The air was thick with tension as the Guardians made their way back to their base. The land around them still bore the scars of the battle—the cracks in the earth, the faint pulses of unstable magic in the distance. But for now, there was quiet, a strange, unsettling calm that none of them trusted.
Elara walked at the front of the group, her thoughts spinning. They had won this battle, but it felt like a temporary reprieve. The Weavers had been relentless, and this latest encounter had proven how deeply they had corrupted the ley lines. The Heart of the World was more fragile than ever, and if the Weavers managed to strike again, they might not be so lucky.
Behind her, Elias was limping slightly, the result of a hard blow during the fight. He caught her glance and gave a faint smile. "I'm fine," he said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.