Luna was given a straightforward task—or at least, that's what she thought when she accepted it. She was to inspect the western region of the continent, a small, remote village near the borders of Argon's territory but officially governed by Aethernox.
The report she received was brief but concerning. People had been falling sick for weeks now, and many weren't surviving.
The illness spread quietly, taking its victims one by one, and those who didn't have strong bodies or high magical resistance rarely lasted beyond a few days. Even those who endured were said to be left weak and trembling, their bodies pale and their eyes sunken as if something had been drained from within them.
The older ones—those who had lived through wars and famines—were the first to fall. It wasn't just death that troubled the locals, though; it was how silent and quick the sickness seemed to move, like a shadow whispering from house to house.
