The night wind blew gently, sweeping away the lingering dust of magic still suspended in the air. After the final burst of light erased Skull's ritual, the battlefield fell into silence. Too silent. Even the sound of crickets was gone, as if the entire world was holding its breath, bearing witness to the end of the battle that had just taken place.
In the middle of the grassland, now charred and scorched in many places, Kaela remained seated. Her body trembled violently. Her hair was disheveled, her skin covered in tiny burns from the overwhelming magic that had pushed beyond human limits. Her eyes were half-open, staring at the sky that was slowly clearing.
"Kaela!" a panicked voice called out from behind.
Several hunter mages and royal soldiers rushed toward the great sorceress. One of them, a middle-aged man in a brown cloak, quickly knelt beside her and checked her pulse.
"She's alive... her breath is very weak, but steady!" he shouted.
Some of the soldiers sighed in relief. But most remained silent, staring at the scene around them. The ground was littered with the ashes of burned undead. The air was thick with the stench of char and blood.
In the distance, the orc forces began to retreat. Those who had witnessed Skull's destruction from behind the front lines had lost their will to fight. The dark magic that once bound them was gone, along with the command of Skull. Now they were like wild beasts, freed from domination, terrified of the fire's glow.
"Look! They're fleeing!" cried a royal knight.
The shout ignited a new surge of spirit. The human forces, once pushed to the brink, began reforming their formation. A trumpet sounded from atop the Emerald Kingdom's gate tower—a signal that the dark forces had been broken.
Yet not all the troops cheered.
Some soldiers stood motionless, eyes fixed on Kaela's wounded form. Their eyes glistened with tears. They knew—if not for Kaela's power, the kingdom would have fallen tonight.
Kaela slowly opened her eyes. The white light that had once enveloped her was gone. Now, only faint traces of magic coursed through her body. She couldn't even lift her hand to touch the ground beneath her. Her body felt unbearably heavy, as though a thousand stones pressed against her chest.
But she smiled—a small, weak, yet peaceful smile.
"I... did it, didn't I?" she whispered.
One of the nearby mages nodded, eyes wet. "You saved us all."
Kaela took a deep, slow breath and exhaled. She gazed at the night sky, now clear. Stars had begun to appear. Their light seemed brighter tonight, as if the heavens themselves were giving thanks for the darkness that had been vanquished.
But deep inside, Kaela knew this was not the end. The victory over Skull may have erased one threat, but the world of magic was never truly at peace. She had used nearly all of her sacred energy to stop the necromancer's ritual. It would take a long time for her to recover. And during that time... other enemies could rise.
A few hours later, the royal forces built emergency camps near the gates of the Emerald Kingdom. Kaela was being treated inside one of the medical tents, guarded by two protective mages and a royal healer. She slept in a half-conscious state, muttering names of the spirits she had summoned during the duel.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, Skull's body was nowhere to be found. All that remained was a wide scorched wound in the earth and cracks in the shape of a massive magical seal. A team of arcane scholars circled the site, recording strange symbols still faintly visible on the ground.
"Is it possible... he's still alive?" asked a young knight.
The elder mage leading the research team shook his head slowly. "The ritual went too deep. His body may be destroyed... but his soul, if not completely sealed... could have survived."
They exchanged glances. Silent. Unwilling to imagine the possibility.
Meanwhile, within the shadows of the distant forest, far from the battlefield, a wisp of black mist drifted silently through the giant trees. The fog crept and slithered, moving like a living thing stalking prey. Within that haze, faintly—came a sound.
Laughter.
Low. Raspy. But unmistakably clear.
"It's not over... little light..."