The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows over the ruined castle of Valek, its once imposing spires reduced to rubble. The battle had ended, but the echoes of the fight lingered in the still air, a reminder of the darkness they had vanquished. James stood with Zeldor sheathed at his side, his companions surrounding him. The scars of the battle were etched into their expressions, fatigue, relief, and a quiet pride in what they had accomplished.
The land around them was beginning to heal, the dark magic that had plagued it for so long dissipating with Valek's defeat. Still, the devastation left behind was immense. Villages lay in ruin, and the people who had once called those places home were only just beginning to emerge from hiding, unsure of how to rebuild after such destruction.
