The sun drifted lower, slipping behind the distant hills like a dying ember losing its final breath. Its fading glow stretched across the plains in long, trembling streaks of gold, brushing the edges of the Sages' cloaks as they watched from their vantage point. The warmth that had lingered throughout the afternoon thinned with every passing moment, replaced by a slow, creeping chill that seeped into the earth like a quiet warning.
By degrees, the sky darkened. Orange softened into red, which dimmed into violet, until finally, the violet bled into a deepening blue that swallowed the horizon inch by inch. Above the ruined kingdom, the white and green lights still clashed in violent bursts. Each collision was bright enough to stain the sky for a heartbeat before fading into the growing gloom. The distant figures moved like warring stars, their auras tearing through the clouds and ripping open the heavens with raw, unfiltered power.
The Sages stood in absolute silence. Eiden's eyes followed the drifting sun, the last sliver of light reflected in his calm, grey gaze. His cloak fluttered behind him as the wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of dust, smoke, and the lingering echo of destruction. The dying light outlined his silhouette in soft silver, lending him the stillness of a statue carved from dusk itself.
Selyndra rose from her meditation, her golden hair catching the final glow of daylight just before the shadows swallowed it whole. Her expression tightened as the world began to hold its breath, the air around her pulsing faintly in response to a quiet shimmer of magic. Beside her, Morvath planted one blade into the ground and leaned upon it, watching the horizon with the focus of a seasoned warrior. The fading sun cast a sharp line across his face, dividing light and shadow, revealing the tension in his jaw and the lethal readiness in his stance.
Vaelus stood with his robes brushing the grass, his emerald eyes fixed on the sky. The dying light reflected in them like fractured glass—sharp and restless. His grip on his blade tightened with every passing second, the muscles in his arm twitching with the urge to act, to do anything but wait.
Iris sat up fully and hugged her knees, her red cloak glowing faintly in the sun's last warmth. Her gaze was locked on the distant flashes, the shifting colors of the battle dancing across her face in a mix of awe, fear, and a quiet understanding of the scale of the unfolding cataclysm. Seraphaine, meanwhile, remained distant and calm, her eyes fixed on the sky as if she were listening to a melody only she could hear, her features brushed with an ethereal glow.
Even Dravien stopped his pacing. His ears twitched toward the horizon and his tail stilled as the world darkened. His restless energy had finally faded into a tense, focused stillness, his eyes narrowing as he tracked every flash of light with instinctive precision.
The sun slipped completely behind the hills, leaving the sky a deep, heavy blue, thick with the weight of approaching night. The first stars flickered into existence, but above the ruined kingdom, the battle only grew brighter. The white and green lights tore across the heavens like warring constellations, illuminating the darkening world with every violent clash.
Night had come, and the war between kings showed no sign of ending.