Calyx and the other four wraiths did not return by the clean road.

Humphrey circled through Spendworth Hills first, bleeding half a day into misdirection, using alleys and back paths and the sort of routes that kept curious eyes from noticing a carriage that should not exist.

Humphrey trotted along with them, ugly as a bad thought and twice as useful. Radeon had used the pig as a compass for karmic threads.

Ghosts did not draw karma like living beings did. Their kind reaped strange rewards from chaos.

When they finally reached the gates of Cairnlight Barterhold, they did not ride up toward the peak like guests.

The carriage entered through a main gate normally and turned aside at once, into a shed marked off limits. Guard details were as tight that no dust could pass.

From there, Humphrey led them into a damp cave. Water dripped somewhere ahead, steady as a clock.

The air tasted of wet stone and old roots. Humphrey even took a small break when he saw a mushroom growing by the cave wall.

The passage spat them out near the disciple's pavilion quarters, close enough that Spice Cure and Gauge Point came running the moment they heard movement.

They saw no Fay. No Good Chip. They saw Humphrey. The pig looked up at them and chose cruelty.

Its eyes clouded in an instant. Tears spilled down its ugly cheeks, too perfect, too human to ignore.

Spice Cure dropped to the ground as if her bones had turned to ash.

She wailed, the sound of a girl who had become attached to someone she was supposed to be for centuries to come.

Gauge Point's fists clenched. His jaw set. Something in his gaze cooled toward Radeon, trust thinning into suspicion.

Humphrey kept crying, enjoying every breath of its mischief.

Then five men in white robes stepped out of the shadow, calm as if they had only gone for a walk.

Calyx and his team of four. Their disguises sat on them for a heartbeat, then Calyx let the edge of his true face show, just enough to make the pig flinch.

He leaned down and licked Humphrey's wet cheek.

Humphrey squealed. The tears stopped at once. It put on a fawning look so fast it was almost impressive, already searching for a way out.

"All right," a voice said. "Enough."

Radeon arrived without hurry, as if the bazaar and the collapsing pagoda had been minor errands.

His eyes flicked over Spice Cure on the floor and Gauge Point's clenched hands, then to the four wraiths behind Calyx.

Oisin, Elsin, Maeron, and Ewan lowered their heads. Shame hung on them heavy.

Questions still gnawed, but they did not dare ask them here.

Calyx did not waste time with excuses. He opened the system storage and drew out the two bodies.

Fay and Good Chip lay slack, skin dull, bodies plumped, their faces twitching under a sweet poison.

Calyx had chosen storage for the transport because he trusted Radeon's internal space more than any road.

He also knew the substances in their blood were not something a ghost could purge.

Ghosts did not sweat. Ghosts did not vomit. Ghosts did not suffer the same way, and that made them useless here.

Calyx reached to return the souls to their bodies. Radeon lifted a hand.

"Allow me first," he demanded.

He took out his cold steel needles, then warmed them until they held the heat of living flesh.

With practiced care, he punctured blood vessels and meridians, not hesitating, not gentle.

His qi slid in and forced the bodies to run. Hearts kicked into a peak gallop. Meridians churned as if both disciples were in a life and death fight.

Radeon's devouring art followed. It moved like a hungry tide, seeking the poison and pulling it toward the exits he had made.

Colorful smoke fizzed from the meridians, bright as bruised lantern light.

Tar-like sludge bubbled from the needles that drew from the blood, thick and vile, carrying the bazaar's sweetness turned rotten.

Even without souls, Fay and Good Chip's bodies reacted.

Cold sweat beaded at their brows. Their faces twisted ferocious, jaws tight, as if the flesh remembered craving and was being denied.

Spice Cure went pale at the sight of it. Then her hands betrayed her fear.

She began taking notes anyway, eyes wide, breath short, the aspiring alchemist in her refusing to waste a lesson.

Gauge Point watched with a different horror. Not at the poison, but at himself. His earlier doubt felt smaller now.

He did not let himself reason it was just one time. He corrected himself right away.

Gauge Point drilled into his mind that if he wanted to fathom what was really going on, then he needed evidence before throwing accusations.

"Do not weigh a man's deeds with a villain's heart," he muttered.

Not wanting to waste time, he studied Radeon's technique. He used the moment to decide if being a medical practitioner might be suited for him.

When the last of the tar bubbled free, Fay and Good Chip looked gaunt.

Like starved people who had not eaten in weeks, hollowed by the appetite they had been fed.

Radeon straightened.

"Put their souls back," he said to Calyx. Then he pointed at Spice Cure and Gauge Point. "Fetch water. No food. Not even if they beg."

Calyx did as told. He guided each soul back into its body with a careful fit.

Fay's lashes fluttered. Good Chip's lips parted on a broken breath.

Hunger hit them at once. Thirst too. A savage need that made their fingers twitch.

They tried to rise. Their joints protested, extremely dry, like rusted hinges without oil.

Radeon beckoned. A few ghosts brought a makeshift stretcher. With qi he lifted both disciples onto it and eased them down.

He had cleared the filth, but their tongues and bellies would still rebel.

If they ate now, even a master chef's dish would taste like candle wax and cow dung.

Water was the only mercy their bodies could understand for a while.

Gauge Point looked ready to ask a dozen questions. He glanced at Radeon, at the five cultivators, then swallowed them for now.

Too many eyes were here. Too much shame hung on the five. He moved instead, taking Good Chip's side and lifting as he was told.

Radeon's gaze returned to the five wraiths.

"You five," he said. "Come with me."

He turned toward his pavilion, and the ghosts followed, knowing the next lesson would not be as gentle as water.

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