Aftermath of the Battle

The battlefield was littered with the fallen, the scent of smoke and blood thick in the air. Evelyn stood amidst the chaos, her body aching from the relentless battle. The enemy forces had broken, retreating into the distant hills, but victory came at a cost.

Kael approached, his armor dented and smeared with blood—none of it his own. "We did it," he said, his voice hoarse. "The fortress holds."

Evelyn nodded, exhaustion creeping into her limbs. "But this isn't the end. They'll regroup, and next time, they'll come back stronger."

Lysara rode up on horseback, dismounting swiftly. "Scouts are tracking their movements. They've fallen back to the northern ridge. We have time to regroup, but not much."

The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on Evelyn's shoulders. She knew they couldn't afford to rest for long. Turning to the wounded, she knelt beside a young soldier clutching his side. She placed a hand over his wound, channeling the last remnants of her strength into healing magic. The young man's pain eased, and he looked up at her with gratitude.

Kael watched, his expression unreadable. "You push yourself too hard."

Evelyn stood, wiping sweat from her brow. "I have to. If I don't, who will?"

A horn sounded in the distance—one of their own. A scout galloped into the camp, breathless. "We've captured a high-ranking officer. He wishes to speak with our commander."

Evelyn and Kael exchanged glances. This could be the opportunity they needed to gain crucial information about their enemy's plans.

"Take me to him," Evelyn commanded, pushing past her exhaustion. The battle was won, but the war had only just begun.