The journey back to Azalith seemed longer than ever.
Not because of the time—but because of the weight.
The forest surrounding the city was silent, unlike before. No roars of monsters, no distant echoes of spells in combat. Only the rustling of the wind through the trees and the timid singing of a few birds that dared to return.
Kael walked slowly, his hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed on the horizon. The setting sun tinged the sky with gold and orange, reflecting on the smoldering ruins that marked the distant outline of the ancient magical capital.
Azalith still stood—but like a newly reborn phoenix, shrouded in ashes.
When he crossed the outer gates, the sound immediately struck him.
Hammers. Voices. Reconstruction spells. Tired laughter.
The streets, once covered in rubble and flames, were now beginning to regain their form.
