Chapter 47 Dawn's Uncertain Light

The cavern echoed with the ragged breaths of the weary victors. Friesland, his body aching and his arm hanging limply at his side, leaned against the cold stone wall. Elizabeth, her face pale but her eyes resolute, surveyed the scene with a mix of relief and apprehension. The aftershocks of the battle lingered in the air. The defeated Blackwoods lay sprawled on the cold floor, their dark magic dissipated. The platform, once a conduit for an ancient evil, stood silent, a testament to their desperate struggle. But the victory came at a price. Davies, his face ashen, cradled a wound in his arm, a testament to the ferocity of the Blackwoods' defense. Miller, his clothes torn and bloodied, stumbled into the chamber, leaning heavily against a statue for support. "Close call," he rasped, a hint of a triumphant grin playing on his lips despite the pain. "Those goons put up a fight, but we got 'em." Elizabeth rushed to his side, her eyes scanning for the source of his injuries. "You're hurt