Elara awoke to the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant sound of birdsong. Her body felt heavy, every muscle sore and bruised from the battle, but the pain was dulled by the soft bed beneath her. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings, her mind still foggy with the remnants of exhaustion.
As her vision cleared, she realized she was lying in her quarters, the familiar wooden beams of the ceiling above her. The air was cool and fresh, the windows open to let in the morning breeze. Sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow across the room.
For a moment, she allowed herself to simply lie there, letting the calm wash over her. But the peace was short-lived as the memories of the battle flooded back—Kael's daring strike, the warlord's weapon, the bloodshed in the village square. The victory had been hard-won, but the cost had been steep.
