The Aftermath and New Alliances

The sun had barely risen over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the castle grounds, now littered with the remnants of a fierce battle. Broken weapons, torn banners, and the occasional scorch mark bore silent witness to the struggle that had taken place. The air was still, heavy with the scent of charred wood and lingering traces of magic. It was a morning of stark contrasts—a time of quiet reflection and somber remembrance, yet also one of cautious optimism for the future.

Emily stood at the castle's entrance, gazing out over the scene. Her companions gathered around her, sharing in the moment of contemplation. Arawn, his armor still marked with battle scars, leaned on his sword, his face set in a thoughtful frown. Baelgor, ever stoic, surveyed the damage with a critical eye, already calculating the necessary repairs. Morgana and Lilith, their magic drained but spirits unbroken, stood close by, exchanging quiet words.