The battlefield lay in ruin. Torn tents, broken spears, and scorched earth stretched across the valley. Smoke drifted upward, dissolving into the pale morning sky.
Elira lay against Kael's shoulder, her flame dim but alive. The crown pulsed faintly, no longer tearing at her chest but heavy with exhaustion. She whispered, "We endure… but we must gather what remains."
The Ashbound moved quickly, their torches blazing in the dawn. Warriors lifted the wounded, others rebuilt the shattered barricades. The camp, once drowned in shadow, flickered back to life.
Kael's voice rang out, steady and commanding. "Form ranks. Count the fallen. The night is broken, but the war is not ended."
The Ashbound rallied, their voices rising together. "We endure!"
Elira stirred, her eyes heavy but resolute. She saw faces streaked with ash, hands trembling from battle, yet still holding torches high. The forbidden binding had nearly broken her, but it had bound them tighter than ever.
One of the elders approached, his torch flickering. "Flamebearer, we have lost many. But dawn has given us breath. What is our path?"
Elira's voice was weak but steady. "We rebuild. We gather strength. And when shadow rises again, we will meet it—not alone, but together."
The Ashbound bowed their heads, torches blazing in unison. The regrouping was not triumph, but survival. Yet in survival, there was hope.
Marlic's storm had retreated, but his shadow lingered at the edges of the dawn. The war was not ended—but the Ashbound stood ready for what came next.