Hours later…
The storm of battle had passed, but Pearlbay still bore its scars.
Ash drifted over the broken docks like gray snow, mixing with shattered timbers and ropes still hissing with seawater. The tang of salt and smoke clung heavy in the air, coating the tongue like rust. Guardians hauled wreckage aside with raw hands, while others dragged sea-fiend carcasses toward the tide, praying the waves would carry them away.
At the center of the square, Lira bent low over a wounded fisherman. Her hands glowed faintly, though her energy was thin after days of fighting. "Hold still. Breathe. That's it—just breathe." The man flinched but obeyed, relief breaking through the grime of his face as the wound closed, leaving only a pale scar.
