Here we go again...
As Amara led George out of the dilapidated house, he found himself in a landscape that seemed torn from a post-apocalyptic film. Crumbling buildings stretched as far as the eye could see, their skeletal frames reaching toward a slate-gray sky. Rusted cars littered the cracked streets, nature slowly reclaiming the urban wasteland with vines and weeds pushing through the concrete.
George's eyes widened as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Amara didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stepped forward, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck with an audible pop. "Watch closely, newborn," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice. "This is what true power looks like."