Six months passed without warning.

  No alarms.

  No signs.

  No mercy.

  Peace ended the same way it had begun—quietly.

  The morning felt ordinary.

  Samye had already left the hut to work near the fields. Aren stayed behind, complaining as usual about how early it was.

  “Don’t wander far,” Samye said, tying his worn gloves.

  “I won’t,” Aren replied, rolling his eyes. “I’m not a kid.”

  Samye almost smiled.

  The screams reached him first.

  They were distant—muted by wind and chaos—but Samye recognized panic when he heard it. He dropped what he was carrying and turned toward the town, his instincts screaming louder than the voices.

  Smoke rose near the outskirts.

  People were running.

  And then he saw them.

  The Breakers.

  Armed men moved through the streets with brutal efficiency. No shouting orders. No hesitation. They didn’t need to explain themselves anymore.

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  They were collecting.

  Men were dragged away. Women were struck down when they resisted. Children cried and clung to doorways until hands tore them free.

  Samye’s heart stopped.

  Aren.

  He ran.

  By the time he reached the edge of town, he saw it.

  Aren.

  Two Breakers had him by the arms. The boy struggled, kicking and screaming, fear written clearly across his face.

  “Samye!” Aren cried out.

  The sound shattered something inside him.

  Samye burst forward without thinking.

  “Stop!” he shouted. “Please—stop!”

  The Breakers turned slowly.

  Samye dropped to his knees.

  “Take me instead,” he begged. His voice shook violently. “He’s just a child. Take me. I’ll work. I’ll do anything.”

  The words spilled out uncontrollably.

  “I’ll go with you. I won’t resist. Just let him go.”

  Fear wrapped tightly around his chest, crushing the air from his lungs. He had never been more terrified in his life.

  He placed himself in front of Aren, arms spread instinctively, like a shield.

  “I’m begging you.”

  For a moment, the Breakers said nothing.

  Then one of them laughed.

  A short, humorless sound.

  “Why choose?” the man said coldly.

  Before Samye could react, another Breaker struck him from behind. He fell hard to the ground. Rough hands grabbed him, binding his arms.

  Aren screamed again.

  “No! Please—please don’t take him!”

  The Breakers ignored him.

  They took both.

  The journey was long.

  They were forced to walk with others—new prisoners taken from nearby villages. Some were injured. Some were barely conscious. No one was allowed to speak.

  Anyone who fell behind was beaten.

  By nightfall, massive concrete walls rose before them.

  An abandoned government facility.

  Old. Forgotten. Reclaimed by cruelty.

  Floodlights illuminated rusted gates and barbed wire. Guards stood watch with weapons and abilities ready. Inside, Samye could see shadows moving endlessly—people working, collapsing, being dragged away.

  The air smelled of iron and despair.

  Aren clutched Samye’s arm tightly.

  “Where are we?” he whispered.

  Samye swallowed hard.

  He didn’t know.

  But he knew one thing.

  This wasn’t a place people escaped from.

  As the gates closed behind them with a deafening metallic crash, Samye felt something cold settle deep inside his chest.

  This was no longer about survival.

  This was about endurance.

  And whatever waited for them beyond those walls—

  It would break them.

  Or remake them.