The battlefield was quiet now. Where there had been chaos, only the low moans of the wounded and the distant sound of the wind remained. Smoke curled into the sky, carrying the scent of blood and ash to every corner of Verauno. The rebels were gone—what was left of them, anyway—but their absence left no sense of victory. Only silence.
I stood on the edge of the field, my body trembling from a mixture of exhaustion and the fading remnants of the power that had surged through me. My hands still tingled, my connection to the earth and its raw magic humming just beneath my skin. I had never felt more alive—and yet, I had never felt more drained.
The cost of what we had won was etched across the faces of the soldiers who moved among the fallen. Their expressions were hollow, their steps heavy
