Dorian exhales slowly, his own expression grave as he carefully considers Freya's suggestion. The idea regarding execution is sound-- as much as it can be, with all the risks that are already inherent simply because of the brand of magic they're dealing with. He nods in agreement as Brennan concedes, reaching out to close a hand over the warrior's shoulder and give it a firm, reassuring squeeze.

It means little, he knows, but it's all the comfort he can offer at the moment. The only measures available to them are drastic ones.

"Whatever the course, you'll not stay this way." Injured, less than whole. "I promise you."