I. The Smell of Rotten Flesh
The smell of rotten flesh flooded Faeraesh's senses as she walked into the her sister's laboratory. She'd always hated that disgusting niff, though familiar. But even if she tried to hold her breath so much as posible; the essence of dead bodies and chemical mixtures penetrated to her bones. Although the roof was totally glass-made, beautifully decorated with dark gothic watermarks; the light was quite dim. Maybe something that others may not notice, since there was no sun shining in Zarghan City's cloudy sky. But somehow, that room was always sunk inside a particular veil of darkness, barely lighted by the retroilluminated biotanks, filled with a green colored liquid. The bodies inside were resting in some kind of induced coma, with wires and tubes inserted in their entrails. Most of them were once humanoids. Now they were just... —... Monsters—she whispered without hidding her disgusted expression. Faeraesh's followed the noise of soft voices,...