Defeat. Anger. Sadness. Pain. Shame. Betrayal. Mourning. Disbelief.
All of them surged through Arnold's mind, not in turns, but all at once, clashing, grinding, devouring one another in the chaos of his heart. He stood motionless, numb, as if the blood in his veins had turned to ice.
We have been cursed, he thought, no longer in desperation, but with solemn conviction.
It was the only explanation that could make sense of the ruin unfolding around them. What else could make the world unravel so thoroughly, so precisely, so cruelly?
He lifted his eyes from the mud at his feet to the man standing before him. The messenger looked as though he had aged decades delivering the report, soaked in rain and burdened by the knowledge he carried along with the sign of a siege that lasted two months . Yet he spoke, clearly and without faltering, relaying every word like a blade to Arnold's chest.
