"Who are they?"
Wang Xiao's voice echoed flatly across the cavern, his figure towering on the raised platform. Naomi had dropped him here without warning, and now hundreds of strange figures stared up at him in tense silence.
At first glance, they looked human, but not quite.
Their skin was bone-pale, untouched by sun for ages.
Their hair ran from white to ash-grey, a few strands glinting faint silver.
And their eyes, all of them, emerald green, glowing faintly in the dark like a hundred lanterns.
Thin bodies, fragile frames, they looked less like warriors, more like relics.
At last, one of them stepped forward.
A woman, slightly older than the rest, yet her body carried a ripened beauty, heavy breasts, wide hips, the kind of softness that bore both children and burdens.
Her light blue robes covered faintly to curves as she lowered her head.
