My Adopted Dogs Are Alpha Males

Chapter Fifty Two

Third Person's POV

The festive atmosphere that had enveloped the battlefield after the defeat of Drayka and his dark forces gradually gave way to a somber, reverent mood as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was heavy with the weight of loss, the echoes of victory mingling with the solemnity of remembrance.

Kamila stood at the heart of it all, flanked by her two mates, Dylan and Ryan. They were the pillars of her strength, their presence offering comfort and solace in the face of grief. Together, they surveyed the scene, where the fallen heroes lay in silent repose, their bodies shrouded in makeshift coverings.

"They will be remembered well, for their bravery and selflessness," Kamila said softly, her voice carrying a note of sorrow that mirrored the emotions of those around her. She reached out, intertwining her fingers with Dylan's and Ryan's, drawing strength from their shared bond.

Dylan nodded solemnly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "They fought valiantly, every one of them," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the fallen warriors scattered across the field. "Their sacrifice will never be forgotten."

Ryan squeezed Kamila's hand gently, his expression a mix of sadness and determination. "We owe it to them to honor their memory," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Let us give them a farewell befitting heroes."

With a silent agreement, the trio turned to the gathered allies, who had formed a circle around the fallen, heads bowed in reverence. The rain had ceased, leaving only the soft glow of torches and the flickering light of stars to illuminate the scene.

A witch stepped forward, her voice clear and resonant in the stillness. "Let us offer prayers to the spirits of the departed," she intoned, her words carrying a weight of centuries-old wisdom. "May they find peace in the afterlife, and may their deeds be remembered for generations to come."

The gathered crowd bowed their heads, their hearts heavy with grief and gratitude. The witch began to chant, her voice rising and falling in a haunting melody that seemed to echo across the expanse of the battlefield. Her words carried the hopes and wishes of all present, a collective plea for solace and understanding in the face of loss.

As the chant reached its crescendo, the centaurs stepped forward, bearing the fallen upon their sturdy backs. With solemn reverence, they carried their comrades to a clearing at the edge of the battlefield, where a makeshift altar had been prepared.

The elves, their eyes brimming with tears, adorned the altar with flowers and herbs, weaving intricate patterns of remembrance and reverence. Each gesture was a testament to the bond shared between the fallen and the living, a silent promise to carry their memories forward in the days to come.

Kamila, Dylan, and Ryan stood at the head of the procession, their presence a symbol of unity and strength. Together, they offered words of farewell to their fallen comrades, each tribute a heartfelt expression of gratitude and respect.

"We will never forget the sacrifices you made," Kamila whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You fought with courage and honor, and your memory will live on in our hearts forever."

Dylan laid a hand on the altar, his gaze fixed on the stars above. "May your spirits find peace in the embrace of the ancestors," he said, his voice soft yet resolute. "We will carry on the fight in your name, until justice prevails and peace reigns once more."

Ryan bowed his head, his features a mask of solemnity. "Rest easy, brave warriors," he murmured, his words a solemn vow. "Your legacy will inspire us to continue the fight, no matter the challenges we may face."

With the final tributes offered, the centaurs lowered the fallen heroes into the earth, their bodies returning to the embrace of the land they had fought so valiantly to protect. The gathered allies stood in silent vigil, their hearts heavy with sorrow yet fortified by the knowledge that their sacrifices had not been in vain.