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The sun dipped low over the horizon as the Ursa Minor Guild regrouped at the edge of the Sylphine Forest, the eerie quiet that followed the battle with Miasma still lingering in the air. The Sylphine Altar, once glowing with corrupted energy, now stood pure once more, its runes softly lit with the clean, calming light of the wind element.
Blakely leaned against Matcha, her eyes heavy from the exhaustion of the fight. Even though they had succeeded in purifying the altar and driving Miasma away, she couldn't shake the feeling that this victory was temporary—like they were merely delaying the inevitable.
