Silence. And then the sound of the trumpet from the highest tower of Typhonburg. She felt like a madwoman, using what little energy she had left to play a victory tune. A tune that many of the veteran soldiers below her would know and one that was often heard being hummed by the eldest sister and cousin of ones who had seen war already. It was a tune that made her happy and yet there was almost a bittersweet undertone as the instrument called out over the grounds of the once beautiful castle that she called home. And just as soon as it began, the song was finished and so too was the Huntress of Typhonburg. She had shot and fled, shot, and fled. Now it was time for her to rest. Her body ached as she tucked herself away into her bedroom after bidding her beau adieu. The sleep that came next was dreamless, for now, she would have peace. For now, the whole world was at peace. They had won, they had survived to see the new dawn upon the horizon. A bittersweet tune for what one could consider a bittersweet end to a war that many thought would never end.