The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon as the Guardians emerged from the depths of the ancient catacombs, their faces lit by the soft golden light of dawn. The long night was behind them, and with it, the Weavers' most dangerous weapon. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the world outside seemed calm, as though the land itself was taking a deep breath after centuries of tension.
Elara looked out over the landscape, the rolling hills and quiet forests that lay beyond. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of dew and new beginnings. She inhaled deeply, allowing the sense of peace to wash over her, even if only for a moment.
"We did it," Lyra said quietly from beside her, sheathing her sword as they stood on the hilltop. Her voice was filled with a mix of relief and disbelief. "It's over."
Elara nodded slowly. "The Weavers won't be able to tap into the ley lines anymore. They've lost the power that gave them their advantage."
