The courtyard was still, but the aftermath of the battle weighed heavily in the air, thick with the scent of charred shadows and lingering magic. Morgana felt an undercurrent of tension, the kind that hinted at the scars left behind by Nyx's onslaught. As they made their way back inside the fortress, the glow of the Heart of Oaths pulsed softly at her side, its light flickering like a heartbeat in the quiet.
They regrouped in the great hall, the stone walls lined with flickering torches that cast long shadows. The defenders who had fought bravely were gathering, some nursing wounds, others sharing stories of their encounters with Nyx's dark forces. Despite the victory, there was a lingering fear in their eyes, a shared understanding that the shadows were not truly gone.
