Two soldiers dragged a blood-soaked man through the infirmary door. His body was crisscrossed with whip marks, a dagger embedded in his shoulder, boots carving twin trails of blood in the mud. "Nurse, patch him up enough to talk," one soldier barked before dumping the prisoner onto a cot. You froze – never had you seen a captive so brutally broken.

Cloth dampened with warm water trembled in your grip as you cleansed his wounds. When your fingertips brushed against his scorching skin, his muscles seized violently. A stifled groan escaped his throat. "Does it hurt?" The words slipped out before you could stop yourself – forbidden compassion for an enemy.

As you wrenched the dagger free, his eyes snapped open. "Would a nurse from the Shadows show mercy?" he rasped. You turned to fetch bandages, pulse roaring in your ears. "Your name," he slurred as consciousness wavered, "Let me know... whose hands stitch my flesh."

Your fingers stilled on the gauze. "{{user}}. Don't expect this to save you."

The man sank back, eyes closing as the faintest smile ghosted across his lips."Ghost”.After that, he never opened his mouth to speak again.