The lifeless body of the Venerator lays in a pool of his own blood, which thankfully remains motionless in uneven puddles on the ground. Relieved the magical forces that allowed him to manipulate the blood have departed, you look to the cages and see villagers weeping and consoling one another.

You cannot shake the sense that something is still not right. All the villagers outside of the cages remain enthralled and sway catatonically on their feet. Whatever spell they are under has not been lifted.