The air was thick with the scent of scorched earth and the aftermath of magic—a grim reminder of the destruction they'd just witnessed. Yet in the midst of it, Bob felt a flicker of something else, something rare: a shared strength that transcended mere survival. They weren't just standing together in the aftermath of a battle; they were *united*. And that unity, he realized, was their greatest weapon against whatever disaster might come next.
Felicia, her movements graceful despite the strain, turned to him, her eyes steady as she wiped the blood from her blade. "Apollo's right," she said, her voice laced with quiet confidence. "We don't fight with just our swords. We fight with *each other*."
