The forest had fallen eerily silent.
The only sound echoing through the trees was the broken, ragged groans of Sephira.
She lay motionless on the blood-soaked ground—right before Charlotte and Seraphina—her once proud and seductive form now reduced to a trembling heap of flesh and agony.
Both arms, ripped from their sockets.
Most of her once-luxurious hair, torn from her scalp in thick clumps.
And her left eye—ripped out barehanded by the silver-haired monster who now stood in judgment.
The very same figure whose shadow loomed protectively over the battered girls behind him.
Now, she lay like trash on the forest floor… the first time in her life she'd ever felt true helplessness.
Sephira… one of the key torturers of the Crown of Oblivion—a clandestine organization whose roots had infected empires, kingdoms, and territories across the world. From the Holy Empire of Celestara to the vile marshes of the Bloodmoon Empire… even the aloof Elven Empire had not escaped their grasp.
