Esu woke to the taste of iron in his mouth and the stink of two hundred unwashed bodies. The servant dorm was a stone box with straw mats so thin you felt every crack in the floor. His ribs had scabbed over during the night, but the bones still shifted wrong when he breathed. Layer 1 gave him a spark no bigger than a dying coal—enough to sense killing intent if it was aimed at his back, not enough to stop a fist.
He sat up slow. Lami Okoye of the fallen Okoye traders from Benin border, zero blood, father sold him for three silver ingots was already folding his mat with shaking hands. The fever poison Esu slipped into his gourd three nights ago had done its job: hallucinations of snakes under skin, screams that woke half the dorm, and gratitude deeper than family when Esu "held him down" through the worst of it.
"Morning, brother Jide," Lami whispered, eyes red but shining. "Guru Hassan posted jobs. Quarry again. Stone blocks for the new east wall."
Esu nodded, throat dry. "Eat first."
Breakfast line was a fight. Guru Hassan a fat toad from the Hassan merchant clan, thin earth blood that let him sense lies in contracts stood at the pot doling out yam slop like it was gold. Servants bowed, scraped, took half-bowls if they were late.
Esu and Lami got full ones because Lami had "fainted" near Hassan's feet yesterday. The toad liked broken things he could step on later.
They ate in silence, backs against the wall. Esu saved a fist-sized chunk of yam, wrapped it in cloth. Food was currency. Food was life.
The march to the quarry took an hour grey robes shuffling behind two guards with shock-collars remote in hand. The collars were the loophole that kept servants slaves: thin iron bands locked at the gate, keyed to Ase. Try to run, try to fight, try to use even a spark without permission lightning cooked your neck from inside. Esu felt his collar every second, cold metal kissing the cut from yesterday's whip.
The quarry was a scar in the earth: black stone blocks carved by Ògún-blooded slaves generations ago, each one heavy with leftover clay essence. Normal men needed teams to move them. Servants did it alone.
Guru Hassan barked orders. "Ten blocks to the masons by lunch! Slow rats get no water!"
Esu looped the rope harness over bleeding shoulders. The first block dragged like it was chained to the planet. His ribs ground. Sweat stung the whip-cut on his face.
Lami struggled beside him, face purple with effort. "Heavy… why is it heavier than yesterday?"
"Because the masons pour clay dust on them at night," Esu muttered. "Keeps the wall strong. Keeps us weak."
Outer disciples watched from the finished wall above silk robes, clean boots, laughing. Kano Ibrahim was there again, third son of the Ibrahim forge clan, metal blood thick enough to harden skin. He had broken three servants last week for "looking at him wrong."
Today he picked Lami.
"Hey, Benin rat!" Kano jumped down, landed light. "Your block's slow. Need help?"
Lami froze. "No, young master Ibrahim. I-"
Kano kicked the block. It rolled back, crushed Lami's foot. Bone snapped loud as green wood.
Lami screamed, fell. Blood soaked the dirt.
Esu kept pulling his own block. Head down. Heart cold.
Kano laughed. "That's for staring at my sister yesterday."
Lami sobbed, trying to stand. The collar sparked warning pain lanced his neck.
Guru Hassan looked over, grinned yellow. "Keep working, Benin rat. Or no food."
Esu finished his first block, started the second. Blood dripped from his shoulders into the dirt.
Kano's eyes found him. "You. Survivor trash. Help your friend or I'll break both feet."
Esu dropped the rope. Walked over slow.
Kano shoved him. "Carry him. Make it funny."
Esu bent, lifted Lami over one shoulder. The boy's blood soaked his robe hot and sticky. Lami whimpered apologies in his ear.
Kano and his pack laughed. One threw a rock hit Esu's cracked ribs. Pain white-hot.
They made him carry Lami the full quarry loop two hundred steps while they threw stones and insults. Guards watched, took bets in coppers.
Every step fed the spark.
Not floating echoes. Blood essence soaked in terror.
Lami's blood dripped down Esu's back, mixed with his own sweat. The fear wasn't air it was liquid. Raw. Childhood memories of fever tents, father's sale papers, the gate guard's laugh when Lami begged.
Esu drank it through skin. Through the cuts. Through the spark that hungered like a leech.
By the end, Lami passed out. Esu laid him in shade, collar sparking warning for both.
Kano spat. "Pathetic. Tomorrow I'll break the other foot."
They left.
Guru Hassan waddled over. "No water for slow rats. Back to work."
Esu pulled thirteen blocks that afternoon. Alone. Shoulders raw meat. Footing slippery with blood.
When the sun dropped, they marched back. Lami limped on a stick Esu carved, face grey with pain.
Dorm night. Healer wouldn't see servants without five coppers. Lami cried quiet.
Esu cleaned the foot with stolen water. Bone poked through skin. Infection by morning.
"I'll fix it," Esu whispered. "Trust me, brother."
Lami nodded, tears cutting dirt tracks. "Always, Jide."
Esu mixed red herb powder stolen from the fields into Lami's water gourd. Slow poison this time. Not death. Just enough fever to keep him bed-bound tomorrow.
When Lami drank, Esu pressed the broken foot gentle. Harvested the fresh wave pain, betrayal fear starting to bud.
Spark throbbed heavy now. Almost painful.
Still Layer 1.
But the blood remembered.
Tomorrow Kano Ibrahim would want more fun.
Esu would give it.
One broken bone at a time.
The rat learned to bleed on purpose.
Because blood was the only honest thing in Oyo Enclave.