Three days. Seventy-two hours in a cave that smelled of mold and old regrets. Garrett traced symbols in the dirt with a gnarled finger.
"This is how they mark the touched." His voice scraped like rusted metal. "See the interlocking circles? Three of them. Always three. Learn it, might save your life."
Should Kael memorize every curve? Every intersection? His birthmark throbbed as he studied the pattern. The same symbol from the sealed houses. From the warehouse documents. From everywhere death had touched.
"Tell me about yourself." Kael needed to understand this man who claimed impossible knowledge.
Garrett's laugh sounded like breaking bones. He settled against the cave wall, pulling ragged blankets tighter. "You want my sob story? Fine. Might teach you something about prices."
This... the old man's eyes held too much pain for simple failure.
"Baron Aldwin claimed me as bastard when I turned sixteen. Big ceremony. Proud moment." Garrett spat into the small fire between them. "Three years later, tried to bind a spirit. Make myself useful to dear father."
"You failed?"
"Failed?" Another broken laugh. "Boy, I succeeded. That's the problem."
Kael leaned forward. Succeeded but lived? How was that possible? Ninety-nine percent died in binding attempts. The survivors became Kiratashi. So which was Garrett?
"Found a origin item in father's collection. Little bronze mirror. Servant girl had died looking into it, screaming about her reflection." Garrett's fingers traced scars on his neck. "Thought I was clever. Thought I was ready."
"What happened?"
"Touched it with blood like you're supposed to. Entered the trial. Girl's grief was simple... she'd been scarred by acid, couldn't bear her reflection. So I showed her beauty in the scars. Told her they made her unique."
That sounded like success? Like proper resolution?
"She accepted. Spirit started to bind." Garrett's voice dropped. "But I wasn't strong enough. Soul too weak. Body too pampered. The binding... twisted."
Twisted how? Kael studied the old man's hunched form. The way shadows clung to him. The way his breath misted even in the warm cave.
"Spirit bound partway. Not enough to control. Not enough to release." Garrett pulled back his sleeves. Frost patterns covered his arms, moving like living things. "Been carrying her forty-three years. Can't use her power. Can't let her go. Just... existing together."
This... Kael touched his own birthmark. Was this what awaited him? Half-death? Half-power?
"Baron threw me out. Can't have a failed Kiratashi as heir." Garrett's smile held no humor. "Wandered until I found this cave. Started learning. Books. Rumors. Desperate people seeking desperate knowledge."
"And now you teach?"
"Teach?" Garrett shook his head. "I point. I warn. I watch idiots like you march toward death. But teach? No. Can't teach what can't be taught."
Then why was Kael here? Why waste time if—
"Your girl. Mya." Garrett's eyes sharpened. "Camp Seven processes prisoners in batches. New moon coming in..." He counted on twisted fingers. "Twenty-four days. Maybe twenty-five if they're behind schedule."
Twenty-four days. The number burned into Kael's mind. Could he become Kiratashi that fast? Could anyone?
"Tell me about spirits. Everything."
"Everything?" Garrett stirred the fire with a stick. Sparks danced upward. "Might as well ask for the ocean in a cup. But basics... basics I can give."
He began drawing in the dirt again. Circles. Lines. Patterns that hurt to look at.
"Spirits are emotion given form. Takes massive trauma. Multiple deaths. The right conditions." His stick scratched symbols. "They latch onto objects present during their birth. Origin items. Without the item, spirit fades."
"The hairpin..." Kael whispered.
"Hairpin?" Garrett looked up sharply. "You've seen a manifestation?"
Should he tell? About Mira? About that night? The words stuck in his throat like glass shards.
"My sister. Found a silver hairpin. That night she... changed."
"Ah." Garrett nodded slowly. "Wandering class. Probably dormant for decades. Your sister's touch woke it. Fed it. Gave it form to walk."
"She killed our parents. Tried to kill me."
"But didn't." Garrett studied him with those too-knowing eyes. "Why?"
The birthmark. Always the birthmark. But what did it mean?
"Show me." Not a request.
Kael pulled down his collar. The lotus mark lay pale against his skin. Barely visible unless you knew where to look.
Garrett's stick dropped. He scrambled backward, pressing against the cave wall. "Impossible. They're all dead. The Council made sure..."
"What are you talking about?"
"That mark. Blue lotus pattern. Sign of the old bloodlines." Garrett's voice shook. "Families who could bind without ritual. Natural Kiratashi. The Council hunted them to extinction fifty years ago."
Natural Kiratashi? Bind without ritual? None of this made sense.
"My father was a carpenter. My mother cooked. We were nobody."
"Were you?" Garrett crept closer, studying the mark. "Or were you hidden? Protected? Kept ignorant for your own safety?"
This... memories surfaced. Father's hidden drawer with strange papers. Mother's insistence they never travel. The way merchants sometimes stared at Father too long.
"The mark protects you from possession. Not from physical harm." Garrett settled back. "Spirits can't enter your soul uninvited. But they can still tear you apart."
Small comfort. Dead was dead, possessed or not.
"Tell me how to find them. How to bind them."
"Eager to die?" But Garrett began teaching. "First rule: spirits leave traces. Temperature drops near origin items. Reality feels 'thin' like the world might tear. Your body knows before your mind."
Kael memorized every word. Temperature. Reality. Body knowledge.
"Second rule: origin items want to be found. Part of their nature. They call to those who might resolve their grief."
"The hairpin gleamed without light..."
"Exactly. Special aspects. Supernatural properties." Garrett nodded approval. "Third rule: the binding trial reflects the spirit's core trauma. You must understand their pain. Resolve it. Not fix... resolve."
What was the difference? How could you resolve death?
"Examples help." Garrett pulled out a worn journal. "Farmer killed his family, then himself. Guilt spirit. Trial showed him killing over and over. Solution? Had to forgive himself. Accept the unchangeable."
"That's it? Just... acceptance?"
"Just?" Garrett laughed bitterly. "Try accepting your worst moment while a spirit tears your soul apart. See how 'just' it feels."
Point taken. Nothing about this would be simple.
"What about combat spirits? Born from war?"
"Different trials. Usually have to prove your worth. Survive their assault. Show you deserve their power." Garrett flipped pages. "Lord spirit near Westmarch. Born from a captain's last stand. Trial was holding a bridge against endless enemies. Binding required standing until dawn."
"Did anyone succeed?"
"One. Became Master Kiratashi. Died six months later when the spirit demanded he recreate the last stand against impossible odds."
This... every story ended in death. Every binding came with prices.
"Why do it then? Why become Kiratashi?"
Garrett's eyes found his. "Because someone you love needs saving. Because normal human means nothing against spirits. Because sometimes becoming a weapon is the only choice left."
Mya. days spent in a camp. Waiting for processing. For feeding to spirits that grew too dangerous.
"Where do I start?"
"Three locations. All had deaths. All might have spirits." Garrett pulled out a crumpled map. "Abandoned mill north of here. Family tragedy. Crossroads to the south. Bandit executions. Artist's studio in the city. Murder-suicide."
"Which is most likely?"
"Artist. Creators hold emotion stronger. But also most dangerous. Artists' spirits tend toward... elaborate trials."
Elaborate. Another word for deadly.
"I'll start with the mill. Work up to—"
"No." Garrett's voice cut sharp. "You'll check all three. In order. Learn to read the signs. Feel the absence as much as presence. Most locations are empty. Need to know the difference."
Made sense. Practice on empty sites before facing real danger.
"What supplies do I need?"
"Blood. Yours. Bandages for after. Food and water... trials can last days. Clear mind. Empty heart. Ready vessel for power."
Clear mind? With Mya counting days in a camp? With nightmares of blue light consuming family?
"When do I start?"
"Not yet. Two weeks training first. Meditation. Preparation. Mental exercises."
"Two weeks? I don't have—"
"You have what time allows." Garrett's voice brooked no argument. "Rush and die certain. Prepare and die probable. Choose."
No choice. Never any choice. But at least probable beat certain.
"Teach me."
The next two weeks blurred together. Wake at dawn. Meditate until muscles screamed. Practice sensing temperature changes. Learn to feel reality's texture. Memorize spirit classifications. Study binding accounts.
"Empty your mind," Garrett commanded for the hundredth time.
Empty? How? Mya's face haunted every quiet moment. Tom's cough echoed in the cave. Sara's signs played behind closed eyes.
"You're thinking. Stop thinking. Feel."
Feel what? Cold stone? Aching joints? The birthmark's constant burn?
"Feel the world's weight. The air's thickness. The space between heartbeats."
This... slowly, painfully, understanding dawned. Not absence of thought but thought without attachment. Observing the mind like watching clouds pass.
"Better. Now hold that state while I attack."
Attack? Garrett's walking stick cracked against his shoulder. Pain flared. Thoughts scattered.
"Again."
Crack. Pain. But this time... observation. The pain existed. His shoulder hurt. But the core remained calm. Watching. Waiting.
"Good. Spirits attack mind and body. You must maintain center."
Days of this. Physical pain to test mental discipline. Sleep deprivation to simulate trial exhaustion. Hunger to prepare for the drain.
"Why are you helping me?" Kael asked one night.
Garrett stared into the fire. "Forty-three years I've carried failure. Watched dozens try and die. Maybe... maybe one success balances the scales."
"Or adds another failure."
"Or that." Garrett smiled sadly. "But you have something others didn't."
"The birthmark?"
"Purpose. That girl. Mya. Others came seeking power. Glory. Revenge. You come seeking to save."
Did that matter?
"Tomorrow you check the mill," Garrett announced on the fourteenth night. "Remember... feel, don't think. Body knows before mind. And if you find a spirit..."
"Try not to die?"
"Try to understand. Every spirit was human once. Every grief has roots. Find the roots, find resolution."
Easy words. But Kael packed his meager supplies, checked his bandages, tested the knife's edge for blood-letting.
Tomorrow he hunted spirits. Or they hunted him.
Either way, Mya had only a few days left.
Time to become weapon or corpse.