Thick black smoke blanketed the sky over Thornwick. The once-bustling streets now lay in deathly silence. Choking, acrid fumes filled the air, mixed with the metallic tang of blood and the putrid stench of decay.
At the mass burial ground in the southwest of the city, massive fires still raged. Flames crackled and hissed as they consumed what remained of human life. Charred bodies twisted in the heat while half-burned limbs occasionally tumbled from the pyre, exposing white bone.
Matthias stood on the hillside in his protective gear, staring down at the scene with complete indifference.
There wasn’t a flicker of emotion on his sharply defined face. It was as if what burned below weren’t thousands of human lives, but a field of dry grass. Dried blood stained his protective gear, gleaming dully in the sunlight.
“Your Highness, we found another 37 infected civilians in the western quarter.
We’ve brought them all here,” the assistant general reported, dropping to one knee. His voice shook slightly. 1
Matthias nodded, yet his gaze remained fixed on the direction of the burning ground. When he spoke, his tone was flat as if he were commenting on the weather.
“Toss them in.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The assistant general rose and gestured to the soldiers behind him.
37 civilians in rags were shoved forward. Some burned with fever, barely able to stay on their feet. Others moved with vacant eyes, their will to resist long since drained away.
The scorching heat hit them as they neared the flames. It jolted them awake, and a chorus of panicked screams erupted as they scrambled to back away.
But the soldiers grabbed them one by one and hurled them into the inferno. Their screams cut through the air before the crackling fire swallowed them.
“Your Highness, we’ve dealt with over 8,000 people since the burning began,” the assistant general reported again, sweat beading on his forehead.
Without turning, Matthias replied in a calm, deliberate voice, “Keep searching. Don’t let a single infected person escape.”
“Your Highness!”
Neville stepped forward, unable to stay silent any longer. He stared at the smoking burial ground and frowned.
“This can’t go on. If we kill this many civilians at once and the royal court finds out, the consequences will be unthinkable.”
He’d seen enough war to last a lifetime, but the scene in front of him still turned his stomach. He understood how deadly the plague was, but burning people without even trying to tell who was infected was inhumane.
Matthias finally turned and fixed Neville with a cold, hard stare.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said. “This plague is spreading like wildfire. If we don’t act now, and it slips out of control, Thornwick will be a graveyard.
“And when that happens, we won’t be talking about a few thousand bodies. It’ll be tens of thousands or maybe hundreds of thousands.
“As for Father, proper information control ensures he’ll never know what happened here. Once the plague ends, this will all be forgotten.”
Neville wanted to persuade him again, but that icy stare made the words die in his throat. He let out a heavy sigh and stepped back in silence.
He knew Matthias too well. Once he made a decision, nothing could change his mind. Further protest would accomplish nothing.
The soldiers continued dragging the infected into the fire. The blaze in the mass grave burned hotter by the minute, and thick black smoke poured into the sky, darkening the air above Thornwick.
Meanwhile, Sommertown presented an equally horrific scene.
Nathaniel stood atop the city walls, surveying the cordoned area below. Soldiers had dug an enormous pit in the clearing and stacked firewood around its rim.
“Bring the infected here,” he commanded, his voice devoid of any warmth.
Soon after, a group of civilians was herded in. Most wore rags and bore black-blue lesions across their skin.
Many coughed violently, spraying blood-flecked sputum. Some clutched feverish children whose faces burned red and whose breathing came in shallow gasps.
“Please spare my child. He’s just a little boy.”
A woman collapsed to her knees, still holding her son. She knocked her head against the ground until blood ran down her face.
Nathaniel watched impassively, like he couldn’t even hear her begging.
“Throw them in.”
Soldiers stepped forward and yanked the child from her arms. Both were hurled into the pit along with the others. The pit echoed with screams and people begging for their lives.
“Set it on fire,” he said flatly.
A torch was tossed into the pit. The dry kindling caught instantly, and flames raced across the fuel. The screaming stopped all at once, replaced by the awful sound of flesh crackling in the heat.
Thick smoke billowed up and spread across the sky over Sommertown. The stench was even worse than what hung over Thornwick.
An elderly man broke from the crowd, trying to reach his family in the burning pit. One soldier’s blade cut him down before he took three steps. His blood pooled on the dirt.
“Anyone who resists will be executed on the spot!” Nathaniel barked, his eyes blazing with murderous intent.
Below the wall, a boy of maybe seven or eight peered out from behind a stack of lumber. He looked from the roaring flames to the cold figure above, with fear and confusion written all over his small face.
His parents had been among those thrown into the pit. Only his hiding place had saved him from the same fate.
The fire continued its work, devouring life after life. Sommertown’s remaining citizens cowered in doorways and alleys, too terrified to make a sound…
The entire city had become a vast tomb, with only that burning pit bearing witness to the horror that had unfolded.
