The dawn broke over the stronghold, its light a fragile promise of peace amidst the shadow of war. The stronghold's defenders were weary but undefeated. The battle of the previous night had tested them to their limits, yet the walls still stood, and the banners of the stronghold fluttered defiantly in the early morning breeze.
Elara stood at the highest point of the stronghold, looking out over the valley below. The enemy forces had retreated, regrouping in the distant woods, their dark presence a constant threat on the horizon. The valley, which had been a battlefield just hours before, was eerily quiet, the calm after the storm. Bodies of the fallen littered the landscape, both friend and foe, a sobering reminder of the price of war.
Cedric approached, his armor still bearing the marks of the fierce battle. He stood beside Elara, his gaze following hers. "We pushed them back, but only just," he said quietly. "They're not done with us yet."