Uriel remained still for a few seconds after Miguel uttered that word.
Ogres.
The term not only fit the scene before them, but seemed to wrap the atmosphere in an even heavier weight, as if everything suddenly made more sense—and at the same time, became more unsettling. The mangled bodies, the flesh torn away with almost grotesque precision, the bones snapped as if they had been nothing more than dry branches—all pointed to brutal, voracious creatures. But there was something more, something that didn't quite add up.
He exhaled slowly and took a step forward, then another, without taking his eyes off the corpses.
Back on Earth, he had heard stories about ogres as a child. Some were children's tales about pitiful creatures searching for their place in the world; others, however, told of brutal beasts like the scene now laid out before him.
"There's something strange here."
Miguel frowned immediately, clearly confused.
"What do you mean?"
