Arrival buffer zone.
The Snezhnayan refugees, who had just passed through quarantine and still wore expressions of bewilderment and exhaustion, were plunged into an icy abyss. The broadcast's message struck like a poisoned blade, piercing their last remaining shred of hope.
"Her Majesty... is dead?" an old woman wrapped in a tattered blanket muttered to herself. Her cloudy eyes instantly welled with tears, before she burst into a heart-wrenching wail. "Lord Tsaritsa! O deity of Snezhnaya! Without you, what will become of our home... of our children?" The weeping spread like a plague, and an atmosphere of despair exploded through the crowd. The pillar of their faith had collapsed with a crash. The vision of their homeland in the clutches of the Abyss seemed to loom right before their eyes, and anxiety for the fate of their loved ones bit at their hearts like vipers.
Chapter 192