It was a few hours before the Dungeons of Achrane came into view, and the moment they did, I realised how wildly off my imagination had been. In my head, a dungeon was just that; some grim, underground pit with rusted bars, torchlit corridors, and miserable guards stomping around in circles. I’d never had a reason to think otherwise. I certainly never expected this.

  What stood before me wasn’t some crumbling hole in the ground. It was a fortress. A monolithic beast of stone that didn’t just occupy the nd. No, it owned it.

  Where the Fracture had drawn my gaze with beauty and mystery, this pce seized it by force. There was nothing poetic about it. No elegance. Just an overwhelming, crushing presence.

  The main structure was built from enormous grey blocks, each the size of a wagon. It looked like it had been built by giants, or perhaps to contain them. The sheer size of the pce made me feel smaller than I ever had before. Every block was punctuated by small barred windows, barely noticeable against the bleak stone. No decorations. No symbols. Just raw functionality. At each corner stood a towering keep, and between them ran a ft-topped wall lined with creneltions. Guards moved steadily along the top, crossbows slung in their arms, silhouettes sharp against the grey sky.

  A second wall, even taller than I was and tipped with wicked spikes, encircled the entire prison like a second skin. It was made of the same unyielding stone, and if I was ever going to escape, I’d have to go over it because there was no way I would manage to go through it. More guards patrolled that outer wall, but these ones had dogs with them. Big ones. Ugly ones. The kind that didn’t bark – they just lunged. I liked dogs, generally. But these ones looked like they’d been raised on a diet of human bones.

  I pressed my face to the window to get a better look, angling up to take in the full scale of it.

  Out of nowhere a truncheon smacked the bars, an inch from my nose. The sudden cng nearly making me jump out of my skin. The guard clinging to the side of the cart ughed.

  “You’ll be gettin’ a good enough look soon, believe me. No need to go stickin’ your oar out and temptin’ my rod.”

  I pulled back from the window and sat down again, trying not to scowl. It was the first thing he’d said to me since hopping onto his post. Every guard had taken a turn riding beside the cart at some point during the journey, but none of them had spoken to me. Not a word. If I hadn’t heard the metal of their boots clinking as they climbed into pce, I might not have even known they were there.

  We rolled to a stop at the front gate where we were greeted by a sharp barked command. A guard shouted something I couldn’t make out, and the driver responded, identifying our purpose. I could hear movement after that. Lots of it. The sound of boots striking stone echoed all around. I got the distinct impression we were being surrounded, and curiosity pushed me to my feet so I could check.

  I barely got my eyes to the window before an armoured knight filled the entire view.

  I flinched. I couldn’t help it. The guy looked like a statue carved for war. Solid. Grim. Not someone you’d want to bump into in a dark alley, or anywhere, really. His helmet came down low over his brow, with a heavy nose-guard that only just allowed me to see the scowl on his face.

  He didn’t say a word. Just stared. Like I was already guilty of something.

  Well, something else.

  Not exactly the warm welcome I’d been hoping for.

  “Name?” the knight demanded, staring at me like I was the reason for every bad thing that had ever happened to him.

  “Brandon Horlock.”

  He didn’t acknowledge the answer. Just scanned the inside of the carriage like he was looking for a second prisoner, then disappeared from view. A few muffled words passed between him and someone outside, and moments ter, we were moving through the gate.

  I craned my neck toward the bars as we rolled forward and caught sight of an entire row of crossbows aimed right at me. Dozens of guards, all standing at the ready. It was a show of force, and it worked. The weight of it all finally began to sink in.

  This wasn’t just a trip. This wasn’t a stopover or a warning. I was arriving at the st destination on the road. The pce we send the people too dangerous to roam free. The kind of people who need walls, chains, and armed guards just to be tolerated. This was where vilins went to die.

  I’d always thought of that sort of pce as far-off. Abstract. But here I was. About to walk among them. About to be one of them. And if I wasn’t careful, I’d die right alongside them.

  The carriage came to a stop with a heavy jolt, and the door was thrown open. A guard stepped in, unhooked my chains, and yanked me out with all the grace of tossing out the trash. I hit the ground hard, and before I could even gather my bearings, I was staring up at a line of knights with swords drawn and zero emotion in their eyes.

  “Brandon Horlock, you have forfeited your right to live in society for a term of thirty-two years.”

  None of the knights moved their mouths, so I gnced to the side to see who was speaking.

  Big mistake.

  A boot smmed into my ribs and I heard something crack. Pain shot through my chest like fire. Again. How many times was this going to happen to me?

  “Do not move when the Warden is addressing you, maggot!” one of the knights bellowed. He had a square jaw sharp enough to shave granite, and eyes that screamed authority. He loomed over me, gring as though daring me to twitch again.

  Then the Warden continued.

  “In your time here, you will learn the lessons your parents failed to teach you. We will make you understand what it means to be a citizen of Radan. If you are lucky enough to make it to release day, you will leave a loyal patriot.”

  His voice was nasally and sharp, grating on my nerves more than it had any right to. And he had this habit of pausing dramatically at the end of each sentence, like he was waiting for appuse. I didn’t know if I hated his voice or his pacing more.

  “My name is Warden Tensin Svi. You will address me as Warden or Warden Svi. I will speak to you on two occasions: today, your induction day... and the day you leave. You will not enjoy what happens if I’m required to speak to you in between.”

  Honestly? That part sounded great. I was already sick of hearing him. The less I had to hear from him, the better. I shifted slightly, preparing to stand but caught myself just in time. The boot-happy knight who’d already cracked my ribs was still hovering nearby, and from the look in his eyes, he really wanted an excuse to go for round two.

  “You will be assigned a cell by Captain Kent once you enter the prison proper. She will expin the finer rules, and you will follow them to the letter. Is that understood?”

  I barely had time to react before the sadist on my right nded another kick. I gasped, wheezing through gritted teeth.

  “I didn’t–”

  Another kick, harder this time. A definite crack. Something inside me shifted in a way it absolutely shouldn’t have.

  “Warden Svi asked you a question, maggot,” the knight growled.

  That word again. Maggot. I was starting to think he’d chosen his favourite insult and was determined to make it his catchphrase.

  “Okay–” I started, trying to comply.

  He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back hard, then shoved my face into the dirt.

  “The Warden doesn’t need your life story,” he sneered. “He needs a yes or no. Now answer the question.”

  The pressure on my skull made it hard to talk, but I managed to force the word out.

  “Yes,” I mumbled.

  “Good,” Warden Svi replied calmly. “Sergeant Knapper has kindly demonstrated how we teach lessons here. I suggest you learn them quickly, so we don’t have to repeat ourselves.”

  With that, he turned and walked away. The line of knights in front of me raised their swords in salute, then sheathed them in unison.

  Sergeant Knapper – the walking jawline who’d made me his new kicking bag – grabbed me by the colr and yanked me to my feet like I was just a piece of cargo.

  “We’re taking you into hell now, maggot. Hope you’re ready.”

  I couldn’t tell if he said “maggot” to everyone or if I was just special. Either way, I made a silent vow: if I ever came across any actual maggots, I’d be sending them his way in tribute.

  He shoved me forward toward the gate. It was a massive sb of reinforced metal with a narrow rectangur slit in the center for observation. I could tell at a gnce it could be sealed shut in a heartbeat if needed. From behind, I could hear the synchronized march of knights following me in. Looked like I was getting an escort into this so-called hell.

  The gate creaked open, and I was greeted by a now-familiar sight: rows of identical guards in silver armour, each with a matching scowl carved into their expression. No fir. No personality. They looked like one person cloned.

  Apparently, Knapper thought I was spending too long observing, because he kicked me in the back again. The force unched me forward, but the chain connecting my shackles snapped me back before I could hit the ground. I let out a strangled yelp, utterly undignified, which earned the second emotion I’d seen from the guards all day. Laughter.

  “Watch your step, maggot,” Knapper said with a grin.

  I made another silent promise to myself: if I ever got out of here, I’d make sure he never found that word funny again.

  I stood up slowly, brushing myself off in what I hoped looked like casual indifference, but I doubted it fooled anyone. Knapper gave me another shove, this time guiding me toward a side corridor to the right.

  A metal gate barred our way, but the guard stationed there immediately opened it for us, offering a crisp salute to Knapper as we passed through.

  So far, I’d been kicked, insulted, threatened, and paraded like a trophy.

  And I hadn’t even made it to my cell yet.

  At the end of the corridor stood a cage containing a wooden desk. The bars were thicker than any I’d seen so far, with a section cut out at waist height which I assumed was probably for transferring goods. Behind the desk sat a woman with a no-nonsense expression, cd in the same polished armour as the rest of the guards. She was scribbling on a piece of parchment and didn’t bother looking up until we were close enough to touch the bars of her cage.

  “Brandon Horlock,” she said ftly, setting her pen down and sliding the document she’d been working on onto the orderly stack to her right.

  “You’ve heard the Warden’s speech, and now you’ll hear mine.” Our eyes met, her gaze sharp and challenging, daring me to interrupt. I wasn’t in the mood to get clever, so I kept quiet. It must have been the right call because she gave me a slight nod of approval.

  “My name is Captain Kent. I’m the knight in charge of greeting new prisoners, and it is my great honour to teach you the rules of our fine establishment.”

  Her voice surprised me. After everything I’d heard so far, the sneers, barks, shouts, it was almost pleasant. Not exactly warm, but calm and clear. A rare comfort in a pce designed to grind people down.

  “First and foremost: violence will not be tolerated. You will not attack other prisoners. You will not harm yourself. And you will not y a hand on the guards. Is that clear, Horlock?”

  Her stare hardened like steel. I did my best not to wince as I answered.

  “Yep. No fighting anyone, including myself. Got it.” I kept my voice even, despite the way each word sent a stab of pain through my ribs. Knapper’s earlier kicks had definitely done more than bruise, and I wasn’t keen to invite another round.

  “If you decide to break this rule,” she continued, “you will be met with unrelenting force. Am I clear?”

  “Yeah. No violence. Loud and clear.”

  She studied me for a second before continuing.

  “Second rule: everyone works. You’ll be assigned a job, and you’ll complete it to the best of your ability. Failure to do so will result in punishment. Understood?”

  Work was fine by me. Maybe I’d even pick up a new skill while I was at it. I nodded in agreement. She didn’t have a list in front of her, which made me wonder how many times she’d delivered this speech. Judging by her age, which must have been at least twice mine, it was likely she’d been stationed here for a decade or more. Long enough to know it by heart.

  Now that I was thinking about it, all the guards seemed older. Maybe only the veterans were posted on the exterior. Or maybe the prison just recruited from the older generation. Judging by their builds and posture, I wouldn’t be surprised if most of them had served in at least one Challenge. Perhaps this was where they got sent afterward. A retirement pn in steel and stone.

  “Rule number three,” Kent said. “Nobody leaves before their designated time. That means no escape attempts. It’s not clever. It’s not impressive. And you won’t like what happens when we catch you. Which we will. Sergeant, how many have got away from us so far?”

  I felt Knapper lean in behind me, close enough to smell the steel on his breath.

  “None, Captain. Not a single maggot has ever escaped our custody.”

  She arched an eyebrow in my direction, clearly waiting for some kind of response. I was tempted, boy was I tempted, to say something snarky just to wipe that smug look off Knapper’s face, but I wasn’t in the best shape. Another hospital visit was not part of the pn. So I kept my mouth shut.

  “Those are the Big Three, as we like to call them,” Kent continued. “Break them, and we break you.”

  “You’ll be lucky if that’s all we do, maggot,” Knapper added, shoving me against the bars.

  The cold shocked me. I hadn’t noticed the chill in the air until that moment, whether it was nerves, adrenaline, or just the prison climate but now it bit through my skin like ice.

  “There are other rules you’ll be expected to follow, and they deserve just as much respect,” Kent said. “You’ll exercise in the courtyard for sixty minutes a day. You’ll receive three meals, all served in the canteen, and none of it is to be taken back to your cell.”

  Sixty minutes of courtyard time wasn’t exactly generous, but it was something. At least I’d be out of my cell more than once a day. I’d half-expected to be buried in a hole for the next thirty years.

  “Showers are mandatory. Once per day, before lights out. You’ll go with your group,” she looked down at a piece of parchment, searching for something. “Ah. Group Delta. When you hear the call, you’ll be ready. Don’t make us come looking.”

  A daily shower? Honestly, better than what I was used to. Hopefully, the water would still be warm by the time Delta got their turn but something told me we were st in the queue.

  “Your assignment is in the workshop. Ten hours a day. No less. Any experience with crafting?”

  Ten hours? That was insane. The academy barely ran for five. Now I was expected to do double that under threat of punishment? I must have made a face, because Kent gave me a knowing smirk.

  “Do I need to remind you of rule two?”

  I sighed, instantly regretting it as pain fred in my side.

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’ll work. No crafting experience though.”

  “Ten hours a day will sort that out for you, maggot,” Knapper added helpfully.

  “You’ll begin work after breakfast tomorrow,” Captain Kent continued, ignoring him. “Someone will give you a breakdown of your tasks, along with any workshop-specific rules you’ll be expected to follow. For now, get changed out of those rags.”

  She leaned down and pulled a neatly folded pile of clothes from under her desk. “Put these on. A spare set will be waiting in your cell. I’m sure it goes without saying, but we expect you to treat these like the luxuries they are. I don’t want to hear about you disrespecting your uniform. That wouldn’t be good for you.”

  I doubted anything in this pce would be good for me.

  I gnced around, searching for somewhere, anywhere, semi-private to change, but Kent saw the hesitation and immediately crushed any remaining hope of civility.

  “Change here. We need to ensure you’re not smuggling contraband into the prison.”

  Knapper grabbed my wrists with a little too much enthusiasm and unlocked the chains.

  “Don’t be shy, maggot. There’s no pce for modesty in here.”

  It was humiliating, but I complied. I could feel the eyes of the guards on me the entire time. Fortunately, most of the knights who’d accompanied me inside had gone down the opposite corridor. Unfortunately, Knapper more than made up for their absence. He narrated every scar and bruise he spotted like he was giving a bloody tour.

  “Looks like this maggot’s been through the wringer already. Might actually survive a few rounds,” he snickered.

  I handed my clothes through the bars to Captain Kent, who surprised me by folding them neatly and storing them beneath her desk. I didn’t really care what happened to them. Thirty-two years from now they’d probably be dust. Still, it was oddly disarming to see her pretend to care.

  “You’re ready to head in,” she said, nodding to the door on the left. “Remember what the Warden said, Horlock. You’re here to learn lessons. Follow the rules, and maybe you’ll only need to learn them once.”

  A guard stepped forward and opened the door. I was about to walk through when Kent called out one st time.

  “Oh, and Horlock.”

  I paused and turned to look at her.

  “Welcome to the Dungeons of Achrane.”