The wound on my leg sizzles and burns. I scream, as loud as I can. Nothing. No miracles, no divine intervention. It’s just me. The flaming sword scorches my wounds, cleansing them of their impurities. It rends the flesh and melds it shut.

A few beads of sweat are enough to transfer the fungal disease between two individuals. A lover’s kiss, a simple sneeze, or a night of passion. It’s enough to infiltrate their body, putting them under the haze of the Tender Rust. Even now, I can feel its effects; that warm feeling, as if one is being held in a goddesses’ embrace.

It’s too much. Between the open wound in my leg and the blood I must’ve accidentally swallowed, this damned creature got the better of me. I knew I shouldn’t have gone in alone. It’ll only be a matter of minutes before the fungus attaches itself to my body, and the infection becomes irreversible. The only course for someone like me would be death. An honorable end to our long service against the Rust.

Placing the blade against my neck, the flames begin to singe my flesh. The skin prickles and flays, the scruff on my chin burns up in an instant. The sharp edge makes contact with my neck, and a drop of blood sizzles against the hot steel. This should’ve been the end.

But I’m not ready yet. Honour be damned, I have a promise to fulfill to my men. We will get through this. We will. I withdraw the blade from my neck. It leaves a painful mark where my flesh was tinged, probably blackened and bloodied.

No. I will finish this myself. I will walk through the gates of that village, and slaughter every one of them for what they’ve done to us.

I will kill that witch. I clutch the charm of Lady Coedraig hanging around my neck, and send a prayer in her name. It’s about time I show them what I’m made of. For my Lady, for our Goddess. So that her memory may not be tainted.

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Pushing myself back on my feet, I realize that my injured leg struggles to support me. Instead, I lean on my sword, using it as a cane, and limp deeper into the woods. If I go far enough north from here, I should be able to find the village. If I can get there before the infection spreads too far, I can still fulfill my duty. I promised them I’d get us through this safely.

Before long, I make it to a clearing. I unpack some of the supplies I had taken for my patrol. Three days worth of rations. A casket of water, enough to last me another five if I ration it well. A blanket, for the cold. Some bandages, and more of that flammable oil. Not exactly a survival kit, but enough for what I’m about to do. I grab one of the rations, and slowly begin eating it. It attracts the attention of the various insects in the region, which I have to fight for my food. Swatting them away all while trying to consume a hardened piece of bread. At some point, one of them gets in between my teeth. Its hard shell feels unpleasantly tough, and it squirms a final time before I bring down my teeth upon it again. I’ve gotten rather used to the sensation of eating bugs, but it never ceases to make me gag.

As if the world itself chose to spite me, a raven lands in front of me. It pecks at some of the bugs, which scatter and fly away the moment they see the large bird land on my outstretched leg. Its claws nearly pierce into my exposed flesh. This aggressive bird must be used to human contact. It peers into my eyes, cocking its head. Its beak is covered in fungal honey. Must’ve been drinking the damn stuff, or had it fed to it. Actually, weren’t all these mushrooms edible? Now that I’m thinking about it, I no longer need to worry about getting infected. I could eat this stuff, and survive just for a few days longer. Long enough to hold out, at least. I’ve heard the fungal honey can also help forestall the rate at which the infection claims your life. Maybe, just maybe…

What am I thinking? I can’t reduce myself to their level. I mustn’t. I’m not that desperate yet. I’m stronger than them.

I must prove it to them.