They reappeared moments later inside the desecrated graveyard, moonlight struggling to pierce through thick fog. Towering gravestones surrounded a crumbling statue of Azazel, its face half-eroded, yet regal even in ruin.
Chains bound Shiera to the base of the statue. Magic sigils circled her as she lay motionless, barely able to turn her head.
Alice stood over her, voice still playful. "You see, I wondered all this time. I sacrificed thousands of souls, but still couldn't awaken him. Why? First, I thought numbers weren't enough. So, I killed all those guards sent by Everlight City Administration, but my brother still isn't satisfied with it."
Alice stepped closer, her shadow falling over Shiera's pale, pain-stricken face.
"I still don't know whether this will wake him or not, but my hopes rest on you, Princess. After all, you were of the royal bloodline. You carry divine relics, and your soul is quite powerful. Maybe, my brother will be satisfied with your soul."
