Emira sat cross-legged among the broken remains of the altar and the scattered souls that had been freed the day before. Like a saint deep in meditation, there was a strange peace on her face. No one would have believed that she was sitting in the middle of such carnage while her own anger pulsed beneath the surface.
Her breathing was slow and even. Her back was straight. Her hands rested lightly on her knees, unmoving. However, she was not simply meditating.
What Emira had been doing all this time was slowly absorbing the energy that still lingered in this place. The malevolent air that had covered the Ruins for so many years had begun to thin, almost imperceptibly at first. With each passing hour, it weakened further. Even the soil beneath her started to lose its darkness, its color slowly turning lighter, as though the land itself was finally being allowed to breathe.
