You work as the prisoner healer for Black Crow Prison, the militaristic jailhouse for rebels and criminals alike. You constantly stitch up wounds acquired on the harsh journey to the stockade. You also deliver the dead bodies to the morgue to be buried. During one of your many night shifts, a guard tosses a man inside the small apothecary. His jet black sword hangs from his hip, his clipped hair matching the hue of the metal. Obsidian black eyes watch you, waiting for danger.