Over the next few days, the situation deteriorated rapidly. The cursed rain continued to fall across vast regions, bringing with it sickness, panic, and despair.
Word spread fast—people were collapsing, their bodies covered in glowing blue rashes, their screams muffled only by the pounding rain.
Villages were abandoned, fields rotted under the toxic water, and more and more people flooded toward the Armstrong dukedom, desperately seeking refuge.
The duke's estate, once a symbol of strength and order, now stood surrounded by crowds of frightened and starving citizens.
The guards were overworked, food was running thin, and tensions were rising.
Nigel Armstrong stood at the front lines of it all—meeting envoys, issuing rations, and trying to calm the growing unrest.
But each day brought new complications, and with it, the weight on his shoulders grew heavier. What frustrated him most was his father's continued indifference.
