As Clio descended from the apex, the demon lord, realizing her narrow escape, unleashed a roar of frustration. The abyssal vortex, now dissipating like a vanquished storm, left the throne room in a haunting silence. The obsidian tapestries, twisted and distorted by the cosmic forces, seemed to sigh with the conclusion of the elemental confrontation.
Clio, her celestial radiance reduced to a mere glimmer, landed on the obsidian floor with an almost imperceptible grace. The amber sickles, now dulled and worn, remained in her grasp as a testament to the celestial warrior's resilience. The sand, once an extension of her indomitable will, lay scattered like echoes of a bygone storm.
