The oppressive darkness receded, like a tide pulling back from a ravaged shore. The spectral figures, once trapped in an endless loop of despair, flickered and dissolved, their forms becoming shimmering motes of light that drifted upwards, as if finally finding peace. The shadowy realm, which had felt like a suffocating blanket, began to resemble the familiar, if still damaged, Shrine of Luminous Dawn.
Anya knelt, her breathing ragged, the shattered remnants of the corrupted orb scattered around her. The malevolent glow that had consumed her eyes was gone, replaced by a profound weariness and a flicker of returning clarity. Elena knelt beside her, a hand resting gently on Anya's shoulder.
"Thank you," Anya whispered, her voice hoarse and trembling. "You… you brought me back." Tears streamed down her face, not tears of despair, but of relief, of release.