The battle had ended, but a heavy silence followed. The field was littered with broken branches, filled with the distant moans of the wounded being tended to by medics.
Damien, Magnus, and Xavier stood together at the edge of the battlefield, observing everything. Damien wiped the blood from his brow, breathing heavily, his shoulders heaving with each breath. A deep gash ran down his arm, but he paid it no mind.
"It's over," Magnus crouched low, one hand resting on his knee as he tried to catch his breath. There were deep cuts across his chest and arms.
Damien muttered, "For now." His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for any signs of further trouble, but all he could see was the tragic aftermath of the battle.
Xavier leaned against a tree, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. A deep, purple bruise marred the side of his jaw where a rogue had landed a lucky blow.
