Spirit town was dying.

Fela saw it, knew it. Even after a day, two days, the vibrancy of the streets was fading, decaying.

The rich flora that covered the district had begun to wilt, the vibrant green of the canopy tinged with gray.

The faces of the spirits that passed Fela on the street looked haggard. There was a bustle, a sense of productivity that now seemed muted. Worry laced the air, and exhaustion.

Marks served to distinguish spirits from humans, their horns and claws a badge of things more mystic.

Fela saw this divide surge open, the way spirits looked almost sickly next to their human neighbors.

It went beyond the Marks: on the street, an older woman stopped to help a young man who had stumbled onto the street, panting. Even without the feathers that adorned his head and arms, he looked pale and tired, lifeless compared to his helper. Once colorful, they had darkened to muted browns, brassy yellows that were once striking.

His feathers shook loose, floated down and settled on the ground as he slowly rose and walked away, supported by the woman.

Her healthy blush stood out. Around her, most of the faces were pale, drawn, and taunt.

Spirit Town was growing weak, as if struggling through a famine. And yet, in a selective, disjointed way, that's exactly what was plaguing the city.

Still reeling from the destruction of the house and her conversation with Viktor, Fela returned to Viktor's estate the next day with newfound trepidation. She was greeted by an aide, the one who had injured his hand in the corrupted potencia.

Viktor wasn't home, he relayed to her, and directed Fela with a wave of his bandage toward the direction of a nearby wellspring, the latest in the string of corrupted sites.

Much like before, she had found him there, sitting on a bench in front of the now-dry communal fountain. The other ever-present aides swarmed around him, carting away the muck of corruption, but the disaster zone was much smaller than Viktor's pond, or the house.

When she had pointed it out to him, Viktor had responded, telling her that he'd enacted emergency regulations overnight, placing Spirit Town in a strange form of martial law . Shutting down spirit-owned shops, enacting a curfew; Viktor was trying to limit any unnecessary movement within the community.

Fela was also told that potencia rationing was now in effect, limiting each spirit to about a gallon per week. It was jarring how quickly the situation had escalated in just a few days. What would her city look like tomorrow? In a week?

For the first time in her cyclical life, Fela couldn't expect that the world around would stay dependable, preserving its consistency..

"What's happening to the plants?" Fela asked, after a lull in the conversation. She looked around them, the garden plaza that housed the fountain, benches, and the elegant, drooping gas lamps. Now, the stout little trees that framed the park were flaky and dry.

"Do you know what happens when a spirit doesn't have access to potencia?"

Fela nodded. "First comes the loss of abilities, then you lose your Mark. And finally- "

"-nausea, vomiting, then death." Victor finished her thought, quietly.

He turned away from her, gestured to the sickly trees.

"The plants you see have been cultivated by me, given life by my ancestors. The job is passed down to each new generation."

He caught her gaze. "I'm not a Frume-spirit, or a Bestien. I'm something in-between. My element-touch and natural link all tangled up. People like me, Fela... we don't just enhance life, we control it."

She understood what he was implying almost immediately. "So it's the beginning of deprivation for you," Fela said.

Then, suddenly, her temper rose, flaring. It made her bold. "Why aren't you getting enough potencia? I understand if you're doing it out of some heroic notion, but you're Spirit Town's councilman, they need you-"

"Fela." His voice wasn't cold, but it took a firmer edge that silenced her. "My power extends throughout this entire neighborhood. Miles and miles of it. Yes, I have the talent, but the amount of potencia I draw on to do this is enormous, and right now, I can't exactly use as much as I need to support the system. We need potencia to live- this, using it for control, growth, power... it is frivolous in comparison. We must limit its use, cut down." His face softened a bit. "I know you're concerned, and I appreciate that. But losing this is a small price to pay to help the people."

"I didn't know- of course it takes a lot to maintain the city-" She was stuttering now, out of her depth. It was spurned by her embarrassment, as she found herself (again!) shouting at one of the most important men in the entire city. Making a fool of herself, unaware of spirit physiology even a child would know. But despite that, she forced herself to meet his eyes, to file away the information and grow.

"Don't worry," Victor said. "I know just how important it is for me to be here, working to solve this. The Senate is meeting today, and we're organizing a lobbying force to send to Lord Valle." Despite the positive words, his positive expression, the man and the girl both felt a creeping sense of dread settle over them.