The man's scream of agony and Cassian's maniacal laughter echoed like a bloody duet in the eerie silence of the forest.
The flickering light of the campfire glinted off the blood splattered across the young man's face and silver hair, transforming him into a bloodthirsty demon torn from the pages of a nightmare.
The remaining slave traders stared, frozen, at the unbelievable scene, their hands hovering over the hilts of their swords but paralyzed by fear.
The silence was broken by the sound of twisting metal from within the cage.
The rusty iron bars were no different from wet clay in Cassian's hands. With a creaking groan, they bent to the side, creating an opening just large enough for him.
In a single, fluid motion, the young man leaped from the cramped cell onto the blood-soaked ground illuminated by the campfire.
The muscular, heavyset man who appeared to be their leader was the first to shake off the initial wave of shock.
Fear and anger warred on his face.
