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Sorasa Sarn rolled out onto the cold floor and Dom’s vision slanted, his head spinning.

Ronin laughed, the sound like shattering glass.

“Honestly, I expected more from an Amhara.”

Something snapped in Domacridhan, bone-deep. Like an earthquake breaking a mountain. He knew only fury, only rage. He felt nothing, not even the snapping of the chains around his wrist, the steel links shearing apart beneath his own force. Whatever immortal soul he carried disappeared, reducing him to little more than beast. Six harried, terrified heartbeats thrummed alongside his own. The knights and guards looked on him as they would a monster, the whites of their eyes flaring. Sigil’s heart raged, mirroring her anger.

But Ronin’s heartbeat remained even.

The wizard was not afraid.

Weakly, beneath the rest, another heart drummed. Steady but slow. And stubbornly alive.

“Sorasa,SORASA!” Sigil’s cry rebounded off the walls, her voice coming from seemingly everywhere.

Dom’s free hand went to his collar, his fingers working to grip the metal edge.

“She’s alive,” he bit out.

It calmed Sigil, but only a little.

“Tsk, tsk, Domacridhan,” the wizard said, ticking his head back and forth. With another twitch of his fingers, he gestured to the knights again.

Wide-eyed as they were, they locked Sorasa in her cell and made for Dom.

Metal groaned as Dom pulled away the collar, its screws tearing out of the stone behind him. With both shoulders and one arm free, he went for his other wrist next.

The jailer’s key jingled closer, the lock on his cell door clicking open, and three of the knights surged in. Dom caught the first knight by the gauntlet, his open palm wrapping around an armored wrist.

In the corridor, the fourth knight yelped, coming too close to Sigil’s cell. She moved lightning fast, thrusting an arm through the bars to grab him around his throat.

The other knights surrounded Dom, leaving their compatriot to fend for himself as they overwhelmed the immortal. To his surprise, they left their swords sheathed, using all their weight to pin his arm back against the wall.

Dom cursed them in his own language, loosing five hundred years of immortal rage. His teeth snapped, inches from their armor, fighting to find any gap of skin. Desperation set in slowly, his window of opportunity disappearing with every passing second.

One of the knights put his forearm to Dom’s neck, throwing all his weight into it. Steel slammed against his throat.

“You accomplished nothing but a few new bruises,” Ronin said abovethe din. He stood at the bars of Dom’s cell, leering with his red stare. One hand still clenched the cane.

The other hung at his side, his fingers gnarled like white roots.

Dom tried to choke out a retort but failed. He hissed, giving one last lurch to throw off the three knights. It was no use. They held firm, their armor crushing him against the stone wall.

Ronin’s voice went slow, syrupy, as if traveling through dark water. Dom fought to keep his eyes open while his lungs screamed for air.

“I’d wish you sweet dreams,” the wizard said. His face wavered, until there was only his eyes, two pinpricks of bright red in a white moon. “But there are only nightmares ahead of you, Domacridhan.”

The white fingers twitched, and Dom felt like he was falling, drowning. Dying.

The blackness swallowed him up.

When he woke, there was a new collar and a new chain around his wrist. The steel gleamed into the semidark, catching the smallest ebbs of light from the distant, flickering torch. He tested both, neck straining, arm tight. Neither gave.

Across the passage, Sigil sat against the wall of her cell. Like the steel, her open eyes caught the scarce light. With a sigh, she raised her bound wrists, showing off a tightly wound leather cord.

Dom frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Well I’minsulted,” she said, her voice thick and groggy. “You’re nailed to a wall and Sorasa is drugged into oblivion. But Sigil of the Temurijon is just another prisoner.”