Cold.
It was the first sensation Mordred experienced each morning, when they extracted him from his cell like a specimen removed from formaldehyde. Not a natural cold, invigorating or purifying. An insidious cold, almost tangible, that infiltrated down to the marrow of his bones. A constant temperature of nine degrees Celsius - low enough to slow metabolism without compromising vital functions. An environment calculated by beings who understood human physiology better than humans themselves. The cold of the draconic kingdom's entrails, that of a place designed with architectural precision for a single function: to deconstruct the human in order to rebuild him.
To systematically fracture each psychological barrier.
