“No! I am not a gith! Do not call me that.” The githyanki youth shouts,voice cracking. He then takes a deep breath to calm himself,then gives a small smile. “I am Ptaris. And I am good.”

You could’ve believed him. If the floor wasn’t covered in blood and bodies. You recognize the youth. You gave him to these bodies when he was just an egg. Bruises on his skin from past abuse… the people you gave him too obviously tortured the poor boy. Maybe now… you can keep him. Like how you wanted…