The envoy had barely disappeared into the distant clouds when the entire battlefield finally loosened. Weapons lowered. Flames dimmed. Deathmist thinned and drifted away like dying fog. Even the air felt as though it had been allowed to breathe again.
Orobas hovered in the air for a few more seconds, letting his blood-fire settle. Then he took in the ruined city below and exhaled heavily.
"Everyone, put your blades down," he said. "We are done here."
The grandmasters around him nodded and began dispersing. Some flew toward the burning rooftops, others toward collapsed houses. The sky was full of scattered fires and rising smoke. A piece of the main district was still glowing red from the residue of Primus's flames.
Orobas pointed at a group of four seasoned grandmasters.
"You four. Go put out the fires along the east wall. The buildings there are old, if the flames spread, half the district will fall."
They bowed and shot downward instantly.
He pointed at two more.
