At least there’s no fever

Blood. And fire. And maybe screaming?

Miggu stumbles away from the dark infirmary building clutching his middle, his heart beating furiously and his stomach heaving painfully. Damn crystals, damn goren. Damn cave. His skin had squirmed when he saw the cave they were to go in, but he never expected he’d end up like this after. His knees hit the hard dirt a few heartbeats later, jabbing pain up his legs as rising acid burns his throat and tongue.

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The Belly of a Storm (1/?)

The streets of Silvermoon flicker with the cold glow of arcane and moonlight, and no sight has ever made Miggu’s teeth grind so painfully. He pushes the raw sides of his tongue against its cage of bone for the umpteenth time, then hisses out a breath and pushes himself up to his feet, stalking tight circuits in his little corner of the Royal Exchange and clenching the already worn letter in his fist. The audacity.. His heart thuds painfully as he thinks of the familiar, elegant script, and the faint smell of spice that accompanied the letter.

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