As the dust settled, the battlefield lay quiet. The dark forces of Voldemort had been vanquished, and his army of dark lords was no more. The Light Lords stood victorious, their magic still glowing softly in the aftermath.
Eamon looked around, seeing the weary but relieved faces of his comrades, including Harry Potter, who had fought alongside him. The battle was over, but the war for balance would never truly end. Eamon had triumphed, but he knew that the forces of darkness would always seek to return.
"The fight is not over," Eamon said, his voice filled with resolve. "But today, the light has won."
With that, the Light Lords began to fade, returning to the realms from which they had come. The Ring of Merlin in Eamon's hand pulsed gently, its glow softening as the balance between light and dark was restored.
But in the shadows, dark magic still lingered—waiting, always waiting for the right moment to rise again.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up!
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