The calm that settled over the Citadel was deceptive, a quiet before the storm that Elara could feel in her bones. Even as the morning sun bathed the world in golden light, she knew that the remnants of the darkness they had fought so hard to vanquish were not yet fully extinguished. The battle against the Shadow Shard was over, but its influence, its aftershocks, still rippled through the land, leaving scars that would take time to heal.
After the morning's celebration, Elara retreated to the Citadel's library—a vast hall filled with ancient tomes and scrolls, some of which had survived the dark times only by sheer luck. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and ink, a comforting aroma that reminded her of her childhood, of simpler times when her greatest concern was mastering the next spell in her training.
