The winds carried a chilling howl, echoing across the courtyard as the aftermath of the attack settled into a heavy, oppressive quiet. Adira stood with her blade at the ready, her knuckles white and breath uneven. Around her, the scattered remains of the night's battle spoke of their grim victory—but also the price paid. Broken weapons, torn armor, and smoldering embers littered the ground, mingling with streaks of black ichor that glistened under the waning moonlight.
"We need to regroup," Kael said, his voice low but steady as he sheathed his bloodied sword. His eyes scanned the horizon, watching for movement in the shadows.
"They'll be back," Rhea said, her golden aura flickering faintly as she leaned against a broken pillar. Sweat dripped down her temple, and her fingers trembled from the sheer strain of channeling so much magic. "And next time, they won't just test our defenses—they'll obliterate them."
