darted from alley to alley, scanning every corner, every collapsed wall, every place a body could be hidden.
Her breath came in shallow bursts. Panic, real panic, gripped her chest.
"Dad!" she called out, over and over, her voice cracking with each cry.
Behind her, Elysia followed, trying to keep pace.
"Dusteria, wait! You have to calm down! We've found every corpse already. That means he has to be alive."
But Dusteria wasn't listening. Her hands trembled. Her legs burned from running. Her heart thudded like a war drum.
"Please," she whispered to no one in particular, "God, anyone, please let him be okay."
She turned a corner, her boots skidding slightly on the rubble-strewn pavement. Then she froze.
Her eyes widened.
Slowly, she stepped back. Her body turned toward a shadowed part of the street.
There, slumped against the broken remains of a wall, sat her father.
The Baron.
