Crimson liquid pooled beneath the hovering body. Eyes constricting, mouth choking out desperate gasps. The tight robes wrapping the elf's slender body was soiled and tainted with deathly red.
Moulin could not process the scene before him. His thoughts were filled with the idea of a life taken because of his indefinite words.
"No!" It was Eilhara who screamed out, instantly yanking Moulin from his dazed stupor and positioning him back to the present. He watched as the horned man's expressionless face, with a hint of ruthless disgust, as he threw away the limp body of Phuna's father. Landing with a loud thud as if he was boneless.