The deathly stare between Jason and Vindarion lingered for several seconds.

  A silence passed between them—one that carried more meaning than any exchange of words ever could.

  A smirk crept onto Vindarion’s lips. He straightened and turned his gaze toward the direction Tahuuk had fled.

  “Alright. We’re done here,” he said calmly. “Bring him along. We’ll see if we can send off our guests—preferably with what they came for.”

  A soldier saluted and seized Jason, throwing him into a dropship parked nearby. It wasn’t a vessel meant for spaceflight—its rear was lined with wide windows, offering full visibility of the outside.

  Jason grunted as he forced himself upright and took a seat. Two soldiers flanked him, another sat across. Through the open ramp, he watched Vindarion conclude his business with what remained of the Grey Sight Guild. Credits transferred. Greedy smiles followed.

  Vindarion passed Jason without slowing, his gaze brushing over him as he moved to the front of the dropship and took a passenger seat behind the pilot.

  The engines hummed to life.

  The ship lifted, vibrations rippling through the cabin as it pushed forward. Jason watched the world slide past the windows—the construction site, the open square beyond it, then the half-finished buildings farther back. Dropships bearing the markings of the Eastern Dominion had landed there, their rear ramps already lowered.

  Bodies came into view.

  Eastern Dominion soldiers. At least ten.

  Smoke began to obscure the windows as fuel tanks detonated, fire blooming in short, violent bursts.

  The dropship descended again, angling toward an open stretch of ground not far ahead. More bodies appeared—seven more. Some lay motionless. Others shifted weakly, groaning.

  The ship touched down with a dull thud.

  The soldier seated opposite Jason rose and moved to the ramp. When it opened, he exited alone. The two remaining guards never took their eyes off Jason, weapons clenched tightly in their hands.

  Vindarion stepped out next, approaching two Eastern Dominion nobles waiting nearby.

  From what Jason could tell, Vindarion’s soldiers had escorted them here—now standing intermingled with their own. Jason couldn’t hear the conversation, only see gestures and expressions. Smiles. Bright ones.

  They spoke as equals.

  Jason barely registered it. His eyes searched the area instead—looking for Tahuuk, Sakura, Haruko.

  He saw none of them.

  The nobles’ smiles told him enough. They had succeeded in their objective. Sakura or Haruko had been taken—or killed.

  Of Tahuuk, Jason knew nothing.

  Vindarion and the nobles shook hands cordially, exchanged nods, and returned to their respective dropships. The Eastern Dominion nobles moved to the front seats. Vindarion followed—then stopped.

  He leaned into the ramp and looked at Jason.

  “Now that my obligation here is finished…” His smile returned, thin and pleased.

  “We can begin with you.”

  He tilted his head slightly.

  “Let’s take you to my prison—where I torture people of interest for information.”

  A pause.

  “We’re going to have a lot of fun.”

  The smile vanished. Vindarion turned away and took his seat.

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  It was then that the reality settled in.

  Jason had no time to worry about Tahuuk. Or Sakura. Or anyone else.

  He was in danger now.

  He needed a way out—but for the moment, all he could do was plan in his head. Any sudden movement would be noticed immediately. His hands were still bound in electric cuffs, three soldiers watching his every breath.

  The ship lifted again.

  As it prepared to leave, the soldier opposite Jason stepped forward and pulled a thick bag over his head, cutting off his vision entirely.

  Sound became his only anchor.

  The low tremor of engines. Occasional shifts in momentum. It lasted for hours. During the final stretch, the temperature dropped noticeably. His breath warmed the fabric of the hood as his body began to shiver.

  The ship slowed.

  A final thud signaled landing.

  Hands gripped him and dragged him forward. Vindarion walked ahead, flanked by additional guards. Jason listened—boots on metal, armor creaking, voices echoing in controlled cadence.

  He noticed gaps. Openings.

  But his restraints punished even the smallest attempt at movement.

  Then his feet touched something new.

  Cold.

  Granular.

  Sand.

  No—snow.

  It lasted only a few dozen steps before hard flooring replaced it. Metal groaned as a massive door opened. They moved inside and stopped.

  A harsh red light washed over Jason from head to toe—then reversed.

  “All clear,” a woman said as the light shut off. “You can proceed.”

  They moved on.

  Doors opened and slammed shut somewhere ahead, the echoes stretching through humid corridors. From one side, warm air drifted past him—along with laughter and raised voices.

  They didn’t stop.

  They continued forward.

  Then downward.

  Jason was guided down a long stairway. The cold from earlier now felt almost mild by comparison. His feet began to numb.

  At the bottom, the air thickened.

  Grunts echoed nearby. A moldy stench clung to every breath. Liquid dripped somewhere close.

  Farther ahead, screams rose.

  Some cut off quickly.

  Others stretched on—layered with sobbing and pleas—until a heavy metal door slammed shut and the noise died instantly.

  Footsteps approached.

  “Where can we put him?” Vindarion asked.

  “Up here. Beside this group should do,” another man replied. “No other empty cells at the moment.”

  The bag was ripped from Jason’s head.

  Metal scraped loudly as a cell door opened. He was shoved forward, forced onto his knees as the cuffs were removed. A sharp kick to his back sent him sprawling inside.

  The door slammed shut.

  Jason turned just in time to see Vindarion looking down at him through the bars, disdain flickering across his face before he turned and walked away.

  Only then did Jason truly see where he was.

  To his right—a lone man beaten nearly beyond recognition. His face was swollen, his body a map of scars.

  To his left—a cell holding three prisoners.

  A massive, broad-shouldered man.

  An older one with an unruly beard streaked with gray.

  And another, not much older than Jason himself.

  “We have new guest…”

  The older man spoke in a low, rough voice. Each word trembled, as if pulled from him with effort rather than breath.

  Jason met his gaze briefly, then returned to scanning the cell block, committing angles and distances to memory. The man stepped closer to the bars separating them.

  “Tell me your name,” he said. “I am Aleksey. The big man is Sergei. The small one is Niko.”

  A pause.

  “We have been here… long time.”

  Jason felt his tension ease—not fully, but enough.

  “Jason,” he said. “I’m Jason.”

  Aleksey studied him for a moment.

  “Well, Jason. I see the lord does not like you much.” His lips twitched faintly. “Did you do something to him?”

  Jason hesitated.

  Then answered.

  “I… may have helped cause his brother’s death.”

  Aleksey’s eyes widened, surprise flashing through the fatigue. Then he nodded—slow, deliberate.

  “That is good,” he said quietly. “We can use you.”

  Jason frowned.

  “What do you mean?”

  Aleksey smiled.

  His teeth were yellow, worn down by time and neglect—but the smile itself was sharp.

  “Soon,” he said.

  “…we will escape.”