Day thirteen. Dawn came pale and accusatory. Today Mya would die unless Kael did something impossible.
He stood on the ridge overlooking Camp Seven. His painter spirit pressed against his leg, form solid as week-old paint. They'd grown stronger. Not strong enough. Not nearly enough.
The camp sprawled below like a cancer on the landscape. Triple walls. Guard towers every fifty meters. Kiratashi patrols visible even from here. Their spirits partially manifested. Casual displays of power.
"Count them." He whispered.
His spirit's eyes... definitely eyes now... tracked movement. Painted numbers in the air. Forty. Fifty. More arriving. Why so many for a processing day?
"Special event." Garrett's voice made him jump. The old hermit materialized from nothing. "Large batch today. The Council wants witnesses."
"You came?"
"To watch you die? No." Garrett settled beside him. "To remember you tried. Someone should."
Kind words from the bitter hermit. Kael's throat tightened. His spirit growled at the emotion. Or at the camp. Both.
"Any advice?"
"Don't die slowly." Garrett pulled out his pipe. "If you must throw your life away, make it count. Create chaos. Some might escape in confusion."
Chaos. Yes. He'd planned for that. His spirit could paint illusions now. Hold them for minutes. Create false fires. False attacks. Draw guards away from prisoners.
"Will any escape?"
"No." Garrett's honesty cut deep. "But they'll die running instead of kneeling. That matters to some."
To some. Maybe to Mya. She'd appreciate defiance over submission.
They watched the camp wake. Prisoners led from barracks to exercise yards. Hundreds of them. All thin. All broken. All walking dead who hadn't stopped breathing yet.
"There." His spirit pointed. Painted a circle around one figure. Red hair visible even at distance.
Mya. Alive. For now.
She walked differently than he remembered. Slower. Mechanical. But her head stayed high. Still fighting in whatever small way remained. His chest hurt watching her. His spirit whined. Shared pain.
"How close can I get?"
"Before they sense you? Maybe the outer wall." Garrett gestured with his pipe. "Your spirit's still weak enough to hide. Briefly."
The outer wall. Three hundred meters from the prisoner yard. Might as well be three thousand for all the good it would do.
"I have to try."
"Yes." Garrett stood. "You do. Guilt's worse than death sometimes."
He left without goodbye. Wise. No point in sentiment before suicide. Kael waited until full daylight. Guards would be alert but also compliant. Routine made people sloppy. Even Kiratashi.
...
The approach took two hours. Careful movement from cover to cover. His spirit scouted ahead. Reported back with painted warnings. Guard here. Spirit there. Wait. Move. Wait again.
One hundred meters from the outer wall, reality got thin. So many spirits in one place tore at the world's fabric. His painter whimpered. Pressed flat against ground. Lesser spirits instinctively cowered before greater.
"Just a little closer."
But closer meant detection. Already one Kiratashi had paused. Head tilted. Sensing something. His spirit partner, a hound made of silver mist, tested the air.
Now or never. Kael pointed at the supply building. His spirit understood. Gathered itself. Painted with everything it had.
Fire bloomed on the building's roof. Not real. But realistic. Orange flames that danced and spread. Smoke that looked black and choking. For thirty seconds, perfect illusion.
"Fire! Supply fire!"
Guards reacted instantly. Half rushed toward the false emergency. Shouting orders. Grabbing buckets. Beautiful chaos for precious moments.
His spirit painted more. Figures running from the building. Prisoners escaping. Guards gave chase. Split their attention. Some prisoners in the yard noticed. Pressed against fences. Hope kindling in dead eyes.
"The granary too!" Someone shouted.
His spirit obliged. More false fire. More confusion. But the strain showed. Paint-sweat beaded its form. The illusions wavered. Kiratashi would see through them soon. Seconds left.
"Run." Kael whispered to the real prisoners. "Someone run."
A few tried. Young ones mostly. Burst from the yard during the confusion. Made it ten meters. Twenty. Guards noticed. Turned back. The illusions shattered as Kael's spirit hit its limit.
"Fakery!" An Official Kiratashi gestured. His Lord spirit manifested. Massive. Canine. Made of storm clouds and teeth. "Find the source!"
Found. His painter tried to hide them. Too late. Too weak. The Lord spirit's eyes fixed on their position. It howled. Sound like thunder eating itself.
Run? Fight? Die standing or running? Kael chose standing. His spirit agreed. Rose to its full height. All four feet of it. Growled back at the Lord. David versus Goliath if David was ant-sized.
The Lord spirit laughed. Actually laughed. Sound like breaking storm. It padded forward. Taking its time. Enjoying the moment before slaughter.
"Wait." Another voice. Female. Authoritative. "I want to see this."
A Master Kiratashi emerged from the command building. Middle-aged. Scarred. Her spirit wasn't visible but reality bent around her. Space remembered she was dangerous.
"Low Apprentice. Newly bound by the look." She studied Kael like interesting insect. "Here to rescue someone?"
No point in lies. "Yes."
"Who?"
"A friend." He wouldn't say Mya's name. Wouldn't paint target on her.
"Touching." The Master smiled. Not cruel. Just tired. "Tell me, boy. What did you imagine happening? Fighting past fifty Kiratashi? Our spirits bowing to your paint-dog?"
"I thought..." What had he thought? "I hoped to cause enough chaos. Maybe some would escape."
"Some did try." She gestured to the yard. "Guards are rounding them up now. They'll be processed first. Thanks to you."
No. That wasn't... he hadn't meant... His spirit pressed against him. Shared horror.
"First lesson of power, boy. Actions have consequences." The Master turned to her subordinate. "Kill him clean. He tried. That earns quick death."
The Official nodded. His Lord spirit stalked forward. Kael's painter bristled. Ready to fight. Ready to die badly. At least they'd tried. At least...
"Wait." New voice. Male. One of the guards by the fence. "That's the Thorne boy."
Thorne? How did he... who would...
The guard pulled off his helmet. Marcus. His father's friend who'd taken him as a baby. Older now. Grayed. But unmistakable.
"Impossible." The Master's voice sharpened. "The Thorne line is dead."
"Look at his neck. The birthmark." Marcus stepped closer. "Blue lotus. I carried him myself fifteen years ago."
Everything stopped. Every Kiratashi turned. Stared. His birthmark burned under their collective gaze. His spirit tried to hide him. Too late.
"Aldric's son." The Master breathed. "The Council will want him alive."
Want him? For what? But guards were already moving. Surrounding. His spirit snarled. Painted barriers that shattered instantly against their power.
"Don't fight." Marcus caught his eyes. "Please. Don't make them hurt you."
Make them? They would anyway. But Mya... she was watching from the yard. He saw her pressed against the fence. Saw recognition dawn. Saw her mouth his name.
If he fought, died here, she'd blame herself. Last sight would be his corpse. He couldn't do that to her.
"I surrender."
His spirit howled disagreement. But obeyed. Dissolved back into his chest. Left him defenseless as guards closed in.
"Bind him. Carefully." The Master commanded. "The Council's wanted a Thorne for fifteen years. Don't damage their prize."
Chains. Special ones. The metal burned against his skin. His spirit thrashed inside. Couldn't emerge. Couldn't help. They'd bound his bound spirit. Recursive imprisonment.
"Take him to Processing." The Master smiled now. Cold. Calculating. "Let him watch what he tried to prevent. Educational."
They dragged him toward the yard. Toward the prisoners. Toward Mya. She reached through the fence as he passed. Fingers barely brushed his arm.
"You came." Whispered. Amazed. "You actually came."
"I'm sorry. I tried..."
"You came." She repeated. Like it was miracle. Maybe it was. "That's enough."
Enough? He'd failed completely. Made things worse. Got himself captured. But she smiled. Tired. Worn. But real.
They dragged him past. Into the processing building. Down stone steps. The temperature dropped with each level. His spirit shivered inside him. Whimpered. They descended into mechanical horror.
The processing chamber sprawled vast and efficient. Ritual circles carved into stone. Feeding tubes running to underground holds. And in the center, a massive spirit. Domain-class. Chained but patient. Waiting for its meal.
"Education begins." The Master gestured. "Watch what your father tried to stop. Watch what the Council deems necessary. Watch your friend feed the beast that keeps worse beasts at bay."
They chained him to the observation platform. Perfect view of the killing floor. His spirit raged. Painted escape plans inside his mind. All impossible. All ending in death.
Below, guards herded the first prisoners in. The ones who'd tried to run. His fault. His chaos. His consequences.
The Domain spirit stirred. Opened eyes like dying stars. Hungry. Always hungry. The feeding would begin soon.
And Kael would watch. Would remember. Would carry the weight of well-intentioned failure. The Master was right. Educational.
He'd tried to be hero. Became object lesson instead. The paintbrush was supposed to change fate. Instead, it had only painted prettier path to same destination.
Mya would die. He would watch. Then they'd take him to the Council. For whatever purpose they'd waited fifteen years to fulfill.
His spirit curled small inside him. Defeated. They'd tried. Failed. But tried.
That had to count for something.
Didn't it?