Chapter 61. The Triangle of Mortality (Trailer)

“... 536 AD is the worst year to be alive. The sun has been hiding for eighteen months now, leaving a smoky haze lingering all day long. Every morning, it seems like the rain is about to kiss the ground —dark clouds teasing us with rumblings from above –yet the famine persists, crops fail, and hunger continues. Waking up with hopes that the heavens  would release the waters has become tiring.” A cranky baritone voice ripples through the air, the mild sound of an acoustic guitar forming a backdrop for it.

“The stink of the disease is the worst— a smell of pus persisting in the air throughout the city— attracting flies and ticks...” His lamentations continue to describe the state of the land in recent times. It stings my heart. The fact that I can still hear his threnody confirms that he is even closer to me than every other person on this tableau. It is almost as if he blames me for the blight that has overrun the realm.

I pull my mind