The next day, it was as if the world itself was mourning. The sky darkened, thunder roared without end, and torrential rain lashed the entire region with relentless fury. The wind howled like the roar of some ancient beast awakened from its slumber. Trees bent and twisted wildly, and old buildings groaned, as if ready to collapse at any moment.
In one of the few luxury apartments still standing strong despite the raging weather, Sylvia lay lazily on a plush bed. This room was cleaner than most ruins scattered across the city. The white walls remained intact, the large windows overlooked the devastation, the thick carpets muffled every step, and a crystal chandelier above swayed gently in the breeze leaking through a cracked window.
The owner of this place? Long dead. Taken by me yesterday, in silent death. Only a fleeting look of fear remained before it all ended.
