The storm had passed, leaving a stillness that hung heavy in the air. Elara stood on the edge of the battlefield, the once-scorched earth now eerily silent, the aftermath of the battle a stark reminder of the cost of their victory. The remnants of the enemy forces lay scattered, their once formidable presence now reduced to broken banners and abandoned gear.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the field, Elara could not shake the feeling that something was amiss. The battle had been hard-fought, but an unsettling quiet had settled over the land. It was as if the storm had not only battered the physical realm but also disturbed something deeper, something ancient and hidden.
Elara's thoughts were interrupted by the approach of her companions. Kirin, with his sword sheathed and a determined look on his face, joined her, followed by Lyra and Morgana. Thorne and Selene were close behind, their faces reflecting the same weariness but also a quiet resolve.
