Vaeka is utterly exhausted in body, mind and soul. The healing doesn't make the pain of each new wound any easier to bear, but eventually the repeated stabs take its toll. She is hung forward in her chair with sweat dripping from her forehead and dampening her bangs. Each time she breathes in she feels like she's going to burst.

This is an utterly despicable man.

She is almost too dazed to notice his movements but the way he grabs her by the hair and forces her upward isn't something she can ignore. Vaeka chokes on a yelp. Maybe she won't make it to the gallows. That would be a kinder fate.

If these are going to be her last words, she should choose them carefully. Vaeka thinks back onto her family, her friends, the streets she grew up on, her reasonings for joining the Resistance in the first place. Summoning up one last bout of defiance, she bears her teeth at Emet-Selch.

"...G-Godsblood...doesn't need...you!"