The battlefield had finally fallen silent, save for the faint crackling of melting ice and the distant crash of waves. The serpent's massive corpse lay motionless, its once-imposing form now lifeless and fractured. The defenders—mercenaries, adventurers, and soldiers alike—moved cautiously through the aftermath, tending to the wounded and ensuring the remaining monsters had truly been vanquished.
Elara sat at the edge of the icy platform, her staff resting across her lap. Her body ached with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion, but for the first time since the battle began, she could breathe freely. She let her shoulders sag, her chest rising and falling as she drew in slow, measured breaths. Her frost magic had taken a toll on her mana reserves, and the strain of the final spell still left her feeling lightheaded.
