The dungeon stank of blood and damp stone. Chains clinked whenever Valerius shifted, iron biting deep into his wrists and ankles. His body was a map of fresh lash marks, each welt still burning with the residue of the Dominion’s cruelty.

He had stopped counting the hours. Days blurred together in a haze of agony and silence, broken only by the echo of guards jeering or the crack of whips across his back.

Then something soft slid under the bars.

Valerius lifted his head, eyes narrowing ...