The sound of battle finally faded from the royal gardens. For several long moments, no one spoke. The sounds that replaced the battle were far quieter, yet somehow far heavier.
Only cries of the wounded, hurried footsteps of healers, orders shouted across the ruined garden and the crackling of small fires still burning where powerful elemental techniques had scorched the ceremonial grounds occasionally filled the garden.
The once-pristine venue prepared for a royal celebration had become almost unrecognizable. Broken pillars lay scattered across the pathways. Flower arrangements had been trampled into the stone. The white marble floor was stained with blood belonging to every race present.
The spring breeze continued carrying flower petals through the gardens, as though nature itself remained unaware of what had just occurred.
For many of those standing there, the celebration already felt like it had happened years ago.
