The tornado seemed to go on forever, its howling winds ripping through the air with a deafening roar. But just as suddenly as it had begun, the wind began to die down. The powerful currents slowed, and the debris that had been swirling in the sky started to fall to the ground in a rain of shattered stone and broken bodies.
For a moment, there was stillness, an eerie calm after the storm. The fae and witches within the protective barrier waited in breathless silence, fearing that another wave of destruction might yet come. But nothing happened.
Aldric's gaze swept over the battlefield. The carnage was unimaginable. The once grand arena was in ruins, reduced to utter rubble. The bodies of both their enemies and his fae brethren were scattered across the ground, broken and lifeless. The scale of the destruction left Aldric breathless. Yet something else gnawed at him, a deeper panic.
Azula.
