The Hive Fiend was dead, and the valley had become a graveyard.
Karathra stood at the edge of the carnage, surveying the devastation with exhausted eyes. Everywhere she looked, there seems were bodies of the twisted remains of creatures that had been part of something larger, now reduced to cooling meat and leaking fluids.
The organic material that had covered the valley floor was already beginning to decay, releasing a stench that made her eyes water.
But they had won.
"Drakira's alive," Ashclaw reported, climbing up from the valley floor. He was covered in ichor and what might have been blood, his own or the enemy's. "She's unconscious, but stable. The core's destruction must have released some kind of backlash, and she took the brunt of it."
"Get her somewhere safe. Have Brakthar check her wounds."
"Already done. He's treating her now with the potions we brought with us "
Karathra nodded, too tired to feel relief.
The battle had pushed all of them to their limits.
