The night pressed down on the ruined watchtower like a living thing. Smoke from the day's fire lingered in the air, drifting in faint curls that glimmered when the embers flickered. Survivors huddled in ragged tents and broken corners, shivering against the wind that whispered through the fractured stone.
Kael sat apart from them all, his back pressed against a jagged wall. The shadows seemed drawn toward him, crawling up the broken stone like living ink. He hadn't eaten since dawn. Hunger gnawed at him, deeper than the hollow ache of an empty stomach—it clawed at the part of him that was human. Inside, the souls he had consumed stirred, whispering, shifting, pressing against the walls of his mind.
"Kael…"
The voice was different this time—older, heavier, coiling around his thoughts. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, eyes snapping open. The whisper wasn't of the dead; it was something older, something patient.
"You are more than they are. You need not suffer weakness. They fear you. Only I understand."
He pressed his palms over his ears, willing the sound away, but it existed within him, entwined with his heartbeat.
Mira appeared quietly at his side, crouching so that their eyes met. "You're hearing it again, aren't you?"
He did not answer.
"Kael," she said, softer now, "whatever it says… it isn't you. Don't let it become you."
For a moment, her voice anchored him, and the whisper faded slightly. But as she moved to check on the children huddled nearby, the darkness in his mind returned, stronger this time.
"She cannot hold you forever. They will betray you. Only I will remain."
Kael shivered. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to scream, to tear the voice from his skull, but a small, dangerous part of him… wanted to listen.
Across the camp, Garrick watched from the shadows of the broken wall, leaning on his greatsword. He spoke low to a soldier nearby. "The boy isn't right. He fights like no human should, yet he doesn't wield steel. Did you see it today? He devours them—alive or dead, it doesn't matter. I saw it. I watched men fall, screaming inside him."
The soldier swallowed hard. "He saved us, didn't he?"
Garrick's eyes didn't leave Kael. "Aye. And what happens when he decides we're the enemy? The Fractured are never kind. They take, and they take without question. Remember that."
Night deepened, and the camp grew quieter. Most had fallen into uneasy sleep, while Kael remained seated against the wall, listening to the whispers, feeling the tug of Vael's presence in every heartbeat. The whispers were persistent, seductive.
"Yes… take them, Kael. Feed. They fear you. You need not struggle."
Kael's vision blurred as he pressed his hands to his temples. Each soul inside him writhed, crying, clawing. They were not silent—they were alive in a way that should have been impossible. Pain, memory, anger, fear—all burned within him, threatening to fracture what remained of his humanity.
Mira noticed his trembling. She crouched lower, placing a hand on his arm. "Kael, look at me. Hear me. Not him."
He lifted his gaze, meeting hers. For a brief moment, the whisper receded. He breathed, but it was only temporary. He could feel it waiting, patient.
A sudden scrape of boots on stone snapped him from the moment. Figures moved through the darkness—fast, purposeful. Not shambling undead, but humans, driven by desperation. Raiders.
Before he could react, one struck, a blade flashing in firelight, and a sentry collapsed silently. Chaos erupted.
Mira shouted, "Everyone up! Defend yourselves!"
The camp awoke in panic. Children screamed. Survivors grabbed weapons, not ready for this. The raiders charged with savage precision, targeting Kael first.
Kael froze, heart hammering. His body thrummed with the whisper's energy. "Yes. Take them. They will not stop you."
"No…" he muttered, fighting. He could feel the souls begging him to act, to end it instantly. But the cost—another piece of himself swallowed.
Mira fought at his side, knives flashing. Garrick's sword met another man's blade with a ring of steel. Sparks and fire danced across the chaos. Kael's hesitation stretched seconds into eternities.
Then, one raider lunged at a child. Something broke inside him.
Power surged.
Black light erupted from Kael, spreading like smoke. The raiders staggered, screaming silently as their souls were drawn toward him. One by one, their bodies collapsed. Kael's own flesh trembled as he absorbed their essence.
The camp was silent, save for the crackling fire. The survivors stared, wide-eyed. The bodies of the raiders littered the ground, empty husks of what had been living men. Kael's chest heaved. Inside him, the souls wove a chorus of agony, confusion, and anger, threatening to consume his mind.
Mira dropped beside him, her knife still ready, eyes wide. "Kael…"
He looked at her, his eyes faintly glowing. He wanted to speak, but no words came. Only the whispers—Vael's whisper—echoed through his skull.
"Do you see now, Kael? They will never accept you. They will fear you. Only I will remain."
The firelight flickered across Garrick's face, sharp and unreadable. "See? He is no longer our savior. He's the monster the gods would have warned us about."
No one contradicted him. Even the children cowered. Even those he had saved now looked at him with suspicion, awe, and fear.
Kael's hands trembled. The whispers of the consumed souls, mixed with Vael's presence, threatened to overwhelm him. But Mira's hand remained on his arm, a tether. He drew a shaky breath, forcing the voices to retreat into a whisper he could resist.
The camp was silent. The dead raiders lay around them, the living survivors silent and shaken. Kael had saved them. Yet in the eyes of those he saved, he saw something worse than death: fear.
The whisper lingered into the night, patient, inevitable. Vael had not left. He had only waited, watching the boy who could see and consume, who was already stepping closer to the edge.
Kael closed his eyes, gripping Mira's hand. He did not know if he could resist the pull forever.
And in that silence, the night seemed to wait with him.
Kael remained seated among the smoldering remnants of the night's chaos, the bodies of the raiders still scattered around the camp. The survivors watched him with wide, fearful eyes—some in awe, some in suspicion, all uncertain what to make of the boy who had saved them yet horrified them in the same breath. Mira stayed close, her hand lightly brushing his arm, the only tether to the humanity he felt slipping.
And in the quiet that followed, beneath the crackle of dying fires, the whisper returned, soft as a shadow brushing his mind. "They will never understand you, Kael… but I will remain." He closed his eyes, tasting the bitter weight of both salvation and isolation, knowing that tomorrow, the world would look at him differently—and that each choice, each soul consumed, would take him one step closer to becoming either its savior… or its demon.