Outside the Bar – Morning
The sunlight poured over Veymoor Hollow like golden fire. But no warmth came with it.
Villagers lined the cracked dirt path, their eyes hollow, bodies swaying in the heat. Some clutched their sides. Others held crying children. All of them stood for one reason—the Paradise Healing Juice.
Ryan stood by the cart, hands stained with green tincture, giving out bottles two at a time. "Next!" he called out, but his voice was flat, like a broken drumbeat. Another man stepped forward, eyes desperate, hands trembling.
Caelen stood at the entrance of the bar, leaning against the frame, his mismatched eyes—one green, one blue—scanning the scene.
They were dying slowly.
He could see it.
Not from wounds or injuries. From something deeper. Something wrong.
The juice was only delaying the inevitable. These people didn't need a cure. They needed a cleansing. A purge.
