At her feet, fourteen specimens of Time Hounds are neatly arranged.
Including the old Dog King, all elite individuals are preserved in an unimaginable manner.
They maintain their form from when they were alive, but their bodies have become semi-transparent, completely drained of their internal energy and essence.
The once powerful predators now stand silently on display, like exhibits in a museum.
Their eyes are still open, with despair lingering in their pupils.
The Witch seems to sense its presence and slowly turns around.
A young and beautiful face, but her gaze is as cold as ice.
"There's still one little fish that hasn't taken the bait yet."
Her voice is gentle and pleasing, yet to the Dog King's ears it sounds like the whisper of death:
"It seems my 'performance' wasn't convincing enough to save you from disaster."
It is only now that the Dog King realizes the so-called "dying remnants" in the pack's information was, from the beginning, a trap set by this Witch.
