The Light Fae realm remained quiet.
Blood had been spilled across its sacred grounds, and the Dark Fae had finally been driven back beyond the borders they had crossed.
The battlefield was still.
Broken trees stood at strange angles, with their branches stripped bare. Pieces of weapons lay scattered across the silver grass. The once-bright flowers that covered the valley had been trampled into the earth.
Smoke still drifted through the air.
Somewhere in the distance, a wounded Light Fae cried out. Another voice answered, and then silence returned.
Beatrice stood near the edge of the battlefield. Her yellow dress was stained with dirt, but there was no blood on her.
She looked around slowly.
The war had ended, but it didn't feel like a victory. The war lasted almost a year.
Her eyes searched the battlefield. "King Asterion?"
There was no answer.
Baetrice turned. "King Asterion?"
This time, a Light Fae looked toward her. "Baetrice."
