The battlefield didn't quieten instantly.
Evan, after the abyssal carcass vanished into nothing but ashes, its death left a fatal wound on the world. A deep gash it would never forget. The crater dug into the core of the Earth, leading to the abyss... a place that couldn't be left alone.
Black mist clung to the broken walls, with curling smoke puffed from the crater, and deep inside, a strange noise and hollow hum lingered, bathed in darkness.
The army remained for hours, pulling corpses, clearing stones.
It was an arduous task. The orcs were the first to move. Grim-faced warlords picked through rubble to drag the wounded back to safety. Surprisingly, the elves acted like singing healers, helping the other races alongside their old enemies.
Their voices trembled with exhaustion, but remained steady enough to soothe frightened and fragile hearts. Knights of Grigor lifted shattered siege engines aside, their armour scorched and dented, but their hands still strong.
