The return to Aurelius felt different than any homecoming should. When they had left the capital weeks ago, they were a task force with a mission—find the source of the Wraith attacks, eliminate the threat, return victorious. Simple. Clear. The kind of assignment that built reputations and earned commendations.
But the seven people who rode through the city gates were not the same ones who had left. They were harder now, quieter, carrying invisible wounds that no healer could address. They had seen things that would haunt them. Done things that would change them. And they had all watched Kami Van Hellsin become something that terrified them even as it saved their lives.
The Academy sent an escort to meet them at the gates—not an honor guard but something closer to a containment unit. Twenty elite guards with Pneuma signatures that marked them as Masters in training, all of them watching Kami with the kind of careful attention you would give a dangerous animal that might bolt at any moment. They were not hostile exactly, but they were ready. Ready for him to lose control, ready to fight if necessary, ready to die if that was what it took to protect the city from what he might become.
Kami felt their fear and could not blame them for it. He had consumed hundreds of Wraiths and nearly drained Archimedes completely. His Pneuma capacity had expanded so dramatically that even suppressed, his presence made sensitive individuals uncomfortable. He could feel the city's collective life force pressing against his senses, thousands upon thousands of Pneuma signatures creating a constant pressure that made the hunger whisper suggestions he had to actively fight to ignore.
Just a little from each person. They would never notice. You would become so strong that no one could ever threaten you again. You would never have to be afraid or controlled or watched like a prisoner. You could finally be free.
But freedom bought through feeding on innocents was not freedom. It was surrender. It was becoming exactly what the hunger wanted him to be, and Kami had not fought this long just to give up now.
Thorwald rode beside him, as he always did, his presence a steady anchor that helped Kami maintain focus. His brother had not spoken much during the journey back, but he stayed close, and that was enough. Some wounds were too deep for words anyway.
They brought Archimedes straight to the Tower of Observation, to the sealed chambers beneath the Academy where the Empire kept things too dangerous to destroy but too valuable to leave unsupervised. The old philosopher was still weak, barely conscious, his Pneuma reserves recovering at a crawl because Kami had drained him so thoroughly. Two Master-level healers worked on him under heavy guard, not to save his life—he was stable enough—but to ensure he lived long enough to face trial and share whatever knowledge he possessed about creating artificial Devourers.
The task force was separated immediately. Standard procedure after any major mission, they were told. Individual debriefings to ensure accurate accounts before memories had time to blur or align. But everyone knew the real reason. The Masters wanted to hear each person's version of what Kami had done in that mountain laboratory, wanted to see if the stories matched, wanted to determine whether he had truly maintained enough control or if what they feared most had actually happened.
Kami was brought before the Seven Masters in a chamber he had never seen before—deep in the Tower's lower levels, a circular room carved from solid stone with walls inscribed in Pneuma arrays designed to suppress and contain. This was not a meeting room. This was a courtroom, or perhaps an execution chamber, and the distinction probably depended on how the next few hours went.
The Seven Masters sat in a semicircle, with Grand Master Maximus at the center. The old man looked even more ancient than when Kami had last seen him, as though the weight of difficult decisions was aging him faster than time itself. To his right sat Master Quintus in crimson robes, the combat specialist whose scarred face showed no emotion. To his left, Mistress Octavia in purple, the unconventional applications expert who studied Kami with the clinical interest of someone examining a fascinating but dangerous specimen. The others—Livia, Hadrian, Severus, and Portia—flanked them, forming a wall of judgment that Kami would have to face alone.
"Kami Van Hellsin," Maximus said, his voice heavy with something that might have been disappointment or might have been resignation. "You have completed your mission. The source of the Wraith attacks has been neutralized. Archimedes of the Broken Circle is in custody. The laboratory has been destroyed. By any objective measure, you have succeeded."
Kami waited. There was a "but" coming. There was always a "but" when people talked to him this way.
"But," Maximus continued, "the reports we have received from your companions paint a concerning picture. You embraced your Devourer nature fully. Stopped suppressing your abilities. Consumed dozens of Wraiths and nearly drained a Master-level Pneuma wielder completely. You showed everyone present what you truly are when all restraint is removed." He leaned forward. "Tell me, in your own words, what happened in that laboratory. And do not lie. We will know."
So Kami told them. He described the battle, the impossible odds, his companions being overwhelmed. He explained how he had made a choice—embrace his nature fully or watch everyone die. He admitted that he had lost himself for a time, that the hunger had taken control, that he had been moments away from turning on his own team before Thorwald's presence pulled him back.
He told them everything because there was no point in lying. They would hear the same story from six other sources, and any discrepancy would be treated as evidence that he was hiding something worse.
When he finished, silence filled the chamber. The Masters exchanged glances, communicating in the wordless way that people who had worked together for decades could manage.
Finally, Master Severus spoke, his voice as cold as his black robes. "What you describe is exactly the scenario we have feared since you first came to this Academy. You lost control. Became a threat to your own allies. Only blind luck and your brother's presence prevented a massacre."
"It was not luck," Kami said quietly. "It was choice. I chose to stop. I chose to pull the hunger back. That is the entire point of everything I have done, everything I have worked for—proving that Devourers can choose."
"But you almost did not choose," Severus countered. "You admit you were moments away from attacking your companions. What happens next time when your brother is not there? When circumstances are different? When the hunger is stronger because you have fed it so thoroughly this time?"
"I do not know," Kami admitted, because honesty was the only weapon he had left. "I do not know if I can maintain control forever. I do not know if there will come a day when the hunger wins. But I do know that I fought it this time, and I will fight it next time, and the time after that. For as long as I can, I will choose to be human instead of monster, even when being a monster would be easier."
"That may not be enough," Master Quintus said. "The Empire cannot function on hope and good intentions. We need certainty. Guarantees. You have become too powerful, boy. You consumed enough Pneuma in that laboratory to rival any of us in raw capacity. You have learned techniques that should not exist. You are, in essence, a walking weapon of mass destruction that we can only pray continues to cooperate with us."
"So what would you have me do?" Kami asked. "Return to the Tower? Submit to permanent observation? Surrender the freedom I earned through years of perfect service?"
"We would have you accept supervision," Mistress Portia said, her administrator's mind already planning logistics. "A permanent guard detail. Regular evaluations. Mandatory check-ins with Academy healers who can monitor your Pneuma capacity and mental state. Restrictions on the types of missions you can accept, the situations you can be exposed to. Structure. Control. Safety."
"A cage," Kami said flatly. "You are describing a cage with extra steps."
"We are describing the only way the Empire can continue to trust you," Portia replied. "You have proven you can save lives. You have also proven you can nearly lose control and become a threat. Both things are true. We must account for both."
Master Hadrian, who had always been kind to Kami during his medical training, spoke with genuine regret in his voice. "You are asking us to balance the value you provide against the risk you represent. And Kami, the math is becoming difficult. Every time you feed, you grow stronger. Every time you grow stronger, the potential damage if you lose control increases. There may come a point where the risk outweighs the value, regardless of your intentions or track record."
"Then that day has not come yet," Grand Master Maximus said, his voice cutting through the discussion with the authority that came from decades of leadership. "Kami Van Hellsin saved his companions and completed his mission. He maintained enough control to stop himself from becoming a threat. These are facts. Yes, he came close to losing control. Yes, he has become significantly more powerful. But he has also proven once again that choice matters to him, that he will fight his nature even when that fight costs him everything."
Maximus stood, his ancient body moving with surprising grace. "The Seven Masters will deliberate on appropriate measures. But understand, Kami—you have used up mercy. There will be no more chances after this. The next time you lose control, even for a moment, even if you pull yourself back—the next time will be the last time. The Empire will eliminate you as a threat, and I will not be able to stop it. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Kami said.
"Then you are dismissed. Remain in the city while we deliberate. Do not leave Academy grounds. Do not interact with civilians. Consider yourself under house arrest until we determine what measures are necessary."
Kami was escorted back to his old tower room by four guards who maintained careful distance, their Pneuma signatures indicating they were ready to fight at a moment's notice. The room looked exactly as he had left it years ago—circular, windows on all sides, comfortable but isolating. His cage, returned to.
He stood at the window and looked out over Aurelius, over the city he had bled to protect, and he felt something break inside him. Not his control. Not his discipline. But something else. Some last fragment of naive hope that maybe, eventually, people would see him as something other than a threat that needed management.
He had saved thousands of lives over the past two years. Cured diseases that conventional healers could not touch. Destroyed weapons that would have killed entire Legions. He had fought his nature every single day, had chosen mercy when feeding would have been easier, had proven over and over that Devourers could be more than monsters.
And none of it mattered. He was still the thing they feared, still the weapon they wanted to chain, still the abomination that existed on sufferance and could be eliminated the moment he became more trouble than he was worth.
A knock at the door interrupted his dark thoughts. Thorwald entered, his Centurion armor replaced with simple training clothes, his golden Pneuma subdued but still warm and steady as sunlight.
"They separated us for debriefing," Thorwald said, sitting on the window ledge beside his brother. "Made me describe everything that happened. What you did. How close you came to losing control." He paused. "I told them the truth. That you scared me. That for the first time in my life, I thought I might have to fight my own brother and that I was not sure I would win."
"I am sorry," Kami said quietly. "I never wanted you to fear me."
"I do not fear you," Thorwald corrected. "I fear what you might become if you ever stop fighting. But you, Kami, my brother—I do not fear you. I trust you. I believe in you. And I will stand beside you regardless of what the Masters decide, because that is what brothers do."
They sat in silence for a long moment, watching the sun set over the city. Then Thorwald spoke again, his voice thoughtful. "Do you remember when we were children? Before the Academy? You asked me once why I was not afraid of you like everyone else was."
"I remember."
"I told you it was because you were my brother, and that was enough. But that was not the complete truth. Want to know the real reason?"
Kami looked at him, waiting.
"It is because I saw something in you that no one else did. You were born with this terrible power, this hunger that should have made you a monster. But every day, you chose not to be. You chose to fight your nature, to struggle against instincts that most people never have to think about. And I realized that someone who has to fight that hard just to be decent, who has to work that much just to be good—that person has more humanity than most people ever develop. Because most people never have to choose. They just are what they are. But you choose, every moment of every day. And that makes you the most human person I know, even if you are also the most dangerous."
Kami felt something tight in his chest loosen slightly. His brother understood. Had always understood. Even when Kami himself was not sure anymore, Thorwald could see past the power and the hunger to the person underneath who was still fighting.
"Thank you," Kami said, and his voice was rougher than he intended. "I do not say that enough. Thank you for believing in me when I cannot always believe in myself."
"That is what brothers are for."
Over the next three days, while Kami remained confined to the Tower, the rest of the task force gave their testimony before the Masters. He did not see any of them, but he could imagine what they were saying. Julia, describing how Kami had nearly turned on them, her healer's instincts still processing the trauma of thinking she was about to be drained by someone she had trusted. Marcus and Cassia, giving tactical assessments of his capabilities, documenting exactly how powerful he had become. Decimus, probably arguing that Kami should be given a medal and left alone because he had saved all their lives. And Cassius—Cassius would be measured and fair, acknowledging both the value and the danger, his Tiberion training making him incapable of lying even when he might want to.
On the fourth day, Kami was summoned back before the Seven Masters. Thorwald was allowed to attend, standing slightly behind and to the left, his presence a reminder that Kami was not completely alone in this.
Grand Master Maximus stood, his ancient face showing the weight of difficult decisions made. "The Seven Masters have deliberated. We have reviewed all testimony, analyzed all available data, and consulted with Imperial authorities regarding the legal and practical implications of your continued service. We have reached a decision."
Kami waited, his hands clenched at his sides, preparing himself for whatever judgment was about to fall.
"You will be allowed to continue serving as an Imperial Physician," Maximus said. "Your value to the Empire has been deemed sufficient to outweigh the risks you present. However, this continuation comes with conditions."
Of course there were conditions. There were always conditions.
"First, you will accept a permanent escort detail. Not guards to imprison you, but specialists to support and if necessary restrain you should you begin to lose control. They will accompany you on all missions and will have authority to override your decisions if they determine you are becoming a threat."
"Second, you will submit to monthly evaluations with Master Hadrian and myself. We will monitor your Pneuma capacity, assess your mental state, and determine if you are maintaining adequate control. These evaluations are mandatory and non-negotiable."
"Third, you are prohibited from accepting missions that would expose you to massive Pneuma sources or situations likely to require you to feed extensively. No more plague outbreaks. No more Wraith hordes. You will handle smaller-scale threats where the risk of you losing control is minimal."
"Fourth, Centurion Thorwald Van Hellsin will be formally designated as your restraint anchor. Should you begin to lose control, he is authorized to use any means necessary to stop you, up to and including lethal force. He has accepted this responsibility."
Kami glanced at his brother, who nodded solemnly. They had discussed this possibility. Thorwald had volunteered for the role before it was even offered, wanting to be the one who would stop Kami if stopping became necessary, because if it had to happen, better it be someone who loved him than a stranger who would see only a monster.
"Do you accept these conditions?" Maximus asked. "Or do you wish to refuse service and submit to permanent containment in the Tower?"
It was not really a choice. Accept the conditions and maintain some measure of freedom, or refuse and be imprisoned for the rest of his life. But at least they were giving him the illusion of choice, the pretense that he had some agency in determining his own fate.
"I accept," Kami said.
"Then this matter is concluded. You are reinstated to active service effective immediately, subject to the conditions stated. Dismissed."
As they left the chamber, Thorwald walked close beside him, their shoulders nearly touching. "It could have been worse," he said quietly. "They could have locked you away. Decided you were too dangerous. This way, at least you can still help people."
"Help people under constant supervision while being prevented from handling the cases where I could do the most good," Kami replied. "It is a cage, Thorwald. Just a larger one with better decoration."
"Then we make the most of it. We do good work within the constraints they have imposed. We prove that you can be trusted even with limitations. And maybe, eventually, those limitations loosen."
"Or maybe they tighten until the cage becomes a cell and I spend the rest of my life in that Tower, alone with my hunger, slowly going mad from the isolation and the constant fighting."
Thorwald stopped walking and turned to face his brother directly. "That will not happen. I will not let it happen. You are not alone in this, Kami. You never have been. And as long as I am breathing, you will never face your demons by yourself."
Kami looked at his brother—golden and bright and everything good that Kami could never be—and felt a gratitude so profound it hurt. Thorwald had sacrificed his own career prospects by accepting the role of restraint anchor. Centurions who served as babysitters for potentially dangerous Pneuma wielders did not advance to general rank, did not earn the glory and commendations that led to political power. Thorwald had chosen his brother over his ambitions without hesitation, and that choice meant more than any amount of praise or approval from the Masters ever could.
"Thank you," Kami said again, because those were the only words that felt adequate. "For everything. For always."
"Always," Thorwald agreed. "That is what brothers mean."
They returned to Kami's tower room to gather his belongings. He would be moving to different quarters now, ones closer to where Thorwald's century was stationed, so the restraint anchor arrangement could function properly. As they packed, Kami found himself looking around the circular chamber one last time, this room that had been his home and prison for years.
So much had happened here. So many nights spent fighting the hunger, watching the city lights and wondering if he would ever truly be free. So many visits from Thorwald, conversations that kept him anchored to humanity. So many hours of meditation and discipline, learning to cage the monster inside him.
And now he was leaving it behind, moving to a new cage that came with new constraints. Progress, of a sort. Or maybe just a different form of containment, packaged to look like opportunity.
As they descended the Tower stairs, passing guards who watched Kami with wary eyes, he thought about what Maximus had said. No more chances. The next loss of control would be his last. They would eliminate him without hesitation, without trial, without any consideration for his years of service or his struggle to maintain humanity.
One mistake. One moment of weakness. One failure of discipline, and everything ended.
Most people did not live like that. Most people were allowed to make mistakes, to have bad days, to occasionally lose their temper without it being a death sentence. But Kami was not most people. He was a Devourer, and that meant perfection was the only acceptable standard. Anything less was evidence that he was too dangerous to live.
It was exhausting. The constant vigilance, the endless discipline, the knowledge that he could never afford to truly relax or let his guard down. Every moment was a choice between humanity and hunger, and he was expected to choose correctly every single time, forever, without any margin for error.
But what else could he do? Give up? Surrender to what the hunger wanted him to be? Become the monster everyone feared and prove that they had been right about him all along?
No. He would keep fighting. Would keep choosing. Would maintain control until the day he could not anymore, and then he would hope that Thorwald was there to stop him before he hurt anyone innocent.
It was not much of a plan. It was not much of a life, really. But it was all he had. And so he would walk this path, wearing chains disguised as duty, serving an Empire that feared him, helping people who would never see him as anything other than a barely contained threat.
Because the alternative was unthinkable. Because he had promised himself years ago that he would be more than his nature. Because his brother believed in him, and that belief was worth fighting for even when he could not believe in himself.
And because somewhere, deep beneath the hunger and the fear and the exhaustion, there was still a part of Kami Van Hellsin that remembered being a child who wanted nothing more than to be good, to be normal, to be loved without terror. That part was buried deep now, crushed beneath years of discipline and compromise and necessary cruelty. But it was not gone. Not quite. Not yet.
And as long as that part remained, Kami would keep fighting. Would keep choosing humanity over hunger, mercy over feeding, control over power.
For however long he could. For as many days as remained to him. Until the inevitable day when his will finally broke and the monster won and someone who loved him would have to kill him to save others from what he had become.
But that day was not today. Today, he was still Kami Van Hellsin, Imperial Physician, brother to Thorwald, servant of the Empire. Today, he was still human.
And tomorrow, he would wake up and fight to remain that way for one more day.
That was all anyone could ask of him. That was all he could ask of himself.
One day at a time. One choice at a time. One victory over his nature at a time.
Until there were no more days left to fight.