William stopped speaking and turned toward Maris, who was now drenched in blood from head to toe.
Her clothes were soaked and clung to her body as if the violence she had just committed had left a physical weight behind.
Her breathing was ragged and rough.
Sunchaser stood beside her, immaculate, his white feathers untouched by the filth below.
He carefully avoided the blood by restraining the target through pure aura suppression rather than using his talons like before, as if the very idea of contact with such impurity offended his nature.
William lowered his gaze and looked down at the tortured figure on the ground, the body twisted into an unnatural shape, barely recognizable as a living person and even less recognizable as what had once been an elf.
