The battlefield lay still, except for the golden glow of celestial light dissipating into the air. The once-roaring war had been reduced to a silent graveyard of fading darkness. The bodies of Xal’dar’s creatures—wyverns, harpies, orcs, elves, minotaurs, and obsidian-skinned beasts—vanished into curling wisps of black smoke, dissolving into nothingness as if they had never existed.
The celestial guardians stood victorious, their armor gleaming under the ethereal glow that still lingered in the night sky. Wings, both feathered and luminous, retracted as Corvus' team landed and sheathed their weapons. A collective breath of relief passed through all the teams before it erupted into cheers—a triumphant, resounding declaration that they had prevailed.
Corvus landed first, his piercing eyes scouring the battlefield one last time. No enemy remained. The silence was almost surreal, a stark contrast to the chaos that had filled the air mere moments before.