The battlefield lay in ruins, a testament to the brutal clash that had just taken place. The scent of smoke and blood lingered in the air, and the ground beneath Celestia's boots was slick with the aftermath of the fight. Her heart still pounded from the adrenaline, but as the last remnants of battle faded, a quiet emptiness took its place. They had won—but at what cost?
Celestia stood in the midst of the fallen soldiers, her thoughts heavy and disjointed. She could see the faces of the men and women who had given their lives to the cause—some she recognized, others were strangers. Each one had a story, a life, and now they were gone. Their sacrifice would never leave her, not as long as she lived.
Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, the weapon still stained with the remnants of the battle. It felt like an anchor, a constant reminder that the war was far from over.
"Celestia."
