The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a pale glow across the sanctuary. The battle had raged throughout the night, a relentless storm of magic and violence, but now, as the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees, the fighting had stilled. The sanctuary, though battered, still stood—its protective magic shimmering faintly in the early morning light.
Liora stood in the center of the clearing, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her body aching from the strain of battle. Around her, the remnants of the fae prince’s first wave lay scattered—fallen soldiers, shattered weapons, and the lingering traces of dark magic that had once threatened to overrun them. But they had held. They had fought, and they had survived.
For now.
Finn approached from the edge of the clearin
