After the Storm

The battlefield was quiet now, the sounds of war replaced by the heavy silence of the aftermath. Xypheron and Vexaria stood at the center of the carnage, their bodies battered, their weapons slick with blood. The air was thick with the smell of iron and smoke, and the ground beneath their feet was littered with the fallen.

Vexaria wiped the sweat from her brow, her eyes scanning the horizon. "It's over for now," she murmured, though the weariness in her voice couldn't hide the tension that still coiled in her chest. The victory was hollow, fleeting. The war wasn't over, and they both knew it.

Xypheron didn't respond immediately. He was still processing the carnage, his gaze far away, fixed on the horizon where the last traces of daylight were slipping away. But even in the silence, there was something in his expression—something deeper than the battle fatigue. It was a quiet storm of thoughts, emotions, and decisions that he hadn't voiced.

He finally turned to her, his gaze intense, as if he were seeing her for the first time, despite everything they had shared.

"Vexaria," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You were incredible today. But... it's not just about fighting. It's about what comes after."

She looked at him, her stance unwavering. "We rebuild," she said, her words steady