Kael didn't look back.
He didn't need to.
The fight behind him hadn't been loud enough to draw attention from the settlement, but violence always left a shape. Even when sound lagged, consequence didn't.
He moved through the pass and into open terrain, where the land dipped and rose in long, uneven waves. Grass bent beneath his steps, but the motion carried no sound until after he'd already passed.
He adjusted his pace instinctively.
Too much silence drew curiosity.
Too little invited pursuit.
The balance was delicate now.
As the sun climbed higher, Kael felt the aftereffects settle into his body—not fatigue, but awareness. Every movement carried intent. Every breath felt measured, like the world waited to see whether he meant to be heard.
He paused near a cluster of stone outcroppings and crouched, resting one hand against the ground.
The earth responded faintly.
Not with pressure.
With memory.
The fight replayed itself in fragments—not visually, but through sensation. Momentum transferred. Stone fractured. Bodies hit ground.
Kael withdrew his hand.
The silence wasn't just around him anymore.
It followed.
That realization sat heavier than the violence itself.
Far behind him, in the settlement he'd left, someone knelt beside cracked stone and unconscious bodies. A guard frowned at the damage.
"No blade marks," he muttered.
Another shook his head. "No blast residue either."
They exchanged a look.
"This wasn't house work," the second said quietly.
"No," the first agreed. "It wasn't."
Elsewhere, in a room without banners, a report was set aside unread.
The woman with the silver clasp didn't need it.
"Unarmed," she said softly. "And still decisive."
The man beside her hesitated. "Do we escalate?"
She considered.
"No," she said at last. "Not yet."
Something that could do this without announcing itself didn't need to be cornered.
It needed to be understood.
Back on the road, Kael straightened and continued walking.
He felt no triumph.
Only adjustment.
The silence had changed how the world reacted to him, but the rules remained the same.
Violence invited attention.
Attention invited correction.
Sooner or later, someone would try to force a confrontation on terms he couldn't avoid.
And when that happened—
Kael's gaze drifted briefly to his empty hands.
—he would need more than distance and restraint.
He didn't know when that moment would come.
But he knew it was closer now.