“I’m closing the gates,” Sorina tells the crowd gathered in the Town Hall, a large, open-air pen in the Western part of Takemeadow, near the watchtower. Most of the villagers are gathered together thanks to the frantic ringing of the bells that occurred in the late eve.


    I sit on the steps of the podium, holding my head in my hands. A headache berates me. It has been quite the day.


    The villagers murmur amongst themselves. One young man steps forth from the crowd, youthful indignance on full display.


    “My family has a trade deal coming up with Forgecrest. Are we just supposed to sit here and forget that? The money we will earn should feed us through the winter,” he says.


    “Yah, what about our trade lines?” another woman speaks up.


    “Our farms?”


    “Our children? My son is out in Netsreach!”


    A chorus of voices rises in protest, spitting out different complaints. All valid. All useless.


    Sorina raises her hands and tries to quiet the villagers down. It doesn’t particularly work. “Listen! I understand there will be some major concerns! But we cannot allow this plague to spread further than it already has. We must follow in the footsteps of Havenmarch —”


    “Havenmarch? Isn’t it their fault in the first place that the plague has reached us? Didn’t they also follow an isolation protocol?” The same young man at the front of the crowd asks.


    Others yell their agreement.


    Sorina sighs. The only good thing about this procession is that she was able to tell them that the plague spreads via touch, so now, the villagers stand a good distance apart from each other. Not that it matters. I think it''s already spread. Who knows how many of these poor bastards have been touched by the girl? The boy?


    “Why did you not close the gates earlier? Why are we responding to this so late? Surely, some news from Havenmarch must’ve reached you Sorina,” the young man says, eyes casting over both Sorina and me. He focuses on me and spits. “Unless you were too busy coveting your lover like you’ve done every evening.”


    Ah, so it''s petty jealousy then? I sigh. This will get us nowhere. What a wild and baseless accusation to level at us — he must’ve seen me visiting her nightly and assumed the wrong thing. I look at Sorina. She looks livid — as if she’s about to kill the young lad. He smiles at her reaction.


    He reminds me of myself to be honest. Did I look like that to Hui and Gareth? The thought sickens me.


    Lucian whispers something behind Sorina. She nods and lets him take the stand. He seems a little more composed than before — poor man started blaming himself for letting the girl escape. I think it does not matter — the boy probably got his hands on others as well. And… who knows what other plague-bearers came from Havenmarch or other villages. This thing… it is a dark hand that casts itself over the valley, unending and relentless. How do you fight something like that?


    Lucian clears his throat. The villagers quiet down a little. They seem to respect their village doctor a great deal. Well, it''s not as if they didn’t respect Sorina before this — they probably just needed some scapegoat.


    “Listen. Tensions are high. But, I can tell you all one thing: I have seen this plague before, in my youth. When I grew up in Grettleburg, the city-state neighboring Catolica, we were struck with the very same plague of boils and skin rot. It took my mother. Made me want to become a doctor. Eventually, it passed. But only when our local runic mage made a deal with the witch who dealt the plague.”


    What? “This is a witch plague?” I whisper to myself. The other villagers seem equally as confused.


    “Though the plague may have already spread beyond our walls, we must isolate ourselves. Certain people affected by this plague are… transformed to a degree,” he shudders when saying that. “It is dangerous if we let anyone here leave. Please,” he gets on his knees now and clasps his hands together. Some of the villagers gasp at this. “I’m begging you. Stay inside your homes. Belay your dealings and trade — put a hold on your lives, until we can find a way to fix this.”


    I look past Lucian now, eyes roving the horizon and the planes beyond our village. In the distance, I can barely make out the outlines of mountains. The Boar Ranges. No doubt the clan procession has already started. I cannot be confined here and now; I must find a way out.


    The plague cannot be my problem. This is a tragedy to be sure, but I am no gallivanting hero to save these people. I must put my goals first. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    The headache clears slightly. Some sense of purpose is restored within me.


    The procession ends soon after, with the villagers huddling into their homes, locking their doors shut, and night watchmen perusing the streets to enforce the curfew. The streets go quiet, except for the flicker of torchlight.


    Sorina, Lucian, and I stay in the Town Hall pen, silently watching the clouds clear for starlight and a half-moon’s radiance.


    “So… what now?” Sorina asks.


    “What now indeed,” Lucian parrots, taking a seat awfully close to me. I shift a little.


    “Surely, there must be some way to deal with this other than just waiting it out. Right? I mean, you said it yourself Lucian. Some mage had dealings with the witch that dealt this plague in Grettleburg. Can we not do the same?” Sorina asks.


    “It''s… not that simple,” he mutters in response. “First, we must have a way to find this witch. And I know of no such way. Even if we did find her, what would we do? Kill her? Would that cure us of the plague? Or, would it ensure its eternal pervasion? There is no right answer because we don’t know. Trust me. I’ve wanted to find this witch for years. She’s the one who caused the collapse of my hometown, the death of my family. But I have not found a way to do so.”


    There has to be some way of tracking her. Some form of magicks or something. Not that it concerns me; I should be off at midnight. Sorina’s expression is hard now. She must know of the troubles to come. Having a plague hit Takemeadow this close to winter does not bode well — she’ll have to work quite a few miracles to keep her village alive. I feel bad for her, but it is not my place.


    “Get some sleep,” I tell them. “We’ll have a long and terrible few days coming our way.”


    …


    Sorina offers me to sleep in her basement. I politely decline, citing the unsavory rumors that would go around about us. She does not take this well, slamming the door on my face. I shrug. It must be frustrating for her to deal with this. She probably needs some time. And anyway, she won’t have to worry about me much longer.


    I skip across the rooftops and leap over the village walls, quiet as a mouse. No one spots me.


    The night is ethereal. Stars and moonlight guide me back to Erot’s farm. I should’ve taken Redtail today. I think as my legs start to sore after an hour of jogging. In the morning, I had hitched a ride with a traveling caravan to Takemeadow rather than taking the palfrey, mostly because Erot said he needed the horse for the day. I was hoping that Sorina would give me a ride back tonight, but obviously, our circumstances changed.


    I thought about what to do as I made the run. At first, I planned to steal Redtail and head straight for the Boar Ranges. However, even I am not that selfish: I must tell Erot of my plans and warn him of the impending plague. Hopefully, he won’t begrudge my decision.


    As I approach those rolling fields of crop and barley, spirit berry and white cherry, I hear a scream echo out into the eve. It is a monstrous screech that grates on my ears.


    Is the farm being invaded? I cut through the fields and clutch onto the amulet sack jingling on my belt; should things get nasty, I might have to use angel dust here. As I leap over another fence and trample some barley, the screaming intensifies. It comes directly from the house.


    The front door nears. The side windows are shattered. I brace myself and rear my shoulder back before slamming it through the door, cracking its hinges, stumbling into the entrance of the house. In the dining room, Alya and her kids are huddled together at the far end of the table. Lizzy stalks across the table. What in the hells —


    The shepherd lizard is dripping blood from its maw. In the corner of the room, I see the mangled corpse of the shepherd dog. Boiled over, rotting. Lizzy is too; she’s got puss leaking from the scales, boils on her nose, and a savagery in her eyes.


    The plague got her.


    And she’s closing in on Erot’s family.


    I yell out a roar to grab the lizard’s attention. It turns to me, teeth gnashing, tongue flicking out. Hissing. I am tempted to crush an amulet, but I don’t want my lightning to endanger Alya and the kids. So, I grab a chair as Lizzy charges across the table, knocking over dishes and glasses, tearing up the white tablecloth with her claws. When she leaps for me, I swing the chair up and it shatters against the lizard, throwing it over my head, wood raining down, splinters biting into my skin.


    Lizzy lands across from us, near the stairwell.


    Before I can attack it further, Erot storms in from the doorway, pitchfork in hand. He raises the tri-pronged tool and spears Lizzy in the stomach, holding her against the stairs. The poor lizard dies slowly and dies loud, making hissing noises. I can’t help but remember its innocence — the way it used to chase Dandy and me around the fields.


    Finally, the noises stop.


    Erot looks at me, panting. He must’ve made a run here too, once he heard the screams.


    “Dandy? Dandy!” Alya yells. I look across the table, to see the children backing away as Alya shakes an unconscious Dandy.


    “Don’t touch her!” I yell. Alya doesn’t listen. I look at Ferot and Hansel. The two of them look like they’ve pissed themselves — and they look ashamed, poor lads. It probably fell on them to protect everyone else. They must think they’ve failed.


    “What happened?” I ask.


    “We don’t know, Bernard just started acting all strange, and then he grew those boils and his skin started rotting. So Dandy took him to the house and Lizzy followed and— and—” Hansel stammers out.


    I cut him off: “Did anyone besides Dandy touch Lizzy and Bernard? Has anyone touched Dandy since then?”


    “Why? Raiten why? What’s happening to my daughter?” Alya asks. Erot clasps his hand on my shoulder and pulls me back slightly.


    “It''s a plague,” I whisper to him. “Plague has come to Takemeadow. And it''s come to your farm.”


    He looks at me, eyes wide. Then he looks at Dandy and Alya and all the other children, some weeping, others shaking and shivering, terrified.


    “No…” he says. But he knows just as well as I do: we were too late.