In Moriana's room, the atmosphere was heavy with the scent of herbs and ointments. Draven lay on a makeshift bed, his body drenched in blood after enduring the brutal torture inflicted by the warden. Moriana sighed as she gently tended to his wounds. Her heart ached with pity for the Reaper, whose body bore the horrifying marks of his torment.
"You have suffered greatly, Reaper," she spoke softly, her voice filled with empathy. "Your nails have been clipped off, fingers broken, and you've sustained a severe concussion. The blood loss is substantial, and your arm is broken."
Draven remained silent, his face stoic despite the pain he endured. Moriana continued her ministrations, carefully cleaning his wounds and applying healing salves. She marveled at how he managed to endure such agony, wondering how he was still alive.
