Knight's Sacred Burden
Around him, the air shimmered with an oily, translucent film—the literal manifestation of the Black Spring’s influence.
"The water," the King whispered, his voice a dry rasp that sounded like gravel grinding in a barrel. "It’s not for the roots. It’s for the veins. Why won't they understand? It needs to be consumed. The city must be salted."
Julian approached with his sword drawn, his face pale. "Your Majesty? We need to know where the source is. We need to shut it down."
The King’s head snapped toward them with a mechanical, sickening jerk. His eyes were milky white, devoid of pupils, and his mouth was stained with a dark, viscous substance. "The source? You seek the source, little bird? Yo