With his chest cavity open, all had appeared as expected at first glance. Blood blackened by the Plague, organs failed from the infection. That was when Atta saw it. The blossom sprouting from his lungs. Not a phantom or a trick of the lamplight. Not even a seedling-looking thing one could pass off as an abnormal growth of some sort. No, it was a macabre bloom of foreign flora that had taken root in the man’s lung, and flowered.
