Miguel and the wizard walked through the village streets, their boots sinking into the thick snow that covered the ground, creating a muffled sound with each step. The cold wind blew through the abandoned houses and deserted streets, making everything feel even more desolate. From time to time, they could see chimneys with a faint smoke rising, indicating that some people were still trying to resist the cold. The silence was disturbing, broken only by the sound of the wind and the distant hooves of their horses in the camp.

  As they passed by an alley, Miguel noticed something on the ground. He looked closer and saw bodies lying on the snow. "This is terrible..." he said, covering his nose with his hand, trying to alleviate the smell of death and decay that hung in the air. The wizard, on the other hand, remained silent, observing the scene with a somber gaze.

  They finally reached the guardhouse. The door was ajar, and as they entered, the sight that awaited them was devastating. Practically all the guards were dead, scattered throughout the main hall. Some bodies were sitting as if they had died while still trying to resist the cold and disease. The windows were closed, making the air inside even more unbearable, filled with mold and the odor of death.

  "This... this is terrible," Miguel murmured, feeling the weight of the horror of the situation. He placed his hand on his face, trying to ignore the bad smell emanating from the environment. Sadness enveloped him as he left the guardhouse, his eyes still observing the death and destruction around him.

  As they left, Miguel and the wizard headed towards a large house in the center of the village, which seemed to be the place where the local leader lived. When they entered, they were greeted by an equally terrible sight. In the entrance hall, there were several makeshift cots scattered on the floor, all occupied by bodies of people who had succumbed to the disease. Some dead, others unconscious, seeming to just wait for death. The room was cold, and the natural darkness of winter invaded the space, giving an even more morbid tone.

  In the corner of the room, Miguel noticed a child lying next to her parents, both dead. The child's face was pale, and she seemed to have died not long ago. Miguel felt a deep pain in his chest at the sight of that scene. He averted his gaze, and at that moment, he heard a weak voice behind him.

  "Who are you?"

  Miguel and the wizard quickly turned around. Standing near the entrance was a child about 12 years old. She was malnourished, her face thin and her clothes in rags, but her eyes still carried a spark of life. Her voice was low and hoarse, but carried an unexpected strength.

  "What are you doing here?" asked the child, with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

  "We are here to help," Miguel replied calmly, trying to reassure the young girl. He stepped forward, his boots crushing the snow that had entered through the door.

  The wizard added, "We just want to help, there’s no need to worry."

  The child looked at them, her gaze distant. "Almost everyone is already dead... There's no one left to help."

  The wizard frowned. "Is there anyone else with you? Anyone still alive?"

  The girl hesitated for a moment, as if pondering whether she could trust them. "Yes," she finally replied. "There are a few more people... fifteen, including me. They are in a house a bit away from the village center."

  The wizard looked curiously at the child, pulling a small amulet from inside his tunic. He discreetly pointed it at the girl, and, to his surprise, the amulet glowed faintly. The girl had mana, though in an extremely low amount, almost imperceptible to a wizard without the amulet. But it was enough to ward off the disease.

  "You have mana," the wizard said, impressed.

  The child widened her eyes. "I... I have mana?" She seemed confused and at the same time hopeful. "Does that mean I can become a wizard too?"

  The wizard chuckled softly and nodded. "Maybe, one day. But for now, we need to see these survivors. Can you take us to them?"

  The girl nodded and began walking, guiding Miguel and the wizard through the deserted, snow-covered streets toward the house where the last survivors of the village were still holding on.

  Miguel and the wizard walked down the snow-covered street toward the house where the last survivors of the village were. The cold wind cut their faces, and the desolate sight of corpses and absolute silence weighed on their hearts. When they arrived, Miguel gently pushed open the worn wooden door. The house seemed small and simple, with wooden walls and a roof covered by a thin layer of snow, while the fireplace in the corner still had some nearly extinguished embers.

  Upon entering, they were met with a surprising sight. All the people still alive were children and teenagers, ranging in age from 6 to 16. They were huddled together, frightened, but at the same time, they seemed resigned to the situation. The room was illuminated only by the faint light entering through the ice-covered windows, and the air was heavy, mixed with the smell of smoke and cold.

  One of the teenagers, the oldest, around 16 years old, recognized Miguel. He looked at the king with wide eyes and, with effort, knelt in reverence. His knees trembled, the weakness evident. Miguel hurried to help him up, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

  "You don't need to do that," Miguel said in a soft voice. "Please, stand up."

  The teenager stood up, still visibly emotional, while the other children watched curiously. Miguel observed the group, surprised that they were all so young.

  "How have you all survived here?" Miguel asked, trying to understand how these children were still alive while the entire village succumbed to the disease.

  The teenager looked at him, confused. "We... we don't know, sir. The disease... it just ignores us."

  The wizard took out his amulet again, passing it from child to child, and soon confirmed what he had suspected before. "They have small amounts of mana in their bodies. All of them. Even though it's a tiny amount, it seems to be enough to ward off the disease."

  Miguel exchanged a look with the wizard, impressed. "That's incredible."

  Stolen story; please report.

  One of the younger children, a girl of perhaps 8 years old, timidly approached Miguel. She gently tugged on his jacket sleeve and asked innocently, "Are you... are you the king?"

  Miguel looked at the girl, his expression softening. He knelt to be at her eye level, a look of pity and compassion on his face. "Yes, I am the king. And I’m here to help you."

  Another child, this time a 10-year-old boy, shook his head sadly. "It’s too late, sir. Everyone is already gone..."

  The wizard, who was still cautiously observing the environment, remarked, "I saw some chimneys still working in a few houses."

  The eldest teenager nodded, his expression grim. "Those chimneys are from the last ones who remained... But they are already dead. I saw them."

  Miguel sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility. "Even if you are immune to the disease, it's not safe to stay here." He looked at the group of children, their hearts broken by the reality they were living in. "We will take all of you to our camp. There, you will be safe."

  The children agreed without hesitation. With Miguel and the wizard's help, they began to gather their belongings. Some had few possessions, a doll, an old blanket, but all quickly prepared to leave. The eldest teenager helped the younger ones get organized, trying to appear strong despite the visible weakness in his body.

  As they walked out of the house, the wizard approached Miguel and spoke in a low voice, "There may be a solution to combat this curse, this Mana disease. But I will need time... and to conduct many tests. I can’t promise anything, but I’m willing to try."

  Miguel nodded with a serious look. "Take as much time as you need. If there is something we can do to stop this from spreading, we must try."

  They left the village, walking back through the snow-covered streets, with the children following closely. The cold wind blew, but now, with a renewed sense of hope, Miguel felt that perhaps there was a way to save these lives and, who knows, stop this plague before it spread further.

  Arriving at the camp with the children, Miguel gave clear orders to the soldiers. "Make sure these children have food and a place to rest. They’ve been through a lot."

  The soldiers promptly obeyed, guiding the children to a nearby area where they could warm up and eat. The cold morning air mingled with the smoke from the campfires burning around the camp. The tents were covered with a thin layer of snow, and the sound of footsteps crunching on the frozen ground echoed in the silent environment.

  Miguel entered his tent along with the wizard. He approached the improvised wooden table, where several scrolls and documents were piled up, and sat down. The wizard began organizing some papers, trying to gather his thoughts on how they could deal with the plague ravaging the region. Before the conversation could proceed, a soldier entered the tent, bowing slightly in respect.

  "Your Majesty, a letter has arrived from Drakmoor. It's from John."

  Miguel thanked with a nod and took the letter. The soldier left the tent, closing the canvas flap to block the cold wind from entering. Silence filled the tent as Miguel began to read. As his eyes skimmed the lines written by John, he felt a slight satisfaction. The first words reported the success of the cannon and pistol tests, something that pleasantly surprised Miguel. Without him there to directly supervise, Arthur, Benjamin, and the other blacksmiths had managed to manufacture and test the weapons successfully.

  "Impressive..." Miguel murmured to himself. "They really pulled it off."

  He reflected for a moment, thinking about how, once he returned to Drakmoor, he would hand over the rifle design to Arthur. If they had already built a cannon and pistols so successfully, the rifle would be the next natural step. The fact that Benjamin had managed to create functional ammunition, even without ideal materials, also impressed him. "That kid... He's brilliant," Miguel thought with a slight smile.

  However, as he continued reading, the tone of his expression changed. John reported that the Mana disease was also spreading in the kingdom of Ardia and in the duchy ruled by Aurelio. The duke's drastic and ruthless measures were to be expected. Entire villages were being burned, their inhabitants massacred in an attempt to contain the plague.

  Miguel sighed heavily. He knew his brother Aurelio well and was aware that such cruel and irresponsible actions were typical of him. "Of course, he would do that..." Miguel thought with disdain. "That’s his way of dealing with things... With brute force and no regard for human lives."

  Closing the letter, he set it aside and ran his hand over his face, visibly tired and worn out by the news. Before he could get lost in his thoughts, the wizard, who was standing near the entrance, observing Miguel closely, broke the silence.

  "From the look on your face, I assume the news isn’t all good."

  Miguel let out a muffled, almost ironic laugh. "Things aren’t always good. It seems my brother is dealing with the plague in the worst possible way, burning villages and murdering villagers as if they were mere disposable objects. But, in a way, I already expected this."

  The wizard nodded in understanding. "Many people deal with the unknown with fear and destruction. The Mana disease is frightening, yes, but... there are better ways to face it."

  "I agree." Miguel rested his elbows on the table and stared at the flickering candle flame in front of him. "We need to be better. We need a solution that doesn’t involve the sacrifice of innocents."

  The wizard observed Miguel for a moment, admiring the determination and compassion he maintained, even in such dark times. "You have a brilliant mind, Your Majesty. If anyone can find a solution without resorting to unchecked violence, it’s you. If that weren’t the reason, you wouldn’t have summoned me."

  Miguel nodded, but still seemed deep in thought. "I hope so... But now, I need to find a way to save these people and stop this plague from spreading. And at the same time, I need to prepare Drakmoor for whatever comes next."

  With that, Miguel leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts, while the cold wind beat against the walls of the tent.