Night fell, and Kael's training took a more physical turn. The Witch conjured silhouettes of the dead, shadowy forms that lunged and struck, testing his reactions and combat instincts. Kael moved with the Sight, anticipating each attack, guiding his movements with precision.
The pale lines beneath his skin pulsed as he struck, dodged, and countered. Each shadow he dispatched taught him not only about timing but about the integration of Sight, body, and will. Every strike demanded focus, every evasion required understanding of the enemy's soul-light.
By dawn, Kael was exhausted but aware of the subtle changes. The hunger pulsed less insistently now, as if recognizing his growing mastery. He felt fragments of memory returning, clarity sharpening his identity.