It was now too quiet on the battlefield. Only the stench of blood persisted, blending with the ground's moisture. Broken weapons gleamed in the pale shafts of light piercing the canopy, bodies were strewn about, and the ground itself appeared scarred by the events that had transpired.
The air no longer rang with the clash of steel or the roar of battle but with something heavier—silence weighted by loss.
Robert stood at the center of it all, his dual swords still sheathed at his sides, his shoulders trembling not from exhaustion but from the tide of emotions crashing against him.
He should have felt triumph. The James clan was gone—destroyed. Billy Walker's proud shadow had been struck down. By any measure, this was a victory. However, he noticed the cost they had to pay as he peered across the destroyed field:Familiar faces lost forever in the midst of Osborn and James's battle
His father's voice finally broke the silence.
"Enough."
