As the last echoes of battle faded into the silent night, the warriors swayed, their breaths labored, shoulders drooping under the weight of exhaustion. Sweat gleamed on their brows, streaking through the grime and blood that covered their faces. Lysandra's grip on her sword was shaky, her knuckles white as she leaned on the blade for support, her eyes burning with defiance but shadowed by fatigue. Thalric's chest heaved, his hands braced on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. Every part of him ached, yet he forced himself to stay upright, his fierce gaze flickering between his comrades and the woman before them.