The mist clung to Dagavia longer than it should have, thinning only in reluctant patches as the morning struggled awake. Roosters crowed from unseen yards, sharp and impatient, while shutters opened and closed along the street like blinking eyes. Somewhere metal rang against stone. Life resumed its rhythm, indifferent.

  Wallo led Omni and Tyrus through it without speaking.

  The small dungeon sat apart from the busier streets, half-swallowed by older stone and neglect. Wallo stopped at the door and fit the iron key into the lock. It resisted him. He braced his shoulder and twisted harder. The mechanism protested, then gave way with a grinding groan that echoed too loudly for the hour.

  The hinges screamed when he pulled the door open.

  Cold rushed out to meet them.

  The stairwell dropped steeply into shadow. Wallo descended first, torch in hand, its flame sputtering as if it resented being dragged underground. Omni followed, careful with his footing. Tyrus came last, silent, his presence filling the narrow space more than his size should have allowed. The air thickened with damp and rot as they went lower.

  At the bottom, Wallo lit two more torches and fixed them to the wall.

  The cell revealed itself.

  Iron bars divided the room, thick and rusted. On the far side, Beiru lay slumped against the stone like discarded refuse. One arm hung at an angle that made Omni’s breath catch before he could stop it. The other was chained to a heavy ring set deep into the floor. The shackle bit into raw skin.

  Omni stepped closer to the bars despite himself.

  “Has no one been down here to see the extent of his injuries?” Omni asked, turning to Wallo.

  Wallo frowned as if the question itself surprised him. He shook his head once. It clearly had not occurred to him that anyone should.

  His hand slid down the shaft of his spear.

  “Beiru,” Wallo called, voice hard. No movement. “Beiru.” Still nothing.

  The torchlight flickered. For a moment, Beiru might have been dead.

  “Allow me to enter, Wallo.” Omni turned toward him.

  Wallo unlocked the cell, but stepped in front of Omni before he could pass.

  “I’ll go first,” Wallo said. He glanced over his shoulder at Tyrus. “Give me some space, Ura.” He jerked his chin toward the stairs. “Wait there.”

  Tyrus did not move immediately.

  The torch flames nearest him wavered, bending as if pushed by a sudden breath. His jaw tightened. After a heartbeat too long, he stepped back, boots scraping stone. He stopped where Wallo pointed, but his eyes never left the cell.

  Wallo advanced, spear leveled. He closed the distance until the iron bars were behind him and Beiru was just within reach.

  “Beiru,” Wallo shouted.

  He did not wait for a response.

  The spear swung. The wooden shaft cracked against Beiru’s back with a hollow sound.

  Beiru screamed, a raw, animal sound torn from him as his body jerked awake.

  Omni surged forward. “Please, Wallo! Does he not suffer enough?”

  “No.” Wallo’s voice did not rise. He drew the spear back, elbow bending for another strike.

  Heat flared behind Omni, sudden and uncomfortable. Tyrus stepped closer to the cell, slow but unmistakable, his presence pressing into the space. Wallo turned sharply.

  “I told you to stay back!” He pointed the spear at Tyrus, its tip trembling just slightly.

  For a moment, the air felt tight, as if it might split.

  Wallo looked back at Omni. “Lord Omni, with all due respect, you know nothing of this dog, Beiru.” He lowered the spear, but did not relax his grip.

  Omni straightened, forcing his breath steady. “I understand how the village feels about Beiru. But let us have a little grace. He is already defeated.”

  Beiru shifted, dragging himself onto his back with a wet grunt. His face was swollen nearly beyond recognition. One eye was sealed shut. He lifted his head with visible effort and spat. The glob struck Wallo’s chest plate and slid downward, streaked red.

  “Fuck you, Wallo.” Beiru grinned, teeth pink with blood, before the expression collapsed into a hiss of pain.

  The torches crackled.

  Wallo stepped in again and planted the blunt end of his spear against Beiru’s broken arm, right at the shoulder where the bone had failed. He leaned into it with his weight.

  Beiru screamed, his body arching uselessly against the chain as pain ripped through him.

  Wallo let out a quiet laugh through his nose and pressed harder.

  Omni turned his head away. He knew better than to command Wallo. Instead, his gaze slid to Tyrus, and the thought died before it reached his lips. He swallowed.

  “Wallo, please,” Omni said, the words forced through clenched teeth.

  The pressure vanished.

  Wallo stepped back and turned his back on them. He crossed the cell and dropped onto a broad stone block, spear resting across his knees as if the matter were finished.

  Beiru sagged, gasping, sweat streaking through grime on his face.

  Omni moved closer and lowered himself until he was nearly on the floor. He studied the arm carefully, eyes tracing the unnatural angle, the swelling already blooming dark beneath the skin. Beiru watched him with a sharp, cornered stare, like something injured but not broken.

  “Do not worry,” Omni said quietly. “I am simply here to help you.”

  He examined the joint with care. “It is a very bad break.”

  “Who are you?” Beiru asked, his voice hoarse.

  Omni met his gaze. “I am Lord Omni of the Kesh.” He reached into his robe and withdrew a small flask. “I made you this tea. It should help with the pain. Why don’t you drink a little.”

  He raised the flask to Beiru’s mouth.

  Beiru hesitated. His lips twitched into a crooked smile as his eyes flicked around the cell.

  “What is this now? More tricks?”

  “No tricks,” Omni said.

  Beiru studied him, searching his face. Whatever he saw there made him snort softly. He took a long pull from the flask. His face twisted immediately.

  “It tastes awful.”

  “You will be asking for more when you feel it in your blood.” Omni straightened and turned toward Tyrus, lifting his hand in a small beckoning gesture. “Wallo, I require assistance from Tyrus. Unless you would like to help me tend to Beiru.”

  Omni glanced over his shoulder.

  “I am not helping the bastard.” Wallo waved Tyrus forward with a short nod.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Tyrus stepped into the cell. The torch nearest him flared brighter for a breath, then settled. His eyes went first to Omni, then to Beiru.

  Beiru noticed. He looked Tyrus over and gave a low laugh. “Oh, now I see. You two are with West. I remember now.” He nodded slowly.

  “Yes,” Omni said. “He is our friend, and we come as an extension of his mercy. We only wish to help you.”

  Beiru’s brow lifted. “Mercy…?” His jaw tightened, teeth grinding. “Is that what you call…his deceit?”

  “We are not here to discuss the matters of yesterday,” Omni said, lowering himself again so they were eye level. “We simply wish to help you.”

  Beiru looked away, breathing shallowly. The pain crept back into his face as the tea worked through him. After a moment, he spoke again.

  “Give me more of the tea.”

  Omni smiled, small and sincere. “Of course.”

  He raised the flask once more to Beiru’s mouth, tipped the flask back, and allowed him to drink.

  Beiru exhaled slowly, then looked at Omni through half-lidded eyes.

  “So tell me, Kesh man. Are you the one who taught the legendary West how to cook his potions?” His gaze slid to Tyrus, lingering there a heartbeat too long, before returning to Omni.

  “Beiru,” Omni said gently. “A new day has risen, and a new path awaits you. Do not dwell on the things you cannot change, for it is no longer our current reality.”

  “My new path?” Beiru scoffed. “As an exiled bastard with one arm?” He huffed a short laugh. “Quite the future.”

  Omni moved closer, his voice lowering. “I can fix your arm, Beiru, if you will only allow me.”

  The Juga tea had already begun to work its way through Beiru’s blood. The sharp edge of pain had dulled into something distant, almost unreal. His shoulders sagged.

  “I am at your pity, Kesh lord,” he said quietly.

  “Very well.” Omni straightened and turned to Tyrus. “I will have to have Tyrus break your arm once again. It has already begun to heal incorrectly.” He met Tyrus’s eyes. “Tyrus.”

  Tyrus hesitated. His jaw tightened. The air near him felt warmer for a moment, the torch flames stirring without reason. He did not like this. He did not like Beiru. Still, he stepped forward.

  Beiru looked up at him and smiled through the sweat and grime. “Tyrus. You look quite familiar.”

  Tyrus did not answer. His stare was cold, assessing, but something unsettled stirred beneath it. He felt the same faint pull of recognition and did not trust it.

  Nothing more was said.

  Tyrus knelt and took hold of Beiru’s ruined arm. His grip was firm, deliberate. Then he twisted.

  The bone gave with a wet, sickening crack.

  Beiru screamed. Even through the haze of the tea, the pain tore free, raw and unrestrained. The scream broke into a fit of wild laughter, sharp and unhinged. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with mucus as his breath came in ragged bursts. Slowly, the laughter faded.

  Omni wiped Beiru’s face with the edge of his silk sleeve. “The worst part is over now.” He rested a steady hand on Beiru’s head and began preparing a sling, wrapping the arm with practiced care.

  Across the cell, Wallo laughed openly..

  Omni finished the sling and eased Beiru upright, bracing him against a low rock. “Try to sit up more. It will serve you better than lying down.” He lifted the flask again and held it where Beiru could reach.

  “Why are you doing this?” Beiru let his weight settle, exhaustion loosening his limbs.

  “Because I want to,” Omni said, without hesitation.

  Beiru’s eyes moved slowly around the cell, taking in Wallo by the wall, Tyrus near the bars, the torches breathing smoke into the damp air. Confusion crept across his face.

  Omni unwrapped a loaf of bread from a clean white cloth. The scent of baked cheese cut through the dungeon’s rot. He tore off a piece and handed it to Beiru, then broke another and passed it to Tyrus.

  “Wallo, please come share a piece with us.” Omni broke off one more.

  Wallo approached, boots scraping stone. “Thank you, Lord, but I will have my piece away from both of these Ura dogs.” He took the bread and turned back toward his corner.

  “Are we not better than this, Wallo?” Omni asked.

  “No.” Wallo did not look back.

  Omni shifted closer to Beiru. “So you are of the Ura?”

  Beiru chewed slowly before answering. “My blood does not define me.” The tea softened his posture, his gaze drifting. “My mother claimed the Ura. She was proud. They did not claim her.” His eyes flicked to Tyrus. “Such wicked people.” He looked back at Omni. “I am not Ura. I am not Evokian. I am not of Dresdi.” A thin grin crept across his face. “I am Beiru. The Yellow.” His shoulders sagged as the pain returned in waves.

  Omni tore off more bread, offering another piece to Beiru and Tyrus. He extended some toward Wallo and received only a raised hand in refusal. “So then is it true? You are the son of General Dresdi?” Omni lowered himself to the ground beside Beiru.

  Tyrus let out a quiet groan. Omni was pressing too close. Still, he watched Beiru carefully. Another Ura. He had heard the whispers, Nadrin’s passing words, but seeing one here stirred something sharp in his chest. Heat tightened behind his ribs, restrained but restless.

  “Dresdi.” Beiru winced. “Is he not all our fathers?” He breathed out. “He shaped the world that molded us.” His mouth twisted. “My father…” He shook his head. “My mother was taken during one of his raids. And we know how this world treats women.” He turned his face away, voice tightening. “That man was not my father. That was a joke. The cruelty of the Ura.”

  Beiru looked up at Tyrus. “He knows. He knows how the Ura treat women who surrender. They cast them aside and tell them death would have been more honorable.” His breath hitched. “My mother carried that shame. And now it stands before you.” He rattled the chain with his good hand. “Broken.”

  Omni wiped Beiru’s face again with the edge of his sleeve, careful not to brush the swollen jaw. “There is a better world, Beiru. But it is not in the past. It is tomorrow.”

  Beiru did not react. His eyes stayed flat, unreadable. Then his fingers curled around the chain, and he gave it a sharp pull, iron biting stone. “You have cheated me of my tomorrow.” He dragged in a breath. “I never surrendered. And he failed to kill me.”

  He leaned back against the rock, braced himself, then pushed unsteadily to his feet. The motion was slow, deliberate. Pain etched itself across his face, but he did not retreat from it. His gaze slid to Tyrus and stayed there.

  “And what do you say, Ura, to such trickery and dishonor?” Beiru studied him openly now, like a man measuring a blade.

  Tyrus straightened. The air around him seemed to tighten as he stepped closer, boots scraping stone. His voice came out even, but something burned beneath it. “You dishonored yourself long before we arrived.”

  Beiru snickered, a wet, broken sound. “Dishonor?” He tilted his head. “Should you not be a corpse in the river, Tyrus, the Ura?”

  Omni rose quickly and moved between them, gripping Tyrus’s arms. “Tyrus, please. He is already hurt.”

  Tyrus looked down at Omni, jaw clenched, then past him to Beiru. Heat flickered in his eyes, sharp and restrained. He gently but firmly moved Omni aside without breaking his stare.

  “Do not turn your back to him, Lord Omni,” Tyrus said, never looking away.

  Wallo laughed from the corner, the sound bouncing off stone. “Let them fight, Lord Omni. It is the least you can do for making me miss the hunt.”

  “Yeah,” Beiru added, breath ragged but smiling. “Let your dog fight, Lord Omni.”

  For a moment, it seemed Tyrus might answer. His hands flexed at his sides, breath slow and controlled, fire pressing hard against discipline. Then he turned away.

  He walked back toward the bars, putting distance between himself and the chained man, leaving the tension hanging in the damp air of the cell.

  “Beiru,” Omni said, stepping closer to the bars, lowering himself so they were closer to eye level. “Perhaps there is a way in which we can help each other.”

  Beiru’s eyes sharpened. The pain did not leave his face, but curiosity broke through it. “What are you proposing?”

  “Lord Omni,” Tyrus said quickly. “Perhaps we can discuss this when West is back.”

  Omni glanced at him, surprised, then smiled faintly. “I am sure West will not argue. Perhaps complain. But he will be fine.” He turned back toward the cell.

  Tyrus stepped forward, sandals scraping stone. “Lord Omni. Then perhaps we should discuss it now.”

  Omni paused. The smile faded. He followed Tyrus a few steps away from the bars, lowering his voice.

  “Lord Omni, what are you proposing we do?” Tyrus asked.

  “Beiru is now the responsibility of West,” Omni said. “Which makes him our responsibility as well. We have a duty to care for him and to see that he is placed on a better path.”

  “He belongs to West,” Tyrus said, sharp.

  “West is a slave,” Omni replied calmly. “He cannot legally own property. But that is beside the point.” He folded his hands. “There is no mercy in leaving a man to rot in a dungeon. If we can help him, we should.”

  Tyrus exhaled through his nose, struggling to contain himself. “He is dangerous, Lord Omni. We cannot afford to bring him along.”

  Omni laughed softly. “You are beginning to sound like West.” He studied Tyrus. “Can you truly not see yourself in him? You were injured. Captive. Hated for what you are.” His voice softened. “West warned me about you once. Said you were too dangerous. But I saw the fire in your heart.”

  Omni stepped closer. “How long have you carried the weight of being alone, Tyrus? And now here stands another who knows that same loneliness. We can help him.”

  Tyrus looked away, jaw tight. The fire in him flared, then recoiled inward. “Damn it… Omni… Do whatever you want.” He turned and walked toward the stairs before his anger got the best of him.

  Omni watched him go, then returned to the cell.

  “My apologies,” Omni said gently. “Beiru, we can release you from here. If you chose a new way with West, Tyrus and I.”

  Beiru studied him, eyes narrowing. “You do not understand, Kesh Lord. My duel with West is not over. We will finish it.”

  Omni only smiled. “Please take some time to think about it. The battle is over Beiru, you are no longer a Canary, you are no longer a bastard, you are now free to be. Omni looked at the half empty flask and half eaten bread. “Keep the rest. We will return in the morning.”

  The torches dimmed as Omni and Wallo left the cell. Footsteps climbed the stairs. The door groaned shut.

  Beiru stood alone again, the chain heavy against his wrist. He looked down at the bread. After a moment, he sat.

  “Thank you, Lord Omni,” he said to the empty stone.

  In the silence that followed, his fingers clenched around the chain. He breathed slowly and began to finish the bread. The taste reminded him of his younger years when he was just a messenger for the Canaries and Nadrin would invite him for a plate of dinner.