Rosewood looked like a town caught between two worlds.
Half of it was normal—sturdy stone buildings, neat gardens, a cobblestone town square. The other half seemed to be transforming into something else entirely—buildings wrapped in thick vines, streets cracked by massive roots, windows obscured by strange moss that glowed faintly in the shadows.
"This is..." Grace trailed off, not knowing how to describe it.
"Really messed up," Diana finished for her, hand resting on her sword hilt.
Their guides led them into the town square, where villagers moved with weary purpose. Some carried buckets of water, others tended to the wounded laid out on makeshift pallets. The moment the villagers spotted the angels' wings, a ripple of hope passed through the crowd.
"More angels!" someone shouted, and people began to gather.
Mara stepped forward, radiating calm authority.
"We've come from the Dominion to help. Where is your village elder?"
