Bodies were discarded along the road, and the Logos peoples could only bury their kin with utmost simplicity, unable to even hold a funeral.
From time to time, people cast their gazes into the distance, where lay an almost endless road beset only by death, until the very last Logos would perish here, uncertain if they would ever find a place to settle.
In this new world untouched by others, they seemed forgotten by heaven and earth, forsaken by God.
The Elves, who lived long in tranquility, once again felt the fragility of life, having forgotten how easily death could come to those with lifespans of hundreds of years.
The people's eyes often gathered at the forefront of the troop, where Nimirda led them to this place, and although no one questioned this leader, the tens of thousands of Logos had wandered in pain for too long, and soon, that silent fury would erupt and engulf Nimirda.
