The Price of Victory (Part 3)
The mana lamp trembled in Clara's unsteady hand, its dim golden light flickering with every shaky breath she took.
The fragile glow crept slowly across the basement, peeling back the darkness inch by inch. Every shadow it chased away revealed another piece of the nightmare hidden below.
Then...
She saw someone.
A familiar figure stood silently against the far wall.
Long hair spilled over slender shoulders.
Clothes that had once been clean were now drenched in dark, dried crimson.
For one fleeting heartbeat, hope exploded inside Clara's chest.
"Mom..."
Her voice cracked as she stumbled forward, barely aware of her own footsteps.
"Mom..."
No answer.
Only an unbearable silence that swallowed her words whole.
With every step, the metallic scent of blood grew heavier, filling her lungs until it became difficult to breathe.
Her eyes burned.
Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to stop.
She had to be wrong.
She had to be.
At last...
