The silence was heavy, almost unbearable—like the void itself was holding its breath.
Shattered fragments of the battlefield drifted in weightless suspension. What once had been veins of hunger were now empty scars across the dark, bleeding faint motes of color into nothingness. The Maw was gone—or at least, gone enough that the world could breathe again.
Naval collapsed first, his trident sinking against the fractured ground as he fell to his knees. Blood streamed down his arms where the veins had burst, his voice rasping through broken teeth. "It's… over…"
Roselia staggered, her staff split clean down the middle. She stared at the faint ember still clinging to her palm, then let out a laugh—half sob, half relief. "We… survived. Saints, we actually survived."
Liliana knelt in front of Leon, her fingers still shaking as she pressed torn threads against his broken frame. She was pale as death, her lips trembling as she whispered, "Don't fade. Please, not after everything…"
