The fires of the enclave burned low, embers scattered across the walls and streets. Kael patrolled, his Sight mapping threads of residual souls and unseen disturbances. The battle had left scars physical, mental, and spiritual, but Kael's resolve had strengthened.
He reviewed the threads of the dead he had restrained, noting anomalies, unstable souls, and potential threats. Each required delicate attention, precise manipulation, and moral consideration. Hunger whispered still, but Kael now wielded control with conscious intent rather than reactive impulse.
The Witch appeared silently, her eyes reflecting the dying embers. "You have survived the first tide," she said. "But the world is changing, Kael. Greater challenges await, and the shadows within you grow stronger with each victory. Remember: restraint is your anchor. Without it, you will drift into darkness."
Kael nodded, understanding that each act of control, each moment of mercy, was not only a battle against the dead but a fight for his own soul. The path ahead would demand more than skill; it would demand unwavering discipline and courage.