"Please, Aylin. Let me out."
Jiang heard the plea through his shoulder.
He was still braced beneath Kaul's blade, feet sliding on the root wall while the current pressed him against the open joint. The thorn cage floated beside his face. Each time the cloth moved, his old human voice traveled through the water and entered his bones.
"You know me," it said.
Aylin's answer came from the root mouth. "I know what that voice was taken from."
The copy went quiet.
Jiang wished it had sounded monstrous. He wished it had laughed with someone else's mouth or promised him power. Instead it sounded tired, frightened, and almost embarrassed to need help.
It sounded like him on bad nights.
That was why the choice hurt.
Kaul's blade shifted above Jiang's shoulder. Black-green tissue squeezed around the metal, closing the seam one wet fiber at a time. If the blade came free, the feeder could return to Kaul's living strand. If they left it buried, the current would pull Jiang deeper with it.
