The aftermath of the battle left Caelum feeling both empty and hollow. Though the immediate threat of the cult and the resurrection of the Shadow King had been thwarted, there was no celebration in their victory. The walls of the Abyssal Spire, once a place of dark power, now stood silent, its magic ebbing away like a dying ember.
Lyra knelt beside Caelum, her voice soft. "We should leave this place. There's nothing left here for us."
Caelum nodded but didn't rise. His hands still shook, his body heavy with the burden of the sword. The curse, though contained for now, would never truly leave him. He could feel the darkness, the weight of its influence, still pressing on his soul.
"You did well," Lyra continued, her words a quiet balm to his shattered spirit. "You've saved us all."
But Caelum wasn't so sure. The world may have been saved, but at what cost? He had given so much of himself to the sword, and now, more than ever, he was uncertain of what lay ahead. Would the curse return? Would he be able to control it? Or would it eventually consume him entirely?
Alara appeared beside them, her expression serious but comforting. "The Shadow King is defeated—for now. But there are others who seek to harness the dark powers. Our journey is far from over."
Caelum's gaze hardened. The battle had been won, but the war was far from finished. His path was still unclear, and the shadow of the sword would always be with him. But he had made a choice. And he would continue fighting, even if it meant sacrificing everything.
"Let's go," Caelum said, his voice steady, but the weight of the world still bearing down on him. "We have a long way to go."
The trio made their way out of the spire, the light from Alara's staff casting long shadows on the stone as they left the dark place behind. The road ahead was uncertain, but Caelum was ready. The curse may have been contained, but the true battle had only just begun.