Nakashima Wakana hasn't said a word since they come here.

The headstone is pale grey, covered with names of the departed with dates of birth and death right below the names, and the last loving words for the departed.

Ari stares at the headstone of the grave. There's not one grave. She reads the names one by one in her mind: Nakashima Wataru, Nakashima Wakana, Nakashima, Sayuri, Nakashima Nachiko. 

Except for Nakashima Nachiko, others have died on the same day. 

It seems like the girl's entire family is buried here. Ari nudges her. "Are you okay?"

"My sister and father also died." Wakana bursts into tears. "I don't understand."

She doesn't know what to say. Members of the Nakashima family died before she went to Iravan. It's already been years. After she came back, there was that fake god. It means Nakashima Wakana was dead at that time. "If you don't mind, how did they die?"

"I don't know." Wakana bends down on her knees and places her hand on her father's grave. Before she died, she couldn't meet her father. Even now, she can't accept that her sibling and her father are dead. If she hadn't come here, she would have never known. She sniffles, "It's my fault. They must have been too shocked after they heard about my death."

Ari creases her brows a little. "How old are your father and sister?"

"My sister was my age." Wakana's voice breaks. "My father was… fifty-six-year-old."

They aren't too old. Ari glances at the woman sobbing before her. "Do you truly think that shock could have killed them?"

She needs to get home. At the moment, she's too weak to even walk on her own. Ari looks up at the sky, wondering if her daughter, Misaki, is okay. "If my daughter is dead, I would be shocked. But I would try my best to find out how she died, Wakana. And if she had died because of another living being, I would rip that person's body and soul bit by bit."

Wakana raises her head when she hears those words. That's right. Sayuri and her father were healthy. They had strong hearts. They wouldn't die because of shock. She needs to find out how they died.

"We aren't alone." Ari turns her head to her right and releases her breath slowly. Her head is noisy — desires of all the existences inside her are noisy. Her heart is crying. The wounds are not hers. 

To survive, she has paid a tremendous price. Neither her heart nor her eyes are human anymore.

The man is old. Older than anything that Ari has seen and heard. He's dressed in old grey trousers, black boots, and checkered red and white shirt faded by countless seasons. The old man's skin is dry and wrinkled. His eyes are pitch-black. There are no whites in those eyes — only silence. He's holding clothes in his left hand. 

"In the beginning, there was only silence," Ari says to the old man.

"In the end, there would be only silence." The old man gives her a toothy smile. He tosses the clothes at Wakana who is still crying for the dead. The old man takes a look at her. "Wear that, Soul Guardian. It's amusing to see someone come back from the purgatory and cry for another dead."

"You are a face of death." Ari moves to her left, shielding Wakana from death's eyes. "Where's your owner?"

"Does the goddess remember herself now?" The old man sneers at her. "A pity! You are not a mortal goddess that brings equilibrium anymore."

It's easy to break something. It's impossible to put it back the way it was before. Ari's soul has been broken — not once, twice, or thrice. She has taken births many times — not once, twice, or thrice. Her goal has always been peace — bringing back the world to equilibrium. Where Chaos disturbs the equilibrium, she helps it come back. 

However, she's carrying chaos within herself. Though she's not chaos, she's not equilibrium either. Not anymore.

"Goddess of the lost ones." The old man cocks his head and smiles. "You are still a counterpart of Chaos. You are Abyss... Well, you have always been that. The primordial gods often want to play mortal and you chose to play the role that brings balance. Now, all the things that lose their meanings will come to you for shelter. Meanwhile, you carry one of the apocalyptic horses within you. Have you recognized which one it is?" 

"Pestilence," Her eyes turn silver as she acknowledges herself with an emotionless voice. After she was reborn from the forsaken ones, she's also a goddess of forsaken ones. Pestilence is born from the forsaken ones — the foul creatures unwanted by even hell. Death can't touch her anymore because it also abhors her now. Life will shy away because she can't be a part of the mortal world. She has goals — not one or two, but thousands or millions. She doesn't know anymore. Perhaps, that's why she's not rushing to see her daughters. 

"And you are the pale horse, Death." 

What the… Wakana raises her head and gapes at Ari. An apocalyptic horse? She heard about it from reaper Martha. Did she bring out an apocalyptic horse to planet earth? 

"As you know, primordial gods often downplay themselves as chess pieces to play in the world." The old man yawns. "The primordial god of death is similar. Then again, he tries hard and that's why I am here."

Death as the apocalyptic horse has always existed. Ari shrugs. "You have always been here..." in one form or another. 

She finishes the rest in her mind.

"Faces of gods are parts of gods." Death shakes his head. "I am just doing what I need to do."

"Where are the others?" Ari questions the old man quietly. "Where are Famine and Conquest?"

"Conquest is," The old man glances at Wakana and smirks, "is already born. He's a cute kid."

Wakana doesn't understand what this creepy old man is trying to say. There's no way that an apocalyptic horse can be cute. 

"As for Famine..." The old man scratches his chin. "She is also here. I don't know where she's hiding. She's shy, you know… can't be helped. I don't know why the three of you need to make special appearances for the apocalypse. The four horses have always been around as the forces that act as the balance. The world needs darkness for the stars to shine, right?"