Smoke curled around Kael's shoulders like a shroud. The scent of scorched stone and burned flesh clung to his cloak.
He stared at the ashes of the woman, his hands trembling—not from fear, but from what he had felt during the fight.
He had enjoyed it.
Not the violence—but the power. The flame hadn't burned him. It had obeyed.
Eira touched his arm. "That wasn't just you out there, was it?"
Kael shook his head. "No. He… wanted out."
"And did you let him?"
He looked away. "Just a little."
Far above, the hollow moon burned crimson, watching them both.