The conflict zones are scarred by the march of devastation. Buildings lie in shattered heaps, their once vibrant streets now choked with rubble. The air is thick with the aroma of corpses, a constant obsession of the tragedy that unfolded here. Even the trees seem to droop under the weight of anguis

The battlefields are scarred by the trail of ruin. Buildings lie in broken heaps, their once vibrant streets now choked with rubble. The air is thick with the aroma of decay, a constant obsession of the atrocity that unfolded here. Even the grass seem to falter under the weight of grief. It is a vis