The little boy had short white hair that clung to his sweat-slick skin, his small golden eyes wide with fear and shock, pleading.
Tears streamed freely, his lips trembling.
He was shirtless, wearing only grey pants, the chains making direct contact with his flesh. His chest revealed skin stretched tight against bone, fat and muscle absent.
He was so thin and malnourished he resembled a shrivelled corpse, frail and weak. Scars and fresh burns etched across his frame only added to the pitiful sight.
The little boy looked up, meeting the priestess' gaze, begging and pleading, tears blurring his vision as droplets slid along the curves of his young face.
He squirmed and struggled, trying to break free, but nothing worked.
As he did so, the chains burned against his skin, spikes of pain repeatedly tearing across his young mind, yet the woman regarded him with nothing more than cold apathy.
She didn't budge once, not to his cries nor his whimpers.
