The fortress stood in eerie silence, the embers of battle still smoldering in the air. The once-imposing stronghold of Gragg, a symbol of tyranny and suffering, now lay in ruin. Bodies of soldiers, both friend and foe, littered the courtyard, the blood-soaked ground a testament to the brutality of the fight.
Elena stood at the threshold of the fortress, her breath steady but her heart pounding. She had done it. Gragg was dead. His oppressive rule had ended with the thrust of her blade, yet she felt no triumph in his death—only a solemn weight pressing down on her shoulders.
Kael approached her, his face streaked with dirt and exhaustion, but his eyes still sharp with awareness. “We need to secure the fortress before Gragg’s remaining forces regroup,” he said. “Some of them fled, but they
