Kael stumbled upon a walled enclave as night fell. Emberlight flickered along the walls, casting long shadows over guards armed with makeshift spears and shields. Smoke rose from fires at regular intervals. Survivors scarred, wary, hungry watched him with suspicion.
He offered nothing, not even words. Hunger gnawed beneath his ribs, but he resisted. Their fear mirrored the fear he once knew, and he remembered enough of himself to respect it.
The enclave's gates opened slowly, creaking with age and tension. Kael stepped through, the smell of fire, cooked grain, and sweat mixing into a strange comfort he hadn't felt in years. Children peeked from behind barricades, their small faces pale, eyes wide. The adults whispered, consulting each other with urgent glances.
Inside, he found the remnants of civilization: water purifiers cobbled from broken pipes, barricaded homes, children silent at the edges of firelight. Kael slept in a corner, eyes open, the Sight flickering. Even as he closed his eyes, he could see them... the pale light of souls burning softly, reminding him that the power had a cost.