The dust of the robed figure swirled in the cold air, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Emily stood there, panting, her dagger still raised, blood pounding in her ears. The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of energy still pulsing from the sealed fissure beneath their feet. Aiden lowered his sword, the tension in his muscles slowly releasing, but his eyes remained fixed on the spot where the figure had disintegrated.
"Is it… over?" he asked, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and disbelief.
Emily shook her head, her mind racing. "No," she murmured, her gaze still on the now-closed crack in the floor. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."