The Constellations

The sky was dark, even though the sun continued to shine above. Its light barely reached the ground, as if an invisible veil had been stretched across the heavens and was swallowing the sunlight before it could touch the earth.

The soil below was darker than it should have been, almost black in certain places, with strange patches where something seemed to have mixed into it and stained the earth from within.

The ground had been trampled countless times, with footprints overlapping one another alongside broken weapons, shattered shields, and pools of blood that had already dried into the soil.

Smoke drifted across the battlefield, carrying the smell of burning wood, metal, and something rotten that refused to disappear. Every breath carried the remnants of the war, making it impossible to forget that countless people had already died upon this land.