Dican stood silently on the edge of a crumbled overpass, his eyes sweeping over the destroyed city below. Buildings that once reached for the skies were now jagged silhouettes, hollow and broken. Smoke curled lazily into the air in some places, and the streets were littered with the bones of what once was—steel, concrete, and the remains of people who had nowhere left to run.
This… this was the signature of a Grayling invasion.
He exhaled slowly, the sigh barely audible over the wind. It was always the same. First came the skyfire—high-powered artillery that targeted communication towers, defense centers, and infrastructure. They always struck the main cities first. Cripple the leadership, sever the people from each other, leave them confused and scared. Then came the slow thinning—one neighborhood at a time, devoured.
He looked up at the moon, the pale light casting a soft glow across the rubble.
