The sludge clung to every crevice. The constant piercing thump of artillery in the distance was a grim harbinger that life here was fragile. We huddled together, searching for comfort in each other's faces. The quiet between the barrages of fire was more oppressive than the chaos itself. Every sound could be an enemy, every shadow a hidden killer.

The wind howls through the bleached landscape, a mournful song carried on the back of swirling ash. Ancient trees claw at the sky, their branches bare like withered fingers. A sickly pale orb casts its wan light upon this desolate world. Here, in the depths of the ash, silence reigns unyielding. Yet, even in this bleak stillness, a flicker of life