Chapter 12

           Stillhalfasleep,JainaawokeandreachedoutahandforArthas.Hewasnotthere.Blinking,shesatup.Hewasalreadyawakeanddressed,cookingsomesortofhotcerealforthem.Hesmiledwhenhesawher,butitdidn’treachhiseyes.Jainatentativelyreturnedthesmileandreachedforherrobe,slippingitonandcombingherhairwithherfingers.

           "There’ssomethingIlearned,"Arthassaidwithoutpreamble."Lastnight—Ididn’twanttomentionit.Butyouneedtoknow."HisvoicewasflatandJainafeltsomethinginsideherquail.Atleasthewasn’tscreaming,likehehadbeenyesterday—butsomehowthiswasworse.Heladledupabowlofsteaminggrainsandbroughtitovertoher.Shespooneditautomaticallyintohermouthashecontinuedtospeak.

           "Thisplague—theundead—"Hetookadeepbreath."Weknewthatthegrainwasplagued.Weknewthatitkilledpeople.Butit’sworsethanthat,Jaina.Itdoesn’tjustkillthem."

           Thewordsseemedtocatchinhisthroat.Jainasatthereforamoment,asunderstandingdawned.Shethoughtshe’dthrowupthegrainsshe’djusteaten.Herbreathseemedtocomewithdifficulty.

           "It...turnsthem,somehow.Itmakesthemintotheundead...doesn’tit?"PleasetellmeI’mwrong,Arthas.

           Hedidn’t.Insteadhenoddedhisgoldenhead."That’swhythereweresomanyofthemsoquickly.ThegrainreachedHearthglenashorttimeago—longenoughtobemilledintoflourandbakedintobread.