Sidor stood behind Conner, his arms folded across his chest as his shadowed face looked towards the window. The fading wound still ached, and his Beast growled for blood. Blood. His fangs were extended, and he shuddered as he fought it away.
"I may be of some assistance," he said quietly. "I can call upon a Dark Blessing to force an individual to speak the truth." He almost hesitated to offer, but it was necessary. And he would not become a coward. The Miracle had come to protect him from Dirge. Perhaps, in that guttering, tiny spark of faith, he could find his centre again and remember his real place in the Purpose.