Sylvia stared at the angel bowing before her. Its once-radiant holy body was now pale like fresh corpse-flesh, its dull wings drooping weakly onto the damp soil of the black rose garden. The zombie poison had seeped in perfectly not to kill, but to transform. The holy aura that had previously stabbed like blades of light was gone, replaced by the familiar cold scent of death that Nocture knew well. The Chain of Abyss still loosely bound its body, a reminder that freedom was merely an illusion under the dominion of the Queen of Death.
