Already, Gabranth has gathered as much himself — that they've only barely been kept alive, that they're meant to play some part in this ritual... As for what that ritual might entail, of course, he can only guess. But to share those guesses now...

Would that he had something of use, something without any grimness or the very question of their mortality, to share with her now. But he doesn't, and there lies the limit of his usefulness.

His brow furrows. A silence follows, and in this moment, he cannot bear to let it lie.

"What is your name?"