The massive crater left by Elara's ultimate spell still smoldered with residual magical energy, the glass-smooth surface reflecting the morning sky like a mirror forged in the deepest circles of hell. Scorched earth stretched in all directions where an entire district had once stood, the very air shimmering with heat distortion that made distant objects dance like mirages.
But at the crater's center stood Azaroth Pyron, completely regenerated, his form more terrible than before.
Elara knelt at the crater's edge, her body wracked with the aftereffects of channeling power far beyond her mortal limits. Her fire blade flickered weakly in her grip, the golden flames that usually blazed with stellar intensity now barely maintaining their form as they sputtered and died before reigniting with desperate effort. Blood dripped steadily from her nose, staining her, while her hands shook with uncontrollable tremors that spoke of fundamental exhaustion.
