Chapter 108: The Children (1)

The scent of blood and unwashed bodies mingled in the air as we entered the infirmary. It was warmer than usual, with the hearth blazing fiercely to combat the relentless winter outside. Rows of beds stretched before me, each one filled with wide-eyed, hollow-cheeked children wrapped in thick blankets that still seemed inadequate to their needs. Their small frames shivered—whether from cold or fear, I couldn't tell.

"I'm still hungry," one whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible. His words spread through the room like a ripple on still water, echoed by others: "Hungry." "We're still hungry."

Servants bustled around with trays of bread, broth, and whatever scraps the kitchen could spare on short notice. Even as they ate, their eyes darted nervously to the corners of the room, as though expecting something terrible to lunge from the shadows.