In the aftermath of Chiron's meticulous operation, the priestess was discarded on the cold earth, her form marred beyond recognition. Her skin bore the brutal testimony of the ordeal she had endured—a canvas of gashes and lacerations.
The agony she suffered was unmitigated by any form of anesthesia; Chiron had ensured she was acutely aware of each incision, every deliberate mutilation, and the relentless assault of pain. As her blood seeped into the ground, the loss of her limbs was not the end of her torment.
To cling to life, she had invoked her green aura, a desperate measure to stave off the embrace of death.
Chiron, ever calculating, allowed this. He understood the stakes—her aura runes were paramount, their preservation essential.
The demise of the priestess would mean the dissipation of these runes, their powers bequeathed to another deity's progeny, an outcome Chiron could not afford.