The Aftermath

The battlefield was eerily quiet in the aftermath of the carnage. The bodies of the fallen lay strewn across the land, their blood soaking into the earth. The stench of death lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of smoke from the still-burning torches.

Xypheron stood amidst the wreckage, his sword still in hand, though he no longer needed it. His soldiers moved through the field, tending to the wounded, collecting their dead, and ensuring that no enemy warriors remained lurking in the shadows.

Vexaria walked beside him, her armor dented, her face streaked with dirt and blood. Despite her exhaustion, her posture remained strong. They had won,