Cassian hung limply from a tree by one arm, his body a mess of wounds. Blood dripped steadily from the stump of his severed arm and a long, raw gash that stretched from thigh to stomach, pooling into a large bowl beneath him. His breathing was ragged, eyes wide with a mixture of pain and horror.
One of the underlings stood nearby, watching the blood collect with a strange reverence."You know," he said almost dreamily, "Circle Warriors have the best-tasting blood. The stronger they are, the richer the flavor. Acolyte Sar once gifted me meat from a Fourth-Rank Circle Warrior… tasted like heaven, and it even helped awaken a bit of dark aura in me."
Cassian no longer pretending to be in pain as the cultists barely even noticed—too focused on the bowl filling beneath him. Voice weak, he managed to ask, "…What's dark aura?"
