The ruins of the Silver Moon packlands loomed before Brielle like a silent sentinel, a grim reminder of the massacre that had robbed her of everything she held dear. She stood at the edge of the decimated village, her heart heavy with the weight of memories and her body tense with apprehension.

As she stepped through the crumbling archway that had once marked the entrance to her home, a shiver raced down her spine. The air was thick with the scent of decay and ash, the acrid stench of death that still clung to the ravaged buildings like a shroud.

Brielle's eyes swept over the ruined structures, her mind conjuring...