The air still smelled of ash. Even though the fires had been put out, the scent lingered, clinging to skin and armor as if the land itself refused to forget what had happened. Evelyn walked through the battlefield in silence, her boots crunching over broken weapons and scorched earth.
All around her, warriors tended to the wounded. The groans of pain, the quiet prayers whispered for the fallen, and the sound of shovels breaking the hard soil filled the morning air. Ravenclaw had won, but it was a victory soaked in blood.
George caught up to her, his face streaked with grime. "We lost eighty-six. Twenty more may not make it through the night," he said quietly. "But Fji's forces have pulled back. They will need time to recover."
Evelyn nodded, her expression unreadable. "And we will use that time. Every hour they rest, we rebuild."
He hesitated. "You should rest too. You fought harder than anyone out there."
