The Weight of Victory

The battlefield was silent now.

Where once there had been the deafening clash of steel, the cries of the fallen, and the roar of war, there was now only the whisper of the wind carrying the scent of blood and smoke. The bodies of the dead and dying lay scattered across the land, their sacrifices etched into the very earth. Xypheron stood at the heart of it all, his sword still dripping crimson, his breathing heavy.

It was over.

The enemy had surrendered, their forces shattered beyond recovery. Their banners, once carried with pride, now lay trampled in the dirt. Xypheron's soldiers, battered and exhausted, stood victorious—but there was no cheering, no triumphant cries. Only the quiet understanding that they had won, but at what cost?

Vexaria stood beside him, her blade lowered, her body tense as she surveyed the remnants of battle. Blood smeared her armor, her face, but her purple eyes were still fierce, still unyielding. She had fought with everything she had, and now, like him, she was left standing amidst the wreckage of a war that had nearly consumed them both.

Xypheron finally exhaled, glancing toward his remaining commanders. "Gather the wounded. Give the dead proper burials," he ordered, his voice rough. "This land has seen enough senseless death."

His men nodded and moved to carry out his commands. Slowly, the field shifted from war to recovery, soldiers tending to their fallen comrades, whispering prayers for the ones they couldn't save.

Vexaria wiped a smear of blood from her cheek, her gaze never leaving the horizon. "This isn't over," she said softly.

Xypheron turned to her, his expression unreadable. "No, it isn't."

They had won the battle, but the war had left scars that no victory could erase. Kingdoms had crumbled, alliances had been shattered, and the blood on their hands would never fully wash away. Peace was within reach, but it was an uneasy one—fragile, delicate, and built on the ruins of all that had come before.

Vexaria looked at him then, and for a moment, the world around them faded. "We made it," she murmured.

Xypher