The sun's last golden rays stretched across the kingdom, gradually blending with the soft, monochrome twilight that began to seep into the sky, painting the streets and buildings below in a surreal mix of light and shadow. Adyr hovered silently above, wings outstretched, his gaze sweeping across the scene.
Below him, a vast square lay open at the kingdom's heart. Countless Velari had gathered, civilians mingling with knights clad in gleaming armor and polished helmets. The air vibrated with energy and relief, a quiet celebration replacing the tension that had gripped the city just moments ago.
"They look fine," Adyr murmured to himself. Word of Collossith's defeat had clearly spread; the chaos had subsided, giving way to cautious jubilation.
As his eyes searched the crowd for the King, a familiar voice called out.
"Brother."
Malrik approached on his massive Frost Wyvern, gliding effortlessly, a warm smile brightening his face.
