Illian doesn’t care about saving Kalathar. He can barely be bothered to keep himself alive, guilt and ash lingering like stones in his lungs. Then again… when does he ever get what he wants?

A dull escort job spirals into a waking nightmare. In a land that rots in its sleep, a monstrous plague rewrites flesh and soul, turning men feral. Illian is dragged into a deadly conspiracy where noble blood is sacred, peasant lives are fertilizer, and bureaucracy keeps grinding on all the same.

He must outpace assassins, abominations, and the full weight of the law—this one’s mostly his fault—and trace the plague to its festering cyst.

All the while, his sanity is fraying, chipped away by a tantalizing voice that whispers salvation. It probably lies. To everyone.

Armed with just seven days, a knack for bad decisions, and serviceable sword skills, Illian must uncover the truth to save his own sorry skin… and maybe the kingdom.

Or there won’t be much left of either.