Three people wanted a man dead.
One hundred and sixty people died in the fireball above Mendoza. A lawyer lost his wife and daughter. A boy lost his father and, shortly after, his mother. A girl lost her entire family and, in the years that followed, almost everything else.
They survived. That was the problem. Survival without justice is not survival. It is a different kind of dying, slower and more thorough, and it takes everything you have just to keep moving through it.
Twenty-one years later, the three people are still breathing. Still prosperous. Still certain that what they caused is buried beyond anyone's reach.
They are wrong.
Wither, Blister, Burn and Peel is a tragedy in the oldest sense - not a story about evil being punished, but about the cost of the reckoning to those who pursue it. About grief that hardens into purpose, and what purpose of that kind destroys on its way to being fulfilled.