The aftermath of the spire's collapse left the landscape eerily silent, the ground where it once stood now a frozen crater. Elara and the group trudged away from the ruins, their breaths visible in the frigid air. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the weight of their mission and the shard's oppressive energy bore down on them.
Nightfall crept over the frozen wasteland, painting the sky in hues of deep indigo. The group settled in a small hollow shielded by jagged ice formations, the faint light of a conjured fire casting flickering shadows on their weary faces.
"We can't keep doing this," Isolde said, her voice breaking the silence. She hugged her knees, her mirror resting beside her, its surface dulled. "Every battle takes more out of us, and the shard's power… it's not just wearing on Elara. It's affecting all of us."
