Three months.
In that time, the city healed. The fear receded. The nightly terror of the Entity's manifestations became a ghost story, a shared trauma whispered in hushed tones. They did not know the name of their savior. They did not know the price that had been paid. They only knew that the monsters were gone.
In the substation, Kael waged a different war. A war against absence. A war against the void.
His battlefield was a single mind. His enemy was the silence that had consumed Arden Vale.
He taught her language. He taught her movement. He taught her humanity. It was a brutal, thankless campaign.
Progress was measured in fractions. In inches.
Week one: She stood. Three seconds. Then collapsed, a puppet with its strings cut. Kael caught her. He always caught her.
Week four: She spoke. A single word. "Water." A demand. An instinct. Not a conversation.
