The wind howled through the barren landscape, carrying with it the faint scent of burnt earth and the remnants of Lyria’s magic. Eryndor stood at the edge of the ravaged battlefield, her hand still trembling from the immense surge of power that had just erupted from her. The world around her seemed still, almost as if it were holding its breath, waiting for the next twist in this long and winding story.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The adrenaline was slowly fading, leaving a hollow exhaustion in its wake, and yet, her mind raced. The battle against Lyria had been monumental, but even now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong—something was still out there, hidden in the shadows.
Kaelen, standing a few paces away, surveyed the remnants of the sanctuary. His
