The War was over. The sky matched the ebony of the earth beneath, the silence reverberated across the valley. The War... Was it, though? The smoke spoke of fireballs descending from above, the abnormal mass of smaller blackened bodies suggested a massacre. The War was over.
The rain-splattered windows cast speckled shadows across the wooden floorboards. Max nursed her third stout of the night gloomily, despite her win at court that morning. Was the lenient judge the reason for her success? Or her own proficiency? 'Twas indiscernible to her; as she'd inherited both the Judge's name and legacy.