It didn't take long before the chaos filled the air of Faymere.
Noxian slapped the letter on the table so hard it rattled the utensils. "What the heck does it even mean? Just because they're afraid, they want us to be at their command? I really hate them!"
"That's not important right now," Xion muttered, tapping his finger against the armrest. "We need to focus on this sudden illness that's wreaking havoc everywhere."
His eyes narrowed as he tried to match the symptoms with the diseases he was familiar with. "But don't you think it's strange? Our village has had no cases, while neighboring cities are already struggling."
What Xion didn't say aloud was... Why not here?
Why not Faymere, the place he lived?
He'd spent years walking on eggshells to avoid the crown's scrutiny, to avoid drawing attention. And yet, this strange exemption from the possible pandemic might as well have painted a target on his back.
