The morning came slowly, the golden light of dawn struggling to break through the dense canopy of trees that encircled the camp. The forest was silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves as a breeze passed through. It was a deceptive calm, one that belied the storm brewing on the horizon.
Elara was the first to rise, her senses sharp even in the early hours. She stretched, feeling the weight of yesterday's battle still in her muscles. The Shadow Shard, now inert, lay in the center of the camp, its dark energy contained but ever-present. The artifact was a reminder of their success, but also of the danger that still loomed.
As she walked through the camp, she noticed the others beginning to stir. Morgana was already awake, tending to the remnants of the ritual site. Her eyes, usually so piercing, were softened by a quiet exhaustion. Yet, there was a hint of satisfaction in her gaze—a recognition of the monumental task they had accomplished.