The air in the temple was still, the oppressive darkness that had once pressed down on them now replaced by an eerie silence. Elara stood amidst the crumbling ruins, her sword still in hand, its light dimming as the energy around them faded. The flickering remnants of the ritual's magic dissipated into the atmosphere like smoke on the wind.
"We need to move," Kael said, his voice cutting through the silence. He looked around warily, his eyes scanning for any remaining threats. "There's no telling how long this calm will last."
Elara nodded, though her mind was still racing. The battle had been won, but something deep inside her stirred uneasily. The cultist's final words echoed in her mind—*the rise of the Forgotten is inevitable*—and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into the unknown.
