Inside, the room was lavish: dark mahogany bookshelves lined the walls while a massive oak desk sat in the center, and behind it…
A young elf was chained to the wall.
Seraphiel let a sharp, distraught cry escape her lips, and her sword instantly vanished, replaced by the staff she manifested. She rushed forward and began casting golden magic, trying to mend the girl's wounds.
But it was too late.
Blood stained the floor beneath her. The chunks of flesh missing from her thighs made it clear she had been eaten alive, piece by piece, while still conscious. But thanks to our arrival to Emberfang, the lionkin lord was forced to leave his meal unfinished… Which meant he let this poor girl bleed out.
Her lifeless eyes stared at us, empty of the soul that had once occupied them.
Seraphiel's healing spells flickered and failed as her hands began to shake around her staff's handle.
"No…"
Her voice broke.
"No, no, no, no! Please!"
