Asdri lifts his hand high, palm glowing. "Cease! All units, pull back!"
Across the field, commanders on both sides echo the call. Horns sound. Shouts rise.
The storm stills.
Sorin lowers her blades, blood dripping from her chin. They all recalled thier units. Thurn recalls his swarm, skittering like a tide back into the trenches. Nyssara withdraws from the walls with her units, her shield dragging behind her, cracked but unbroken. Veltha slithers away, her eyes still glowing, mouth tight.
Ingra slumps down, breathing hard. "Finally…"
Pyke plants his axe and leans on it. "Thought I was gonna die at least three times."
Valia floats to Asdri's side, silent. Her magic is almost gone.
Asdri watches Gorath turn.
The general doesn't say anything more—just raises a hand, and the Bonepiercers begin to march.
Away.
Asdri waits until their shadows vanish into the smoke before speaking again.
