Water exploded around Kael as he struck the river. Cold shot through him like lightning made of ice. His lungs seized. Limbs locked. The painter spirit convulsed inside his chest, trying to manifest, trying to help, but the chains still bound it.
Should he let the water take him? Easier than what waited above. Easier than remembering Mya's last smile as she dissolved into spirit food.
No. His body fought without his permission. Kicked toward surface. Toward air. Toward continued suffering. The current grabbed him, spun him, slammed him into a rock. Something cracked. Rib? Shoulder? Everything hurt too much to differentiate.
His head broke surface. One gasp of air before the river pulled him under again. His spirit managed something. Not full manifestation but... cushioning? The next rock impact hurt less. The third less still.
This... they were both dying. Just slower than planned.
The waterfall's roar grew louder. Kael caught glimpse of the edge approaching. Another drop. How far? Didn't matter. He kicked sideways, desperate. His hand caught something. Root? Branch? He gripped with strength born of panic.
The current tried to tear him free. His shoulder screamed. Definitely dislocated now. But he held. Pulled. Dragged himself inch by inch toward the bank.
Almost there. Almost...
The root tore free.
But momentum had shifted. Instead of over the falls, he tumbled into a gap behind them. A cave hidden by the water's curtain. He rolled onto stone, coughing river water and blood.
Above, shouts. The search had reached the cliff. They'd find the cave soon. Minutes maybe. Had to move. Had to...
"Don't."
Kael spun. Too fast. His ribs reminded him they were broken. A woman sat deeper in the cave, watching him with eyes that had seen too much.
"They'll hear you moving. Sound carries strange behind water." She gestured to the falls. "Stay still. Stay quiet. Maybe they pass by."
Who was she? Threat? Ally? Didn't matter. He couldn't fight a child right now, much less...
"Prisoner uniform." He noted the gray rags. "Camp Seven?"
She smiled. Bitter expression. "Camp Three. But they all blur together after a while."
Camp Three? That was two hundred miles south. How long had she been running?
"Two months." She answered his unspoken question. "You learn to move at night. Hide during day. Steal what you need. Become nobody."
"Did you know..." He couldn't finish. Couldn't ask about Mya. If this woman had been at Camp Seven...
"The red-haired girl? No. Different camp." The woman pulled her knees to her chest. "But I heard stories. Prisoners talk. Share news between camps sometimes. She was famous."
Famous? Mya?
"Helped others stay strong. Organized food sharing. Kept hope alive." The woman laughed. Short, sharp sound. "Hope. Stupid thing to maintain in those places. But she did."
This... of course she did. Mya never could leave people to suffer alone. Even facing her own ending, she'd been helping others face theirs.
Voices above. Closer now. Both Kael and the woman froze. His spirit tried to hide them. Paint what little camouflage it could. But still chained. Still weak.
"...blood trail ends at the cliff."
"He went over. Nothing survives that drop."
"The Master wants confirmation. Send spirits to search downriver."
"Waste of resources. Boy's dead. Painter spirit probably dissolved already."
Argument. Good. Meant uncertainty. Meant they might not check thoroughly.
Minutes passed. The voices faded. Moving downriver like they'd discussed. Kael stayed frozen another ten minutes. Twenty. Only when silence felt complete did he breathe again.
"Lucky." The woman observed. "They're getting sloppy. Or maybe just overconfident."
"You know about spirits?" Most prisoners didn't understand what fed on them.
"I know enough." She stood. Moved deeper into the cave. "Follow if you want. Got a drier spot further back."
What choice did he have? Kael struggled upright. Each movement brought new pain. His spirit whimpered with shared agony. They limped after the woman.
The cave went deeper than expected. Natural formation widened into something almost livable. Supplies stacked against one wall. Bedroll. Candles. Even some preserved food.
"Been using this place a week." The woman lit a candle. "Found it by accident. Previous occupant didn't need it anymore."
Previous occupant? Kael noticed bones in the corner. Old. Cleaned. Arranged respectfully.
"Hermit maybe. Or another runner." The woman shrugged. "Didn't ask their name. Just borrowed their shelter."
She turned to study him properly in the candlelight. Middle-aged. Hair gone gray early. Scars on her arms that looked deliberate. Counting marks?
"Elena." She offered. "Former merchant. Asked the wrong questions. You?"
"Kael." No point in false names. "Former nothing. Just someone who tried to save a friend."
"Tried." Elena nodded understanding. "That's what we all do. Try. Fail. Run if we're lucky. Die if we're not."
She pulled out a jar of salve. Gestured to his injuries. "This helps. Made from things that grow near spirit sites. Speeds healing. Hurts like burning though."
Burning? After watching Mya dissolve, physical pain seemed almost welcome. Real. Grounding. Proof he still occupied flesh.
Elena helped him remove his shirt. Hissed at what she saw. "Ribs are bad. Shoulder too. You really did go over the falls?"
"Seemed better than capture."
"Was it?" She worked the salve into his wounds. Fire spread across his skin. His spirit writhed. "Sometimes I wonder if we're just delaying the inevitable. Running to nowhere. Hiding from nothing."
"You've lasted two months."
"By becoming less human each day." Elena's hands paused. "You know what I miss most? Conversation. Real talk with someone who isn't broken or hunting me. Two months of shadows and silence. Makes you strange."
This... Kael understood. Those months on the streets. Talking to walls. To shadows. To anything that would listen without judging.
"Tell me about Camp Three."
Elena's expression darkened. "Why? All camps are the same. Prisoners. Spirits. Feeding times. Only difference is which monster gets fed."
"I need to understand. How it works. How people survive inside."
"They don't." Blunt truth. "They exist. They endure. They wait for their number to come up. Some wait better than others."
She returned to treating his wounds. Told him anyway. Processing procedures. Guard rotations. The way they sorted prisoners by fear levels. The strong-willed saved for last. More flavor when finally broken.
"Your friend. Mya. She would have been Category One."
"Category One?"
"Resistant. Maintains hope. Helps others. They work on those ones special. Extra attention. Extra pressure. Want them properly seasoned before feeding."
Kael's spirit painted violent images inside him. Things it wanted to do to everyone involved. Useless fantasies. But satisfying.
"She talked about you." Elena wrapped his ribs carefully. "Not to me. But prisoners gossip. Share stories. She mentioned someone would come. Someone who'd promised to watch her back."
"I failed."
"You showed up." Elena tied off the bandage. "That's more than most get. She knew someone outside remembered. Cared. That matters when you're counting final days."
Did it? Did knowing someone cared make dissolution easier? Or harder?
His spirit finally managed to manifest partially. Just a head poking from his chest. It studied Elena with paint-wet eyes.
"Painter type?" She didn't seem surprised. "Rare. Heard the guards talking about one causing trouble. That was you?"
"Caused chaos. Got people killed faster." The weight of that crushed down. Those three who'd tried to run...
"They would have died anyway." Elena's voice held no comfort. Just fact. "Everyone in those camps dies. Just matter of when. You gave them a chance to die running instead of kneeling. Some prefer that."
"Do you?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" She pulled out dried meat. Offered half. "Still running. Still breathing. Still stupidly thinking tomorrow might be different."
They ate in silence. The meat was tough. Old. But it was food and his body demanded fuel. His spirit licked at crumbs, trying to help.
"Where will you go?" Kael asked.
"North. Always north." Elena stared at the candle flame. "Heard rumors about settlements. People like us. Refugees. Resistance. Probably lies. But lies are all I have left."
"I'll go with you."
"Will you?" She smiled. Sad expression. "Boy with a bound spirit. Council wanting him special. You'll bring hunters wherever you go. Death to anyone near you."
"Then I'll..."
"Come anyway." Elena interrupted. "I know. Same foolishness that made you attack Camp Seven. Same stupid hope that maybe this time things work out."
She stood. Began packing supplies. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow we move. Your spirit strong enough to hide you?"
Hide? His spirit was exhausted. Traumatized. Barely maintaining form. But it tried. Painted shadows around them. Weak camouflage but better than nothing.
"It'll have to be." Elena noted. "North is full of wild spirits. Unbound ones. Hungry ones. We'll need every advantage."
Wild spirits. Another threat to add to the collection. But what choice existed? Stay here and wait for capture? Die alone in a cave?
"Tell me more about these settlements."
Elena talked while she packed. Stories heard third-hand. Whispers of safe places. Leader named Vera gathering survivors. Training them. Planning something bigger than just survival.
"Probably all lies." She repeated. "But good lies. The kind that keep you walking when your feet bleed. Keep you breathing when your lungs quit. Keep you human when everything tries to make you less."
Human. Was he still that? After binding a spirit. After watching Mya die. After failing so completely.
His spirit painted Mya's face on the cave wall. Brief. Beautiful. Already fading.
"She's gone." He said it aloud. Made it real. "I couldn't save her."
"No. You couldn't." Elena's agreement hurt worse than platitudes would have. "But maybe you can save others. Maybe that's enough reason to keep going."
Maybe. Or maybe they'd both die on the road north. Become more bones for other refugees to find. More warnings that hope was stupid.
But tonight they were alive. Broken. Hunted. Damaged. But breathing.
His spirit curled against him. Shared warmth. Shared grief. Shared determination to continue despite everything.
"She never gave up hope." Elena said quietly. "Even at the end. Guards complained about it. Said she ruined the fear-flavor they were cultivating. Stayed stubborn to the last breath."
Of course she did. Mya had always been stubborn. It's what Kael had loved most about her.
Loved. Past tense now. Forever past tense.
But she'd known he came. Known he'd tried. Maybe that had made the ending bearable. Maybe not. He'd never know.
All he could do was keep going. North. Toward rumors and refugees and probable death. But going. Moving. Refusing to let Mya's memory dissolve like her body had.
His spirit painted agreement. Weak images. But determined.
Tomorrow they'd run. Tonight they'd rest. And somewhere in between, they'd pretend that survival meant something more than just delayed feeding.
It had to mean more.
For Mya. For Elena. For everyone still trapped in camps.
It had to.