Romilla thought that last was unlikely, but as they staggered in a bewildered daze through the empty streets, she saw that much of Eleanora’s wish seemed to be coming true. Fungal slurry slicked the cobbles and the stink of rot filled the air. Corpses of greenskins and squigs lay everywhere, mingled in amongst the bodies of the Draconium dead. In places, they waded through the dried out husks of foul insects, heaped now like mountainous drifts of fallen leaves. What had killed them, Romilla could not say for sure, but she presumed that without the light of the Bad Moon these vile things, too, had withered and died. The only other suggestion of the greenskins or their foul creatures that she saw was hints of movement in the deepest shadows, red eyes glinting and wicked fangs bared in snarls of fear as the grots fled back underground.

They rounded a corner into a wide thoroughfare and Romilla tensed as she saw two of the spore-sickened lurching towards them. Yet she realised that the cursed creatures were stumbling and gasping, their flesh bubbling like the toadstools at their feet. As she watched, skin and muscle sloughed from their bones and noxious froth spilled from their mouths, noses and eye sockets. One of the infected reached a withering hand towards her as it fell to its knees, and for a horrible moment Romilla thought she saw a glint of terror in its eyes. Then it collapsed into a mouldering heap and she put the thought from her mind as best she could. Just one more nightmare to add to the pile.

Still, Romilla thought as they limped on towards Fountains Square, she was more glad than ever that she had given Hendrick Sigmar’s mercy when she could. The thought of her old comrade brought sorrow, and she quickened her step, praying fervently that they might find their remaining friends still alive somewhere ahead.

The square was a blackened pit. Every building around its edge was blasted flat, and scorched corpses lay strewn about like fallen leaves. The devastation caused by the explosion was so absolute, so shocking, that it took Romilla and Eleanora long minutes to grasp the scale of what they had wrought.

Silent and full of dread, they searched for their friends all the same. Minutes became hours and the stars wheeled above them as, eyes grainy with exhaustion and hearts leaden with dismay, they sifted through the charnel horror of the square. Eleanora’s limp became more pronounced and she stumbled more than once, but she did not complain.