Grace said, “These princes sit in their high positions but treat their people like dirt beneath their feet. When Father sent them to the Ashen Coast, he wanted them to grow as leaders and protect the lives under their care. Instead, all they do is fight for power and use human lives as chess pieces in their political games.”
Her face flushed with anger, but her eyes went cold. As angry as she was, what cut deeper was the disappointment. In her eyes, none of her three brothers were fit to rule, and none of them deserved the throne.
“Now isn’t the time to point fingers,” Dustin said. “Right now, we need to focus on saving those innocent people.”
He didn’t think much of Tristan, Matthias, or Nathaniel either.
To him, Tristan was a hypocrite who put on one mask in public and showed his true nature behind closed doors. Matthias was a brutal hothead with more muscle than brains. Meanwhile, Nathaniel was nothing but a selfish, petty man who would sacrifice anyone for personal gain.
“Mr. Rhys is right,” Sadie said grimly. 11
Those people are trapped in hell right now.
We’re their only hope.”
Grace drew a long breath and forced down her rage until she was calm again.
She quickly ordered, “Get a rescue team ready. We’re heading to Harbortown at full speed to save as many lives as we can.”
The reason she’d chosen Harbortown wasn’t because the outbreak couldn’t be contained, but because Thornwick and Sommertown were already beyond saving.
After all, Matthias and Nathaniel had dealt with their infected populations by burning them alive. Even if she rushed a team to those cities now, there would be almost no one left to save.
At least Tristan’s hands-off approach had given the plague victims in Harbortown a sliver of hope. As for how many lives could be saved, all she could do was to do everything humanly possible and hope for the best.
Under Grace’s command, a rescue team quickly set out from Reedcrest, heading straight for Harbortown.
In Harbortown’s slums, a ten-foot-high wooden wall enclosed the area like a giant prison. The humid air reeked of vomit and rotting flesh.
Sharpened wooden stakes lined the top of the wall, and scraps of cloth fluttered from the tips. It was the last trace of those who had tried to climb out.
More than 5,000 people were crammed into the muddy clearing below. There wasn’t a single intact sleeping mat or place to rest, just cold, wet ground.
In the corner, a weak child’s cry broke the silence. A woman in tattered clothes was gently patting the child’s back with hands chapped and cracked from the cold.
Her bare arms were covered in dark blotches, and every cough sent a bulging mass rising from her chest like something ready to burst.
“Water… Does anyone have water…”
A frail old man lay sprawled in the dirt, clawing at clumps of grass with skeletal fingers. The skin on his neck had begun to fester, oozing with a sickly yellow-green pus.
Nearby, two burly men tore at half a moldy cornbread, their cloudy eyes filled with hunger. They didn’t even notice the maggots crawling into their filthy, tattered clothes.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted from one of the shacks on the west side. Several plague-infected patients collapsed to the ground, convulsing as their skin turned pitch-black before their eyes.
The uninfected screamed and tried to back away, but the crowd pressed in from all sides. They could only watch in horror as the dark blotches spread across the patients’ bodies.
“Don’t touch them. They’re contagious,” someone shouted, and panic exploded through the crowd.
Some of them picked up rocks and hurled them at the infected. Others tried to climb over the wooden wall, stepping on whoever was in the way.
In the chaos, a woman carrying her baby was shoved to the ground. The infant slipped from her arms and hit the muddy earth. Before it could even cry out, panicked feet trampled over it.
“Guards! We’re not sick. Let us out.”
Those who hadn’t shown any symptoms dropped to their knees at the wooden barrier, shaking the rough fence with all their strength.
Through the slits in the wall, the soldiers. could be seen moving outside. They watched the tragic scene inside with cold indifference, while occasionally jabbing their spears at anyone who got too close.
“What the hell are you yelling at? Prince Tristan has ordered you all to stay here.”
The broad-faced officer spat out the stalk of grass he’d been chewing and ground his boot heel over a bloodstain. He added, “We’ll let you out when this outbreak ends, provided you’re still alive by then.”
Before he’d finished speaking, a chorus of coughing erupted from the east. A dozen civilians, perfectly healthy just moments ago, dropped to their knees, clutching their chests. Black froth spilled from their lips.
Terror spread faster than the outbreak itself. More voices joined the desperate wailing. Some people began banging their heads against the wooden posts while others clawed at each other’s hair.
The entire prison had become a vision of hell on earth.
As dusk fell, rain began to drizzle down. The water washed away surface filth but couldn’t cleanse the despair that hung thick in the air.
More bodies curled in the mud. It was impossible to tell who was asleep and who would never wake again. Only the tattered banner on the wooden wall made any sound, snapping like a whimper in the wind and rain.
