Inside the tent, the air was thick with the scent of herbs and blood. A healer was quietly wrapping a bandage around Lord Alekin's severed arm, where a deep burned gash still wept through the linen. His face lit up the moment he saw the girls enter, despite the heavy bruise-like shadows under his eyes, a clear mark of blood loss and fatigue.
"You're here?" he breathed, almost disbelieving.
Ren stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the injury. She gently gestured to the healer. "Leave us, please. I'll take care of it."
Once they were alone, she knelt beside his cot, her voice low but firm. "Let me heal you. That wound will take months to mend on its own."
But Lord Alekin shook his head, pain flickering across his expression, not just physical pain, but something deeper. "I deserve it, the pain," he murmured. "I failed you. I stood by while my family tormented you. I did nothing when I should have…"
