He felt teeth come loose.
Or maybe that was just his tongue swelling too fast to make room.
Time slid sideways. Sound dulled.
The last thing he saw before blacking out was the gold chain on the interrogator's neck catching a glint of torchlight.
And the voice.
Not angry. Not excited.
Just done.
"Leave him. He'll talk later. They always do."
The door closed.
And for a while, there was nothing.
Not even thought.
Just pain stacked in layers he couldn't lift.
He breathed once.
And the blood in his mouth didn't taste like his.
—
They stopped beating him as often. Not because it hurt less, but because they didn't need to try anymore.
Rathan, Merlin, couldn't remember how long it had been. Not exactly.
A few years, maybe more. His body still healed, slower than before, but enough to tell him time hadn't completely stopped. And that was the worst part. It meant he had to keep living through it.
