Terror like a ghost.
Except for the female slave pinned to the ground, none of the other guarding female slaves dared to stay here any longer, let alone look at Celestia Fawkes—they scattered, scrambling away in fear.
Amid the chaos, a fiery red figure descended from the sky.
Soren Phoenix landed, his feather robe billowing. When he caught sight of his sister's state, a flash of shock flickered in his peach blossom eyes: "Little sister, you..."
"Brother!"
Celestia Fawkes, sobbing and in tears, wanted to throw herself into his arms, but just three steps away, Soren raised a hand to stop her.
The rotting flesh on her body was oozing maggots, pus flowing everywhere, an overwhelming stench of blood and decay filling the air—utterly nauseating.
Soren's fiery red feather robe whipped in the night wind. He covered his mouth and nose, backing away: "How did you end up like this?"
