Aelorin's eyes bulged in their sockets as he finally noticed the body lying on the white seat in the center of the room. A wave of nausea surged through him, his stomach churning violently. He gagged, clutching at his throat as his body spasmed in irritation.
It was a sight of sheer horror, one that burned into his mind like a cruel brand. The corpse on the seat was his sister's. Her lifeless form was riddled with hundreds of needles, each puncturing her delicate skin, embedding themselves almost everywhere.
The sheer brutality of it struck Aelorin like a thunderclap. He could feel phantom pricks on his own flesh, imagining the unimaginable agony she must have endured—needle after needle tearing into her, stripping her of any semblance of peace. It was inhumane. Callous. Unspeakable.
