Chapter 7 - The Ashen Plague
The quarantine ward in the lower bailey had once been the royal armory, a cavernous stone hall with high-arched windows now shuttered tight against the driving rain.
When Evander and Mira pushed open the heavy iron doors, the wave of heat that hit them was suffocating. It smelled of scorched wool, sulfur, and dry ash.
Half a dozen temple paladins who had surrendered earlier that morning lay writhing on crude cots, their skin flushed a violent, unnatural crimson. Blisters the size of plums bubbled across their arms and necks, and as they breathed, faint wisps of smoke curled from their cracked lips.
"Step back!" one of the attending medics shouted in panic, dropping a basin of water that hissed and evaporated instantly upon hitting the stone floor. "It’s spreading! Anyone who touches them gets burned!"
Evander stepped forward, but Mira instinctively grabbed his sleeve.
"Be careful," she warned, her eyes scanning the symptoms. "This isn't a natural disease. It’s an elemental backlash."
Evander knelt beside the nearest paladin—a young man who couldn't have been older than nineteen. The boy’s eyes were bloodshot, staring wildly at the ceiling as he gasped for air.
"Your Majesty..." the boy choked out, his fingers clawing weakly at his own throat. "The... the high priest... he gave us the sacrament... before we marched out..."
"What sacrament?" Evander demanded, pressing his bare hand gently against the boy’s forehead.
To the absolute shock of the attending medics, the moment Evander’s skin made contact, the blinding, searing heat radiating from the boy’s body didn't burn the king. Instead, it flowed smoothly into Evander’s palm, neutralizing into a mild warmth. The boiling fever in the boy’s skin subsided just a fraction, allowing him to take a deeper, less ragged breath.
"He said... he said the blood of the storm... was our shield," the boy gasped, his voice barely a whisper. "He made us drink... a liquid from the deep vault... said it would make us immune to your lightning..."
Mira stepped closer, kneeling beside Evander. She took the boy’s wrist, closing her eyes as she focused her energy. The faint silver Rainkeeper mark on her arm began to glow softly. As she channeled her internal resonance, a thin stream of cool, blue-tinted mist drifted from her fingertips, sinking into the boy’s skin.
The boiling blisters began to recede, turning from angry red to a healthy pink as the toxic thermal energy was drawn out and safely dissipated into the damp air of the room.
The boy let out a long, shuddering sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as he slipped into a peaceful, natural sleep.
Mira exhaled slowly, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. She looked across the cot at Evander, her face pale.
"It’s not an infection," Mira said quietly, ensuring the other guards could hear. "It’s a forced elemental surge. Malakor wasn't just giving them a blessing. He was using a concentrated distillate of dragon’s blood—stolen from the hatchery over the years—to artificially force elemental magic into their veins. Without a proper Rainkeeper to anchor it, the power turns toxic, turning their own blood into liquid fire."
Captain Soren crossed his arms, his expression grim. "So Malakor was building an army of living incendiary weapons."
"Worse," Evander said, standing up slowly and looking down at the sleeping boy. "If the rest of the temple guards drank that distillate, there are dozens—maybe hundreds—of them stationed throughout the city. And if their magic destabilizes all at once..."
"...they will turn the entire Inner Citadel into a crater of fire," Mira finished for him.
The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the damp air of the armory. The victory in the desert felt distant now. Malakor might have been locked behind bars, but his poisoned roots ran deep through the very foundations of the empire.
"Soren," Evander ordered, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "Mobilize every loyal knight in the royal guard. Search every temple barracks, every vestry, and every hidden cellar. Confiscate every vial of distillate before anyone else drinks it."
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"And the high priest?" Soren asked.
Evander’s dark eyes narrowed into a cold, dangerous stare. "Bring him to the high tribunal room. It’s time we finish this in the light of day, where the entire city can witness the truth."
