Esu woke to Lami Okoye's fevered moans cutting through the dorm's usual snore-fest. The broken foot had swollen overnight into a purple balloon, pus leaking yellow from where the bone poked skin. Infection set in fast in the enclave's damp air no healers for servants unless you had silver or a bloodline name worth kissing ass for.
Lami's eyes fluttered open, glazed with pain. "Jide… hurts bad. Can't stand."
Esu sat up slow, ribs grinding like broken glass. The spark in his chest throbbed from yesterday's harvest Kano Ibrahim's boot kicks had cracked him open fresh, blood essence soaking his robe while Lami watched helpless. He'd licked his own cuts clean in the dark, pulling every drop of terror-soaked fluid into the spark. It felt heavier now, like a stone in his gut, but still no crack. Still Layer 1.
"Stay put," Esu whispered, pressing a damp cloth stolen from the wash yard to Lami's forehead. "I'll get red moss herb. Stops infection."
Lami gripped his hand weak. "Can't pay… Guru Hassan will"
"I'll handle it." Esu forced the brother smile. Inside, calculations spun cold. Red moss grew in the inner herb fields guarded heavy, outer disciples picked it for pocket change. Steal enough for Lami, mix with water, bind the foot. Buy two more days of trust. Two more days of guilt-fear harvest when the poison Esu already slipped made the fever spike again tonight.
Lami relaxed, eyes closing. "You're all I got, brother."
Esu slipped out before bells. The dorm stirred boys coughing black phlegm from quarry dust, collars humming faint reminders of last night's failed escape attempt. Some kid from Ife border had tried running. Found him at dawn fried crisp, collar melted into neck meat. Guards left the body as warning.
Breakfast line moved slow. Guru Hassan doled slop with a wooden spoon, eyes scanning for weak links. He stopped at Esu.
"Benin rat's friend. Foot broken?" Yellow grin. "No work, no food. Drag him to the pit if he slows the line."
Esu bowed head. "He'll work, Master Hassan. Just needs one day."
Hassan laughed, belly shaking. "One day costs five coppers. Pay or he feeds the beasts."
Esu paid two last from raider pouches. Hassan pocketed them, spooned extra slop like favor.
Esu ate fast, saved half for Lami. Then job assignments.
Quarry again. But Esu volunteered for herb field escort ten servants to carry baskets for outer disciples picking essence leaves. Risky, but close to red moss patches.
Guard captain scar-faced man named Musa Danjuma, thin lightning blood from the Danjuma border watchers grunted approval. "Survivor boy. Keep up or collar fries you."
March to the fields took thirty minutes through inner gates. Collars sparked hotter here Ase thick in air, Yemoja springs feeding the soil. Plants glowed faint: blue healing vines, red pain moss, black poison thorns for elder salves.
Outer disciples waited twenty silk robes, ages sixteen to nineteen, bloodlines glowing soft. Kano Ibrahim was there, metal scars shining, laughing with his pack.
Princess Adeola wasn't, but her shadow hung rumors said she picked private patches closer to the palace.
Work started. Servants held baskets while disciples clipped leaves lazy, chatting clan gossip.
"Who's the trash with the limp face?" Kano pointed at Esu.
One pack member girl named Fatima Yusuf, fire blood thin but hot laughed. "Survivor rat. Kano broke his friend's foot yesterday."
Kano grinned. "Gonna break the other today if I see the Benin crybaby."
Esu kept head down, basket steady. But eyes mapped: red moss cluster twenty steps left, behind a thorn bush. Guards watched the path, not the edges.
Opportunity at water break.
Disciples sat in shade, drinking palm wine. Servants got warm water.
Esu slipped to the thorn bush slow, pretending to piss. Hand darted three handfuls of red moss, stuffed in sleeve. Sticky sap burned skin, but he bit back pain.
Too slow.
Musa Danjuma's voice cracked like his lightning. "Thief rat!"
Boot to Esu's back. Face in dirt. Collar sparked pain lanced neck, muscles locked.
Musa dragged him up by hair. "Red moss? For who, trash?"
Esu spat blood. "Friend dying, sir. Infection."
Musa laughed. "Servants die. That's the point."
He threw Esu to the ground, whip out braided leather with iron tips.
First lash split robe, skin blooming red.
Second cracked rib fresh.
Third Esu rolled, but fourth caught face, eye swelling shut.
Pain detonated. World white.
Disciples gathered. Kano Ibrahim front, grinning wide.
"Beat him good, Captain Danjuma. Stealing from enclave herbs? Death penalty for rats."
Musa nodded. Whip rose again.
Esu curled fetal, blood pooling under him. Terror hit real collar will fry me, whip will flay me, no one stops it, still too weak.
He bathed in it. Own blood hot on skin, soaked in raw fear. Pulled deep no pretty echoes, just essence thick as syrup.
Spark roared inside. Throbbed like birth.
But held. No crack.
Musa tired after twenty lashes. Skin hanging in strips. Blood everywhere.
"Throw him in the pit," Kano said. "Let beasts finish."
Musa shook head. "Guru Hassan wants workers. Chain him tonight. No food. Tomorrow quarry double blocks."
Guards dragged Esu back, threw him in tool shed dark, stank of rot.
Alone.
He lay in blood pool own making. Licked cuts slow. Drank the terror-blood essence.
Spark screamed. Hurt worse than whip.
Close.
So goddamn close.
Night came. Door creaked. Lami limped in stick crutch, face grey.
"Brother… heard what happened. Snuck the moss you dropped."
Esu took the crushed leaves Lami offered. Half for the foot, half for his back.
Lami cried binding Esu's wounds. "They'll kill you tomorrow. Kano said so."
Esu gripped his hand. "Not yet."
Harvest Lami's guilt blood from foot mixing with tears. Thick harvest.
Spark pulsed ready to burst.
Still Layer 1.
But the blood on the shed floor remembered every lash.
Tomorrow double blocks.
Tomorrow more blood.
The rat wallowed in it.
Because walls built on blood lasted forever.