Following the patrol team of soldiers to the bulwark, they took the elevator to the top. Sevia arrived at the edge of the wall, caressing the rough bricks, overlooking the entire city below.
The desolate wind stirred the girl's hair, in her eyes, the once-bustling city was silent, as if shrouded in a layer of ash.
Gazing at the distant castle atop the mountain, the massive mountain standing in the center of the Kingdom, abrupt yet magnificent, the grand scene implied that the legend was not false, and a miracle from a century ago had manifested in this Kingdom.
Sevia tucked her hair behind her ear, took out a pen and paper, noted the date, and sketched the scene.
"What I love to do most on usual days is to stand alone on the city wall, the stronger the wind, the better." Atula said, spreading her arms wide.
"There's always a gust of wind from my homeland, scented with wild grass and purple blossoms."
"Why did you choose to leave your homeland and come here?" Sevia asked.
