That's what many people say: it was better before. I think so too. Only by "before", I think of my grandfather's time. The people were wiser, more caring. Now you can't objectively tell how good it was when you were a child. Environment, may be was better, but people were vile and spoiled. I stopped saying this phrase, because for me it sounds like: "today the acid rain is not as dangerous as yesterday." I inadvertently think about what my ancestors did in such troubled times? The same as I am in, now. I think the same thing. Only the core is stronger and the soul is lighter. I didn't realize then, how important these two qualities are for a leader.

I remember taking that young lad to the terraforming building. On the street, everyone greeted us with a low bow. I felt like shit. It's a rotten business to lead your heir to certain death without telling him the whole truth.

And only now I am realizing that I could have fixed it. For what reasons was the Council of "one hundred and four" needed? Many believed it was to keep the peace in all worlds. I thought so too. For some time. I even thought that using the spheres for military purpose was a good idea. But there was one thing I noticed too late: at the moment when the authorities began to build up their military power, the power of words, kindness and honesty were lost, giving way to the fear of losing their rusted treasures. And in the foreground came "either obey or die" - a credo that brings madness into the mind of "one hundred and four", and confusion into the mind of the common people. And, despite the fact that each person had a huge power, only a few could use it. This is what the Council decided, and I approved. I thought, why do people need the ability to kill? Yes, I had no idea what the consequences of our mistakes would be.

When the Council decided to sacrifice a man, who had done so much for everyone, I was surprised at how easy we have agreed. After all, no one has ever killed before. It is not easy now, but then it seemed something unimaginable. At the end of the meeting, everyone left the hall one after the other and drank a Cup of tea. It was indeed a strange day.

The next night, the young lad and I went down to the terraforming room. It looked rich. If you kill someone, it's in the glory. It didn't make the deed any better, though. I encountered the pressure of an error, like an asteroid with a black hole. The eternal question: do you want to execute or be executed? But you can always just leave, saying, in a huff, "screw it!". And only later you will realize it.

The boy delayed his fate as best he could, asking a lot of questions, although he knew the answer to each of them perfectly well. And I played along with him, answering as broadly as possible. When the boy held out his hand and the sphere moved toward the cell, my heart sank. Consciousness was placed in a vacuum. I pulled him back. And we stood in silence. But just as I was about to tell him, I heard explosions outside. We ran out and saw the city engulfed in flames, and in the streets the people who had bowed to me an hour ago were now lying on the ground with their last breath, struggling to move towards their severed limb. Then I understood everything. Yeah. Everything.

Malum moved along the malpais, covered with endless pyroclastic deposits from a cinder cone, bordered by a chain of mountains so massive and gloomy that it seemed to have its own rough masculine character. The peaks were hidden by a thick layer of black clouds, and only one was visible and was covered with snow. From above, a few snowflakes fell on his shoulder, and then melted away. Somewhere in the distant darkness, which even the brightest star could not dispel, came the heart-wrenching neigh of a horse. But it was there, in the impenetrable darkness of an unknown magical realm, where at first glance there was nothing: no wind, no trees, no life; only a small fire burned, and the crackle of logs were heard. Sparks shot out, resembling moths from a distance, which faded out a minute after their appearance. As small and fleeting as life itself. But at that moment, they seemed to him as a ray of hope, that is worth overcoming the darkness that stands in the way.

The pitch-black abyss engulfed Malum with relentless fury, but at the same time the smallest and most insignificant sparks of fire flickered brighter and brighter, dancing around the campfire. And between the darkness, there were eyes that reflected the bright flame, like a lantern that opens the way to the world of lost souls. And only the rapid heartbeat and pulsing blood in his veins saved Malum from the shackles of the original evil, born before the light, the planets, people, before universe itself.

He went towards the campfire and saw a man in a long black robe. He was sitting on the ground with his left leg stretched out and his right leg bent at the knee, with his hand on it. His left hand rested on the hard leather-bound ledger that lay on the gray stone floor, cold and lifeless. For some strange reasons, but Malum knew the man's name - Hastur. The latter, noticing the traveler, raised his head, but instead of a face, an erased physiognomy appeared out of the darkness, resembling a melted candle. And the body in the light of the fire, did not cast any shadow. Only the eyes were truly alive. Hastur held the book out over the flames, but Malum knew that if he took it and read it, he would go mad. They were silent, for nothing had the right to disturb the silence, but there was no need, for their eyes told each other everything. And then the shadowy creature relaxed its hand, and the book fell into the fire, feeding the flames and giving new life to even more moths, which began to fly even further, resembling warriors of light, going to battle, but doomed to death, fighting with the last of their strength in the name of good. And as long as one of them is alive, the battle will not end.

***

Malum opened his eyes with difficulty and found a blindfold on them. From the dark world of dreams, he once again found himself in a dark world, the same ruthless and uncompromising, where there is only the desire to survive at any cost. There are different rules and different morals, within which a person from Earth is forced to live, he will have to adapt in order to survive, for his own sake, for the sake of his goals and dreams. And only now did Malum fully realize that there is no second chance, just as there is no court or police to protect his rights or even to create the illusion of safety. The ringing in his ears continued in the same key. His body hummed with pain, as if his legs were tied to a horse and carried for a good few kilometers. Malum wanted to get up, or better yet, run away, but he couldn't, the rope bound his body. The only thing that could be done in such a situation was to curse in his mind, and so he did.

The place where Malum lay looked like a forgotten amphitheater. The hall was pitch dark. Only a small Central part of it was illuminated by the dim light of an oil lamp, next to which was a special recess for the sphere. Heavy layers of dust and stale air made it difficult to breathe. There were balconies on the second floor of the amphitheater, that looked inwards. Strange silhouettes, hided there, silhouettes that stood out in the darkness with what looked a deeper shade of darkness. On the second floor balcony, there were strange silhouettes that even in the darkness stood out as darkness, like animated stone gargoyles on the columns of a dilapidated temple of the underworld, wistfully watching the torment of an innocent man.

His thoughts were scattered, unable to come together in a whole picture; nevertheless, it was natural. As if an ordinary person in another world has at least a ghostly chance to understand its canons, blindly relying on chance or luck - two pillars that form a certain guardian angel sitting on his shoulder, who allegedly tries to make our life better every second.

Malum struggled to pull himself together, replaying in his fragile mind all that he had seen earlier, in order to find the loophole that could lead him out of this dark tunnel. The only conclusion that suggests itself is that the sphere works through consciousness. So he tried to save himself by imagining that he was untied and his eyes could see everything – but it didn't work out. The darkness blocked any opportunity to use the sphere's power. Pelleas knew this and had thought through every detail. The surface on which Malum lay was icy and uneven. He shivered, either because the room was really cold, or because Malum was terrified. Every two seconds, droplets of water fell from the ceiling into a puddle that had already formed on the floor, as if he were lying in an abandoned sewer pipe that had leaked several decades ago and could not be restored.

Malum felt movement behind him. The trembling in his hands never stopped. The unknown man, step by step, was approaching him – his prey, his trophy. Then the cold swedge of the knife touched Malum's face, and a second later the blindfold fell from his eyes. In the light of the lamp, he immediately saw a huge number of black pipes. They descended from the ceiling, constantly intersecting with each other. Eventually, moving along the floor, they all joined in the center of the hall, creating a small recess, apparently for the sphere, similar to a Lotus flower. Malum looked at every detail and then began to understand why the city consists of only pipes of different sizes and shapes. The architecture and construction principle resembled one of the oldest solar symbols – the Circled dot. The universal symbol of the Creator-the architect of the universe, as people of antiquity believed. However, in this case, its Central part does not represent the Sun or even the Red giant, it represents the sphere that apparently gives Alaval its energy, Malum speculated. Pelleas stood behind him, crouched down, and said in his low voice in his ear:

"I'm sorry about this, but right now you need to point your sphere at the center of the room, near the recess."

"How do I do that?"

"Imagine in your head how it moves forward, but do not lower it down. Your work will be done soon. Everything will be fine. I'll monitor every step."

But something inside Malum screamed: you can't do this. Then he presented a different picture, for the last time, hit or miss. An image of an old apartment appeared in his mind, with discolored red carpets, a wooden table in the corner of the room with all the writing materials, a shelf with scientific books and dictionaries. Pictures that covered the unstuck wallpaper. But most importantly, the view from the window on a clear summer morning, when the Sun had already risen above the horizon and the rays, gently touching the morning dew on the leaves of the trees, were reflected on the ceiling of this ordinary apartment near the outskirts of Moscow, where you can wrap yourself under a blanket and hide from the whole world, at least until noon.

At the same time, the sphere hummed, freezing cold began to cover everything around it, gravity increased many times and pinned both of them to the ground so that it was impossible to step. Pelleas immediately understood what was going on. He swore. Then one of the shadows leaped toward them, defying gravity, and its left hand gripped the knife, rising above Malum's chest. At the same moment, the blade, with surgical precision, plunged into the prisoner's heart, reaching its target unhindered. The victim's scream came out with the blood, and the next gasp was accompanied by the whoosh of a punctured lung; the skin turned white. The creature's eyes reflected the life of Malum, flowing from the wound in a powerful stream. And then he was gone, teleported, but his mind had not yet sunk into the abyss of time, until the sinister scythe of death had reached its destination…

Pelleas sighed in resignation. The creature put the knife back in its sheath on the belt at its left side, and they both moved toward the oil lamp. The old man walked like a slave whose feet were chained. The head dropped down. He took the lamp, and at the same moment other shadows surrounded him, from which even the light fled in fear. Each of them was wearing a gray cape with a voluminous hood on their head and a red badge that means members of the "hundred and four". One thing about their appearance remained unchanged: male and female palms and pupils of different sizes.

Pelleas spoke first:

“Your impatience disturbed all our plans,” he turned to one of the shadows and continued. “Are you completely mad?”

“The teleportation process began; it was the only chance not to miss the opportunity.”

Pelleas sighed, half-turned, and looked at the spot where Malum had lain a moment ago. The dim light of the lamp faded, illuminating only the old man.

"Everything went wrong from the beginning.”

"From the beginning, we could have killed him and taken the sphere for ourselves.”

"And wait another three thousand years for it to activate."

"Not the worst outcome, as for me."

"You can negotiate with some people."

The shadow grabbed Pelleas by the shoulder and spun him around to face its dark countenance. He smelled a stinking smell.

"I would rather be a murderer who holds the hope of the future, the hope of avenging Rety for the suffering of my people, for all the crimes that Rod and all his retinue have committed. Pelleas, I am tired of sitting in this lifeless, bloody citadel, waiting for my own death from old age or for some creature to devour me."

"What do we do next, Pelleas?" asked the other.

"He'll be back."

"Will he?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure of that?"

"During the war, I blocked access to teleport to the Water surface planet to save Motso. This guy is from there. He has the sphere. The next time when Malum will try to return to his home, if he survives such an injury at all; he’ll automatically teleport to us because of a system failure. We'll be waiting for him.