The day dragged to its weary end, heavy and unending. Another estate in Ivelia had been set ablaze, the city had fallen. The omegas — some slain, others bound in chains — were gone, while the strongest alphas were thrown onto wagons, carried away to grim Sarmael: to mines and quarries, to exhausting toil, and for some, to brothels or servitude in noble houses. Among the captives walked Daniel. Two guards dragged him forward, his hands shackled, his head bowed low. He wore only torn, dirt-stained trousers; his bare chest, traced with scars, bore witness to past suffering and a spirit not yet broken. He was led into one of Sarmael’s grand estates — beautiful, noble, and coldly indifferent. A rough shove from the guards forced him across the threshold