The war with Hybern had taken a disastrous toll on the world. The affects were indescribable. Thousands had been lost, armies had been diminished to nothing, and the Courts of Prythian had nearly lost everything in order to stop Hybern.

You knew firsthand how devastating the affects had been for everybody in Prythian, considering you had fought on the front lines alongside the Night Court, but the losses to the Illyrian regions specifically had crushed you. Everyone was supposed to be healing, and they were, but you'd never felt so numb, so lost. You'd been careful to conceal your grief in the recent weeks, but the wear in your persona was obvious, and Rhysand refused to let you wither away any longer. He'd sent you and Azriel out to the Windhaven camp to monitor the grieving Illyrians.

Getting out should've helped you, but upon seeing the Illyrians - bitter, angry at their losses and grieving, you got worse.