She screamed in pain. But she quickly realized that no one would hear her. She tried to pull away from the rope that bound her body, but it was in vain. Blood trickled from her mouth. Her breathing quickened. She saw the implacable malice in his eyes, the kind of malice that could not be defeated with a simple weapon and could only be put up with; he sat across from her, waiting for something, watching the spirit come out of her. She didn't dare start a conversation for a long time, but she didn't want to die like this. If she was going to go to the afterworld, she needed to at least say something, but he was ahead of her:

"Well... we met under different circumstances. It just so happens that you're out of luck.”

"Now I know who you really are.”

But the man only smiled.

“What awaits me after death?”

“I don't think you want to know the answer.”

“Speak.”

"Don't expect anything. After death, your body will go limp, you will lose a couple of grams, and your story will end there. There will be no heaven or hell, only an emptiness that you can't even know, because your mind will die with you in this room.” He paused for a moment, then smiled coldly and said, "I thought the bounty hunters were better informed about this."

Pitris saw the internal struggle between pride and lust for life in the mind of a dying girl. The look in her eyes changed.

“Save me. I will serve you.”

Pitris smiled again, but said nothing.

"Or get it over with."

He stretched out on the bed, rolled over on his right side, and propped his head on his hand. He watched her, watched the mistakes she regretted kill her faster than the wound. He saw how much she wanted to fix them. But all this he had observed one too many times.

"Explain one thing to me: Why did you kill innocent people who fled from Alaval?”

"I can’t get it. What are you talking about?"

Then Pitris got up from the bed and came very close to her, and she felt his icy breath. He didn't move a muscle in his face, then began to speak, pausing slightly between words:

"Let's make a deal, every time I see you making a fool of yourself, I'm going to pull one of your teeth out with my hands. But don't worry, death won't come sooner because of this, it will come when I want it to. Do you understand?”

The girl swallowed and nodded. She felt her body shiver.

"I'm all ears.”

"We were just alchemists, on a planet that no one cared about. We were constantly harassed by local inquisitors because of our predisposition to magic.” She coughed. “We had no home, no family. We chose our own destiny. But then one of us saw an announcement with a description of the refugees from Alaval and a reward for their head and the call "Alaval delenda est". This was our only chance to curry favor with the Supreme ruler, and we did, eventually becoming his personal guards and gaining access to everything we wanted. We were no longer hiding from anyone. Our runes and magic have reached perfection, we have learned the very essence of matter and with the help of spheres and runes the rulers of this planet can extend their life an infinite number of times.”

“So you think you did the right thing?”

“Yes.”

“Then what is the use of all these, since everything led to such an end?”

“Go to hell!”

The girl coughed again. Spat out a blood clot.

“I thought you'd like to confess before you die.”

She said nothing. Her body was shaking, whether from chills or the nearness of death. But her life was in his hand, and they both knew it. In her eyes, the entire room was painted a cold blue, as if she were not in a Palace, but in a burial chamber somewhere in the very North of the planet.

"The people you killed… They didn't come to your planet because of a good life. They were fleeing the war that Rod had started. All they wanted was a quiet and peaceful life. Did you understand that?”

“I did understand.”

“This is a fucking lie!”

Then, for the first time, she heard the voice of the devil - the primordial essence of darkness and the abyss. She realized that he could see right through her, and it was very creepy. She turned her head away and whimpered. He continued:

"While you're breathing, I'll explain one simple thing. There are people who run for power in order to realize their own capabilities. They don’t care about others, but at the expense of the resources of these others, they achieve something in life. Just like you. You killed unarmed elders, children, women, you didn't care what their fate was, what life they lived and what pain they carried. You cut off their heads and took them where you were told to. And there are those who, through sweat and blood, without sparing themselves, work for the benefit of others, try to help them, save them or direct them. They risk their lives every day just like you, but the only difference is that they die with a smile on their face and in the rays of glory, leaving behind a story that will live in the hearts of others and be passed down from generation to generation. Everyone has their own destiny and legacy, with the only difference that the first ones end up like you. They rot and bleed, and no one will remember anything about them after they die. I don't think anyone will even notice you're gone. Well, some bounty hunter disappeared, so what? So, what is the meaning of your whole life?”

"You're a killer just like me!" she screamed. “What moral right do you have to lecture me?"

"You're wrong. There is a difference between killing the innocent and killing the guilty. But I don't kill anyone for no reason. If I wanted to kill you, I would have killed you the second you opened your rotten mouth. We both know that. But I'm giving you a chance to face death and tell your story exactly as it really was. So that at least somewhere it is preserved. So that your miserable life won't be wasted.”

"Piece of shit," she said with a wicked smile. "So you're doing me a favor?"

He didn't answer. He glared at her, didn't look away, watched as her will was fading.

“Have you ever wondered how your life will end?”

"Damn you!”

He looked at the clock on the wall. 16:37. Then he looked at the dead fireplace, where the red coals were burning faintly. Then he looked at her again, saying nothing.

"You want to kill my entire kind?"

“No. They will die a different death, for evil must fall, for the edification of another, evil must exist, so that the light shines even brighter. You could have died differently, too, but you decided to draw your sword to kill the old man. I couldn't let you get away with this.”

She didn't answer. In her mind, life flew by again and only at this moment, she realized how insignificant everything was. She recalled the faces of her family and friends, her first love, disappointment, friends, achievements in magic and first victories. But then the bodies of her victims started popping up in her head. She wanted to admit to herself that she had left only death behind, but she didn't, because she didn't think that was the case. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She felt very sleepy.

"Let me live… I will change!” She whined miserably, spitting blood again. She tried to shout to the creature wrapped in the darkness of hellish horrors and the screams of all those who have already been enslaved, but to no avail. She was gripped by the shroud of fear in which she had lived for most of her life, choosing this path voluntarily, and now forced to count the last minutes of her life in it.

“The light of the righteous shines brightly, but the lamp of the wicked is extinguished, am I right?” She asked in a low voice, almost in a whisper.

There was a grave silence. Pitris's gaze pressed on the girl, but she was no longer able to answer him. As time went on. There was already a pool of blood on the floor. Her skin turned white. However, the hope that she would get a second chance did not allow her to breathe her last. I'm not such bad of a person, she thought.

Pitris approached her. Drew his sword. She gave him a last piteous look. And he, without any emotion, pointed the blade at her heart and pierced the flesh. Her eyes were frozen in horror, and her body went limp. He pulled out his sword and dropped it on the floor. He put his hand on her forehead and swallowed her soul, inhaled the smell of death that he had inhaled many times before, and got so used to it that he didn't even pay any attention to it, because it became part of him, as threads or buttons are part of clothes.

***

Malum was sitting in his room. The fireplace was lit up. Red fluffy carpets covered the floor. He looked at the time: 17: 00. Irin-Ajo is about to start. He tried to get some sleep, but he couldn't. Excitement enveloped his whole body, it was impossible to fully relax and rest. His stomach churned. He went to the far corner of the room, stood for a moment, and looked at the painting of Strota. He turned and headed for the door. He looked for the peephole. Nothing. It was foolish to hope so. As time went on. The ticking of a wristwatch could be heard in the deep silence. He sat down on the bed and thought about Kulungan.

Half an hour later, rapid footsteps were heard in the corridor. Someone was moving from side to side. Malum went to the door and put his ear to it. He couldn’t hear any conversations. A few minutes later, there was a clatter of doors opening and closing. Keys jangled. The footsteps were getting closer. He heard the keys turn in the lock, and the familiar image of the guide appeared before him, who informed him dryly:

"Irin-Ajo is rescheduled for tomorrow morning.

"Where's Pitris?" Malum asked. But at the same time, the door closed on him.

Strange attitude, he thought, and lay down on the bed; he heard a heavy rain falling outside. He looked out of the window and saw the boundless darkness driving out the light again, hiding the glow of small stars under the black clouds. Cold raindrops beat against the windows and windowsill. In that dark immobility, time stood still, the moment seemed an eternity, as if nothing else would begin and nothing else would end. The world went into oblivion, but only for a few hours, until Malum's eyes closed; and then something completely inexplicable sent him to a world of dreams and tranquility, where he was in the form of a tinker picking up the broken and dented armor of fallen soldiers on the ash-covered fields. The vultures circled around him, black as obsidian, waiting for them to be alone with their prey. He paid no attention to the half-rotted but still alive wounded soldiers who no longer tried to cry out for help, because their hope had left them and they finally saw the world as it really was; those soldiers who just recently fought for their ideals, already accepted their dark perishable fate. But it wasn't his business, and it wasn't his war; he was just a witless watchman, who wanders the other side and thinks that he sees everything and everyone for the first and last time, not noticing how he himself becomes a scavenger, devouring the eyes of defenseless people. And then Malum woke up.

***

In the dead of the night of the same day, Ismila regained consciousness. All around was darkness. She could not see anything. She felt like hundreds of sharp spikes poking into her back, arms and legs, and as the body was constrained with a rope. However, there were no sharp spikes on the chair, and there were small pieces of wood that were more like coals. Heavy footsteps were heard. The rope on her arms and body began to tighten, and she felt the sharp spikes slightly pierce her body. She screamed, and immediately fell silent. She couldn't even see her feet in the dark. But someone kept walking around her without saying anything. Then there was silence, in which she could only hear her own heavy breathing.

When the torch was lit, Ismila saw an old man moving around in the corridor, shuffling on the floor and leaning on a cane. Hunched and crushed by the twists of fate, like an old exile moving through the vast wasteland of the sinful earth – a maze with no entrance or exit-turned into a harbinger of eternity, tired of his service, but unable to leave it, for he is cursed with immortality. He had a black patch over his eyes and a white beard that reached to his waist. The clothing was poorer than that of a simple pilgrim carrying the word of God through cities littered with human vices. His gait was somewhat reminiscent of the gait of a hopeless diamond merchant of ancient legends at the end of his journey. Ismila was well acquainted with this story, she knew about this merchant who sold stones to the blind, and then was hanged on a tree, but did not die, because then everything would be too simple. He hung there for a whole year, being a wonderful treat for the birds, until the branches pierced his chest and a mandrake grew from his fallen heart on the ground. Then the ropes loosened, and he was able to go wherever he pleased, but remained standing still for several decades, for in the darkness he lost himself and until the end of his life he did not find oneself, continuing to walk between the cities until the curse of the blind was gone and his purified soul did not go to the World of Light.

From the darkness, next to the old man's head, a black sphere flew out and then Ismila realized that Rod was standing in front of her - the supreme ruler of Rety. The question immediately popped into her mind: why is he so small and weak? After all, everyone she had seen before was under three meters tall. Something's wrong.

Rod came within arm's length of her, even more hunched, and leaned both hands on the wooden cane.

“Why did you betray me?” In a hoarse and slow voice, as if every word was a burden, said the old man.

Ismila lowered her head and asked for forgiveness.

“Warm her up a little?” Asked a voice behind her.

“No need to waste time on this.”

The sphere flew up to the girl and touched her hand. A minute later, it came back and he began to read the information he received. He stood for a long time.

"You know a lot, girl. I didn't think your entire family kept diaries. But don't worry, we'll take care of them. But I can't imagine how it turned out that Pitris left Strota at five o'clock this morning, and four hours later He was already dead in Tuhinmua. I doubt it's possible to return so quickly.”

She nodded.

"But you don't know that, do you?"

"That's right, Lord.”

“Well. I'm sorry to interrupt my progeny. But you'll have to stay here. You will be fed, don't worry about it. However, in about a year, you will bleed out and die, while I think about who to put in your place.”

"Please," she said, "give me a chance to fix this. I'll find Malum… I know what he looks like!”

Rod turned and walked away slowly, still not answering her. Then the light in her room went out and the door closed. She started crying.