Florian stiffened.
'Food?'
His stomach churned. The village was suffering—the curse had withered their crops, left their livestock starving. Hunger clung to the people like a second skin, their cheeks hollow, their eyes dull with exhaustion. Food was scarce. Too scarce to be offering it so freely.
'Why?'
Why would they do that?
Yet Augustus only smiled, his lined face unreadable. He turned toward the door, nodding slightly. "Just in time. Come in."
The wooden door creaked open, the sound dragging against the silence. Florian forced himself to remain composed, his posture steady, his expression neutral. But beneath the surface, unease curled tight in his chest, like fingers gripping his ribs.
Something wasn't right.
A man entered—Bill, if he remembered correctly. His thick arms carried a tray laden with food. And not just any food—meat.
