Elara stood at the edge of the cliff, her gaze fixed on the jagged remains of the bridge that once spanned the deep valley below. The wind howled through the chasm, carrying with it the faint scent of smoke and ash. The battle that had ravaged this place was over, but its echoes lingered in the desolate landscape, a stark reminder of the cost of their victory.
The sky above was a muted gray, thick with clouds that threatened rain but never delivered. It was as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something to break the tension that hung heavy in the air. Elara's heart felt much the same—a tight knot of worry, fear, and determination all tangled together.