The air hangs heavy, thick with the scent of smoke and the ghosts of screams.
The Golden Horn, stained crimson, reflects a sky bruised with twilight.
Hagia Sophia, once a beacon of Christendom, now echoes with the call to prayer.
A hollow sound, a mournful dirge for a city lost.
The Golden Horn, stained crimson, reflects a sky bruised with twilight.
Hagia Sophia, once a beacon of Christendom, now echoes with the call to prayer.
A hollow sound, a mournful dirge for a city lost.