The beach, soaked in blood and seawater, was now silent, like the world's breath held back after a storm. The Nerys Sea had calmed, its surface flat like black glass reflecting the golden sky of the gods with hidden exhaustion. The wind carried the lingering scent of salt mixed with ash, its breeze gentle, as if afraid to disturb the fragile tranquility.
They should have left by now.
Sofia stood in the middle of the sand, her body light after releasing great power, her white wings drooping softly like silk fabric that had just withstood fierce winds. Her spear touched the ground silently, its tip leaving a small trace in the wet sand.
Sylvia was not far away, her death aura subsiding into a calm depth, like an abyss waiting patiently. The War Sun Flame pulsed gently within her, resonating with the remnants of judgmental fire. The small treant on her head swayed lightly, seeking balance once more.
"Let's go," said Sylvia, her voice low and certain.
But the world was not finished.
