Silence.
The kind of silence that comes after storms, after battles, after the world has held its breath and forgotten how to exhale.
Kaelen lay on a ledge, broken and bleeding, his human body and Avatar body blurring together in his pain-clouded mind. Ash was beside him, wounded but alive, its golden eyes watching him with something that might have been love.
Footsteps. A face appeared above him.
Seri.
"You fool," she whispered. "You beautiful, impossible fool."
"I learned from the best." His voice was a croak. "Did we win?"
She looked around at the destruction—the burning forest, the fallen ships, the bodies of friend and enemy alike. At the survivors, gathering in small groups, tending wounds, mourning dead. At the mountains, scarred but standing. At the sky, clear for the first time in days.
"I don't know what winning means anymore," she said. "But we're alive. And they're gone. For now."
Kaelen closed his eyes. "For now is enough."