Elysia's boots crunched against loose stone and smoldering ash as they stepped out of the throne room.
The silence was heavier than it should have been. No war cries. No spells detonating. No blood in the air. Just a castle full of echoing ghosts and a sky dimming slowly into twilight.
She exhaled deeply, feeling her fire recede from beneath her skin slowly, reluctantly, like a creature too alert to sleep. Her muscles ached. Her throat was raw from shouting and smoke. But she was alive. So were the others.
And Lucindra was gone.
For good.
The realization should have felt triumphant.
But it didn't.
Malvoria walked beside her in silence, her face unreadable. The queen's usual stride brimming with defiant purpose was tempered now, slow and deliberate.
Behind them, Lara joked half-heartedly about needing a week-long nap, while Raveth muttered something about castle security being "the worst damn joke she'd ever seen."
Veylira followed at the rear, quiet as stone.
