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Romiiel's golden energy gathered, flowing from his hand with boundless force, wrapping itself around Reishel's frail body. Every thread of light wove itself carefully around him, as if stitching a sacred tapestry. Slowly, a transparent cocoon began to form—radiating with a beautiful golden glow—surrounding Reishel and sealing him off from the outside world, like a fortress of light, a castle of healing. Inside the cocoon, Reishel's groans and pained breaths gradually faded. He seemed to fall into a deep slumber, enveloped in a healing aura that breathed life back into his weary form.
Once Romiiel was certain the cocoon was secure around Reishel, he stood swiftly and moved to Silas, who was still coughing up blood and writhing in intense pain, struggling to breathe. He repeated the same process—kneeling beside him, placing his glowing hand on Silas's chest—and once more, the golden light began to take shape. Another cocoon formed, nearly identical to the first. It became clear that Romiiel possessed a power beyond human understanding—a mythical force unlike anything they had ever seen.
As the room continued to glow with the radiance of the two golden cocoons, and the others still stood in stunned silence at what they were witnessing, a servant suddenly burst into the room, his face pale and dripping with cold sweat, gasping for breath.
"My Lord! Your Majesty!" The servant cried out in a trembling voice, "There… there are many of the Emperor's royal guards at the gate! They bring urgent news—!"
Before he could finish his sentence, one of the royal guards shoved him violently to the ground. The servant fell hard, groaning in pain, but the guard showed no concern. He entered the room with false solemnity, followed by a group of soldiers with expressionless faces and eyes as cold as stone. The guard himself was massive, muscular, clad in gleaming armor that creaked with every movement. His eyes held a chilling cruelty, as though they saw nothing but orders. In his hand, he carried a scroll of papyrus, carefully rolled.
"Step aside, you lowly servant!"
The guard snarled at the servant who was struggling to stand, then turned to those in the room with a sneer of mockery and scorn twisting his ugly face.
"I come bearing a decree from His Most Glorious Majesty, the Emperor!"
A heavy silence settled over the room. The only sound was the faint moaning of the sick, echoing like a blade through the heart.
The guard raised the rolled papyrus and read aloud in a loud, emotionless voice:
"By order of this supreme imperial decree, and due to the catastrophic and terrifying spread of the Hantavirus epidemic in the Kingdom of Arcadios, and out of fear that it may spread uncontrollably to the other nine realms, it has been decided to take strict and decisive measures to protect the Empire and its people. The entire Kingdom of Arcadios, along with all its inhabitants, shall be burned—without exception. All gates and crossings will be sealed to ensure no one escapes—neither commoners nor nobles. Arcadios shall be erased from the map of the Ten Kingdoms. This measure is necessary to protect the remaining realms and ensure the Empire's safety."
Upon hearing this, everyone froze—the blood in their veins turning to ice.
Michael shouted in fury and disbelief, his eyes ablaze with rage:
"What?! This is madness! How can you do this?! There are people who aren't infected! Innocent children! Frail elders! Pregnant women! They have no blame in this horrific act! You're murdering innocent lives in cold blood!"
The guard let out a hideous laugh, sounding like the creaking of ancient doors opening into hell.
"Heh! Blame? You foolish boy—no one defies the Emperor's orders! Life means nothing when weighed against the safety of the entire Empire. Death is the fastest and most effective solution to eliminate the disease!"
He then turned his back, giving a chilling command to the soldiers:
"Let's go! Prepare the fire! Time to begin the Grand Cleansing!"
The guard and his companions left, their evil laughter echoing through the room, leaving behind a wave of horror and shock.
Everyone stood frozen in place, wrapped in a heavy cloak of helplessness.
Ashton dropped to his knees, clutching his head with both hands, shaking in despair.
Emily collapsed into hysterical sobs, while Warner clenched his fists tightly, struggling to hold back his fury.
Inside his glowing cocoon, Reishel could hear every word—each one cutting into him with agonizing clarity.
He couldn't speak or move.
It was as if he were in a deep coma, with only voices swirling through his dazed mind—screams, threats, and the weight of doom.
It wasn't long before the walls began to tremble. Torches were lit outside, and burning liquids were thrown onto the dry wooden houses.
The city erupted in flames—red and orange fires dancing into the sky.
The blaze crept in through windows, climbed walls, and devoured everything in its path with insatiable hunger. Thick columns of black smoke rose into the sky, blotting out the sun, turning day into a nightmare of darkness.
People began running and screaming through the streets—cries of pain and desperation tearing through the air—as they tried to escape the merciless flames chasing them.
Their screams mixed with the cruel laughter of the guards, who stood watching the city burn, watching innocent civilians collapse, turning to ash before their eyes.
"Stop this madness! How can you just stand there and watch?!"
Warner, usually calm, shouted with a face flushed with fury, his eyes blazing.
"The king will be furious! He'll never allow this! He'll hold you accountable for every soul!"
One of the guards shoved him coldly.
"I don't care. That's if your so-called king is even alive. The emperor's orders are the law!"
The fire devoured everything—homes, shops, trees—even the streets that once bustled with life had turned into a living hell.
Everything they once knew about the Kingdom of Arcadios was vanishing in a heap of ash.
Romiiël, his face twisted in pain and his golden eyes burning with deep sorrow, rushed toward Kren, Ashton, Warner, Emily, and Michael, who stood helpless before the horrific scene.
He extended his hand toward them, and three glowing, transparent cocoons—like those around Reishel and Silas—formed around them.
Each cocoon housed two people, shielding them from the fire and the rising smoke, offering a temporary refuge from the surrounding inferno.
"Get in!"
Romiiël commanded in a deep, firm voice.
"The cocoons will protect you from all external harm. You must go inside."
One by one, they entered the golden cocoons. Ashton, still in shock, held his head in his hands.
Romiiël placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his eyes filled with deep sorrow for all that was unfolding, and guided him into the cocoon formed by the last of his golden energy.
From within the cocoon, they could still see the people around them burning.
The sight was unbearable.
They saw an old man, engulfed in flames, kneeling on the ground in prayer. A woman clutching her child, screaming, just before the fire consumed them both.
Screams tore through the soul, and the scent of burning flesh filled the air—even within the cocoons.
And in that moment, a little girl—no older than seven—appeared, clutching her infant brother who trembled with fear and tears. She stood just outside the glowing cocoon, sobbing uncontrollably, begging them with all her might—for the only safety she could see.
"Please... please... protect me from the fire!"
She screamed in a broken voice that pierced the heart.
"My mommy and daddy... they disappeared in the smoke! I don't know where they are!"
Then she raised her infant brother toward them, her face smeared with ash and frozen tears.
"It's okay if I burn! Just save my little brother! He didn't do anything wrong! Please!"
Ashton lowered his head in complete despair, drowning in helplessness.
He couldn't do anything.
His hands were bound inside the cocoon, powerless.
The weight of his failure as a doctor—no, as a human being—was too much to bear.
He saw the girl's pleading eyes rise to meet theirs, heard her trembling voice, but the cocoon stood like an unbreakable barrier.
Her scream rose... and then stopped.
Only the soft crackle of burning followed.
Michael turned to Warner and whispered in a strained voice, barely audible through the roaring flames and screaming guards:
"Warner! Use the cloaking spell—hide us from their eyes!"
Without hesitation, Warner obeyed, his eyes shut tight, trying to block out the horrifying images burned into his memory.
His hands glowed with a soft blue light, and a thin magical mist flowed from them, wrapping around the five cocoons.
In moments, they vanished completely from sight—hidden from the guards, from the fire, from the madness.
People continued to burn.
Cities turned to ash, one after another.
Their screams faded into the roar of flames, while the stench of burning flesh filled the air—a smell that would never be forgotten.
A scent that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.
The burning lasted for many long hours—from early morning until midnight.
The flames finally dimmed, leaving behind glowing embers and thick smoke rising slowly into the gray sky.
Then, suddenly, the cocoons' protection faded.
Everyone emerged from the golden shields, breathing in the heavy air thick with ash—air filled with the stench of death and destruction.
Michael rushed to catch Reishel, who was still half-conscious, his body trembling.
Emily hurried to support Silas, whose condition was no better than Reishel's.
They looked around them. The scene was more terrifying than their nightmares could imagine. The houses were completely demolished, their walls charred and their roofs collapsed. Charred bodies lay on the ground in painful positions, some barely recognizable, just black structures. The smell of burning human flesh was strong and nauseating, stirring their guts. It was a horrifying sight, making hearts tremble, a scene etched in memory forever as a witness to the atrocity. A terrifying silence hung over the place, broken only by the cold wind's moan, carrying ash, as if weeping over what had happened.
Reishel slowly began to open his eyes, blinking several times until he was fully awake, but his eyes were empty, carrying a coldness he had never known before, as if he had seen another world of horror. Everyone gathered before him with faces filled with worry and hope, but they soon noticed the change. He stepped away from Michael with staggering steps, barely supported by his feet, but they were determined steps, filled with a new kind of strength.
"Take me... to the palace..."
Reishel whispered in a hoarse voice, but it carried a tone of command that brooks no argument, a voice as cold as ice.
"My lord, you cannot move now, you have not regained your full strength yet!"
Michael said anxiously, trying to hold him.
But Reishel yelled at them, louder this time, carrying a hidden anger and cruelty that had not been in him before:
"Take me... to the palace! Now! I cannot bear another moment in this hell!"
Silas woke up due to Reishel's scream and slowly rose, looking around him with similar panic, also affected by what he saw. There was no choice. They began walking towards the palace, which was not very far, but every step was heavy, as if they were walking on the remnants of hell itself.
They arrived at what was once the great Arkadius Palace. Now, it was just a shattered, completely demolished and burned structure, like a black shadow in the night. Some small tongues of fire still consumed the charred wood, rising into the air as if they were tormented souls finding no rest. Reishel advanced with steady steps towards the rubble, heedless of the danger. Michael tried to stop him, fearing his collapse, but Reishel did not stop. He continued his walk until he stumbled upon something strange under his feet. He bent down to pick it up, and it turned out to be a book he had never seen before. The book was thick, with a black cover made of a strange material resembling polished stone, and slightly burned at the edges, but its content seemed surprisingly intact, as if the fire had not touched it.
He tried to open it, but it was tightly sealed as if fused shut. Reishel's weakness from illness prevented him from forcing it open, and he collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood again.
Mikael rushed to him quickly.
"My lord! Didn't I tell you that you cannot move!"
But with the violent coughing, some drops of his blood fell onto the book, which began to glow faintly. Reishel grabbed it again and tried to open it. The moment he did, the book suddenly flew into the air with a strange magical force unlike anything they had ever seen. Its pages began flipping at a frantic speed, making a sound like the fluttering wings of a dragon.
From one of the pages, a powerful magical energy burst forth, glowing bright red like the sun. It shot into Reishel's body like a lightning bolt from the sky, piercing every cell within him.
His body ignited with immense power, seeming to tear him apart from inside and out, every bone crumbling and rebuilding itself.
Reishel screamed in excruciating pain—heart-wrenching cries that cracked the walls around them. His screams carried an unbelievable agony, as if thousands of needles pierced his flesh and his mind was being torn apart.
They rushed to help him, but an invisible barrier kept them away, as if the book's power didn't want anyone to interfere with his radical transformation.
The screaming went on for what felt like an eternity, while the red energy pulsed around him, rising and falling, devouring and reshaping his body.
"We need to get away!"
Ashton shouted, trying to protect the others from the glowing energy.
"What's happening to him?!"
Mikael shouted in panic, unable to get closer.
Then, gradually, the red energy dimmed. The book fell to the ground with a soft thud. Reishel collapsed with it, his body trembling violently—but not from illness, rather from the immense power coursing through him.
They finally ran to him, terrified of what they might find. But the shock was greater than they expected. Reishel stood up by himself!
He looked incredibly healthy, fully healed from the disease. The traces of coughing, blood, and weakness were gone—as if he had never been sick in his life.
But his eyes… were different.
They shone a bright red, reflecting no warmth, only coldness and mysterious power.
Only seconds later, they returned to their original blue.
They were stunned by this, but at the same time, relieved.
Reishel's return was a miracle in itself, despite the change.
But Reishel paid no attention to their reactions.
His gaze was very cold, devoid of any warmth or joy, as if life had been stolen from him, as if a new being was born from the ashes.
He grasped the black book, now open to the page that had unleashed its power, then looked toward the horizon, where smoke still rose from the remains of the burned kingdom, and devastation stretched in every direction.
"I will have my revenge..."
Reishel said in a voice they had never heard before—deep and cold, carrying a solemn weight, as if the words of fate itself were coming from his mouth.
"I will avenge every innocent soul stolen from this kingdom.
I will burn them and erase them as they burned and erased us all.
They will taste the same hell they made for us!
Nothing will be left of them!"
His words were heavy and powerful, carrying a terrifying promise of vengeance, echoing through the scorched ruins, announcing the beginning of a new era of darkness and cold justice that knows no mercy.
Everyone looked at each other, shock mixed with fear taking hold.
Reishel had survived, but he was no longer the Reishel they once knew...
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