The world had changed.
It was subtle at first, like the quiet hum of a melody that only the most attuned could hear. But it was there, resonating in the air, threading through the lives of those who had once been a part of Elara's journey. The moment her essence had been woven into the fabric of existence, something shifted, something unseen but deeply felt. The balance she had restored, the sacrifices she had made, rippled through the realms, casting echoes that would forever be felt.
Thorne stood on the edge of the wasteland where the final battle had unfolded, his gaze locked on the horizon. The sun—if it could still be called that—hung low in the sky, casting a pale, ghostly light over the land. The wind whispered in strange ways, as if it carried messages from far beyond the physical world. There was a subtle change in the air, a weight to it, as though the very atmosphere had been altered by the forces they had unleashed.
