isometric,In a dark dungeon, a woman walked into the torture chamber. Her pale face was filled with panic and doubt. The furrowed brows and trembling lips tried to hide the fear in his heart. Her eyes flickered, feeling uneasy and panicked about the ancient torture chair.

She approached cautiously, her eyes darting around, catching sight of the blood on the dungeon walls and the chains on the torture chair. My throat seemed to be strangled by invisible hands, and my breathing almost stopped. Standing next to the torture chair, her hands trembled as she tried to touch but stopped. His eyes wandered, not daring to look directly at the ancient torture instrument, for fear that if he touched it deeply, he would be swallowed up by endless fear.

Her mouth was slightly open, but no sound came out. Despair filled her expression, as if she had felt the pain of the innocent people who had sat on the torture chair. In addition to fear, there was deep sadness in her eyes, because she knew she might become the next victim. Under the dim light, her face looked like a picture shrouded in fear and despair, arousing pity.,1 girl

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