ponderatio

How can you kill the one who created us? - that was the only question in my mind.

Such a great being was able to dissolve into little sparks of flesh and soul! Reflecting on what had happened, my thoughts abruptly snapped:

   - Impossible, this is some kind of mistake! - Shouted one of the parishioners. Turning sharply toward him, the old man scowled in Latin.

Sensing the fear from the third worlders, the preacher softened a little, relaxing his wrinkled face. Looking at each of us, he said only:

   - "You smell," he said, taking a demonstrative breath, "the very sky is restless, as if something supernatural than us has descended into our worlds. It's the end. - Communicating his premonition, he frantically raised his left hand on the altar, that many inexperienced creatures moved away on different sides, a sharp sound flew past the crowd, allowing the sight of a venusian spear in flabby hands.

I suspected that he had transferred an identical copy to the first world, but using it against an angel was unacceptable. As I considered the old man's next move, it hit me now. It's true, I'm not at peace, though it sounds strange coming from a witch's mind. The air as if suffocating from an unknown suffocation, as if the disease has reached such a peak that it is impossible to breathe. As I pondered the earth, air, and water groaning from the fallen angel, I noticed through the small window overlooking the empty backyard another dull rumble. Catching my friend's gaze, we nodded automatically. Stepping past the old man, out into the street, approaching the weakened angel, he tried feebly to see the lower layer. Getting on all fours, his wings trembled. Once a former counselor, he couldn't hold his fear at the dregs of the world. Memories were eating away at the angel, so he couldn't even hear us speak. Thinking of helping another fallen man, I asked Nebiros to stay with him when he could speak. Walking around the church, sensing the rain was coming, I squinted into the thick darkness, only the white wings visible when the wind blew the treetops up exposing the full moon. Cautiously approaching the immortal, I noticed a surprisingly beautiful woman. Her blonde hair was down to the ground.

Her body trembled feverishly, sometimes sagging unnaturally, as if she were struggling with her ever-young body. Stopping beside her, not waiting for the wind to deign to push back the peak, letting the moon illuminate, I half-whispered incantations.

   Naturally, after the morning's training, I didn't want to accidentally scorch her and her wings. They're so beautiful, and I wish I had them... But I had no regrets, because I had to make sure she was in one piece and could tell me what had happened. Feeling the tingles in my right hand, I had to endure as the fire began to manifest. Witches, they're almost masterful at inflicting horrors on humans, cursing princesses, charming centaurs, but elemental magic is too difficult. Because of the "human" genome, we can actually feel our body hairs burn when we use fire, how water can kill us ourselves if we're not emotionally prepared. It's always scary, like the first time. Smelling the burning odor, feeling the sparks scorching the hairs on my arms, I tried to concentrate as I continued to whisper the spell. My hands were shaking as I realized that my skin would take a long time to regenerate from the fire. Our regeneration is faster than humans, but slower than demons and angels. As I continued to whisper, "Lord of Fire, give me your will, strength, and anger. Than I can burn it all to the ground." My gaze shifted to the wave fire, taking in more and more territory as it moved to my palm, but it still managed to illuminate the sagging silhouette of the celestial guest. Slowly lowering one knee to the grass, trying as I might to avoid hitting the woman, I saw only her slightly open forehead. The redness that was visible was not blood. Yes, and her regeneration would have already repaired the injuries from the falls. After hesitating a bit, clumsily reaching out with my free hand to her forehead, I was called out.

   - Stay away from her! - In a menacingly bestial voice, an old man shouted with all his might. Moving swiftly, he appeared behind her. - And away for eternity, we will seal you again, just as the great Shepfa said. - Speaking the name of the Supreme Unity for the first time, he stabbed her in the back. Dumbfounded watching this ignorant mistake, I was speechless. After all, the old man would not live now, he would be taken away just like my mother. Brutally thrusting in a short, sacred spear, he turned it so that the angel began to disintegrate into ashes. Staring through all the horror, I knew they were coming. The other immortals, until his hoarse voice broke into my panic," It's contagious.  Have you forgotten that angels can't fall from the sky unless it's the Day of Judgment?" he reminded me threateningly of the end of the world according to human lore, and frantically pulled his hand away from his spear, only now we both saw a small rat on the hilt of the weapon, "get out, now! - By shouting this, the old man was able to instantly put out the fire in my hands.

   Reading the fear in his voice, I haphazardly, even fearfully stood up, running wordlessly into the churchyard. As I listened to the incessant screams of every creature, someone hit me. It seemed to be a terrified werewolf, knocking everyone else down and running into the forest, howling in pain. Some kind of contagion was burning their bodies, making them writhing in agony. Trying to get up as fast as he could, leaning on his burned arm, clenching his jaw, foolishly slowing himself down. It was impossible to finally realize that hell had come to us when we weren't ready. It was as if human fear had gripped everyone who wasn't human. They experienced despair, agony, and bestial fear. Climbing up, clawing the grass from my burned flesh, I wanted to run as Nebirosa found me, no less testing what was given to humans, and grabbed me by the elbows. Looking into his eyes yellow with fear, the demon spoke quickly, instantly transporting us inside. It wasn't calm there either, running my eyes over my former friends, I saw them freeze dead, falling to the floor, others grabbing their comrades like puppets passing cholera through in the blink of an eye. A second before one of them noticed us, a friend rushed into the old man's bedroom. Slamming the door shut, holding it with his back, he glanced remorsefully at me.

   - Get in the closet," despite his glare, his voice was cold. - The dwarf will only be able to carry one," the lump in my throat didn't take long to get to me, clasping my hands tightly together, "I'll be able to fly away," throwing such a deceptive promise the mestizo smiled weakly, "Come on Amy, don't you believe me?

Foolishly asking the question, his tail automatically rose, freeing itself from under his clothes. Trying to maintain the demeanor of a fool, he sighed bashfully, glancing at the separately living part of his body.

That's what he always said, but his ponytail gave him away, since we'd first met. Echoing his playfully cowardly altruism, I nodded understandingly, taking a step back toward the closet. It was incredibly painful to watch him try to ease my conscience. Nodding at every word he said, his hand fumbling for the closet door with a pained hand, pulling it ajar, he continued to wag his devilish tail. Back and forth to get me to safety.

   - Zombies are not your friends. - At this point, he reminded her that witches aren't friends with zombies, even if they're alive. - We'll definitely meet up.

The intimate intonation suggested he could get away with it, or maybe he was lying to the last one. Gazing at him one last time, I turned around abruptly, heading for the closet. As always, darkness awaited me. Soon I felt a rough dwarf pen on my hand. It happens again, again I go into the closet where I am teleported somewhere. Again I run away. Closing my eyes, staying that way until the cold wind blows against my face. Squinting, letting a tear roll down to my cheekbone, I suddenly feel a presence. Usually dwarves disappear at once if they're paid a lot. But here it felt like someone strong was sitting behind me.

Listening to the crackling fire, I slowly opened my eyes. Turning my head back, I spotted the man. His black eyes pierced through my soul, incomprehensible fear knocked all the air out of my lungs. Continuing to stare into the black abyss, he lurched and his wings fluttered after him. Was it a demon, or was it an angel? Unbeknownst to me, the aura was crushing me mentally. Like a bug under his boots, he took a leisurely step in my direction, the second I deliberately turned my body, taking an awkward step back. Automatically reciting protection spells, realizing it would do little to help me. He'd kill me without even bothering, and I didn't even have wings to fly away from this stranger. Tears, either from fear of being killed or from losing my home and family, began to fall to the ground. My legs shook from his power, but he silently continued to approach. As if coming close would be enough to snap my neck.

I was not aware that such power could be in the fourth world. Or that this was the one who defied the creator himself. The spawn of the first mestizo, and a mistake of nature just like us? Could this man have changed the world? I'd heard about it by ear, from salesmen coming to the old man's house. But I thought it was just another legend to scare scum like us. I mean, who would break the rules of the universe?

Perhaps because of my fearful brown eyes, and wet face, the mestizo stopped a little at arm's length. My voice trembled when I remembered his real name:

   - Mal...- in a hoarse voice half-whispering a legend that had existed for over three hundred thousand years, - Bonte...- voicing his full name, the immortal clenched his jaw. Apparently he didn't like the latest pronunciation. Having suffered so many defeats in one evening, it seemed to me that the end was near, but the man stepped to the side, bending over tree limbs. Ignoring my assumption, he turned toward the fire, pausing slightly. His powerful back could protect anyone, but also destroy. His height suggested his status and strength, and his face expressed no emotion, letting me know that he would see it through to the end. It was as if balance and at the same time annihilation struggled within him. This man is terrifying, yet beautiful at the same time. As E.W.'s creatures he is majestic, handsome, and dangerous. No need to push his luck unnecessarily, it's time to run while he can.

   Turning back sharply, turning to face the predator, I only now noticed the cliff. Peering into the night canvas of white dots, I noticed the stump of an island flying above us. Realizing I was in the fourth world, I wanted to lose myself. To break the thread of understanding and realization that I had entered the lair of those who judged the freaks of life, the lair of those to whom the end had come. Trying to summon the last of my strength, I had to ask:

- Did the four horses arrive in our world?

The question was rambling, rather incomprehensible. But still, he raised his voice in surprise.

   - The first.

The first? The first horse with a rider on it?! Has our world really come to an end?

   Even so, I can't teleport or fly off this island. And asking someone who's practically feared and respected by everyone is scary. It would be easier for him to throw me off the island and smash me into another island. And end just the beginning of my suffering. As if reading my thoughts, Malbonté hummed. Loud enough for me to hear. On shaky legs, I looked at him over my shoulder, but the man turned half sideways. His eyebrows raised as he stared at me. Stewing a little before the abyss of eyes, awkwardly shifting my gaze to the fire, I jerked. My feet unknowingly walked past the winged man, heading for a warm place. Stepping towards the fire, I felt my hand begin to pinch. Squinting my eyes as I continued to approach realizing I wouldn't be able to control the fire due to fear. Listening to my boots, turning around to face the man.

   - Stay back. - Warning him, Malbonté calmly continued, extending a flaming hand as a defense. The fire instantly engulfed the arm up to the elbow, causing unbearable pain to the unhealed flesh. Squeezing my eyes shut, gritting my teeth, I felt nothing. It was as if someone had just put out the candle with two fingers.

- Your fire won't even hurt me. - Saying it calmly, the dark-haired man frowned. - Coming to a place, disturbing the peace," he monotonously said it and looked at the fire with some sadness. Turning to follow his gaze, I noticed that my magic had taken away the fire that was warming him. More accurately not his body, but rather his soul. He didn't look like a threat to the world now, only because a pall of sadness had settled on his cold face. What is it that bothers him so much, if fire means anything more? It's like he's freezing every second of the day. As if he doesn't know what warmth is, rather his mother was sent to Earth like mine was sent to the afterlife where there is no rebirth and one freezing cold. Saddened by the fact that two broken souls have met, I began to read the spell again, which brings me pain. Willing to let go of my outstretched hand, I trembled because of my intercepted arm. His hand around my burned wrist was not as cold as his gaze. Immortals regulate temperature and that's a fact, but it felt like an anesthetic. Sighing in relief from the extinguished pain, my tears began running down my face haphazardly once more. Dropping to the ground, I couldn't understand why they had reappeared. Like snow on my head, the sadness reached such a peak that I had to reveal my naked nature to the monster that everyone, dreaded.

Pressing my lips together, boldly looking into his eyes, I wanted to throw myself into his arms. Just because the pain was unbearable. And it wasn't the burns anymore. It was like a thousand needles were piercing my heart, continuing to torture it. He conveyed his pain with a single touch, and it wasn't even visions.

   - Why did everyone hate you? - Sincerely asking, Malbonte froze. Looking into the depths of his eyes, it seemed to me as if in them he was showing what he could convey with his hand.

Witches are not very empathic beings, but they also affect the balance of emotions and can take away negative ones if any other creature wishes. Fairies, on the contrary, give positive or feel positive emotions. Emilia Mirele Fry possessed partially both powers. But it was too much for her to handle. As a human being, she took everything to heart. It was Malbonte who reminded her of her curse. Would she be able to be close to this monster? A fact known to no one. While the first rider sows the contagion, two broken beings have met, one unsure of how to proceed and the other already made up his mind.

Two opposites of the same essence, what will happen next?

That's what they thought virtually at the same time, wondering in their minds....

- I'm sorry... - trying to apologize for the unjustified tears, the girl carelessly wiped them away with her free hand, realizing that he wouldn't let go of her hand. Holding back in the rush of her emotions, the witch threw herself against his chest. Pressing down feeling heartbeats like mortals, Amy was not repulsed. Rather carelessly distanced a millimeter from Malbonte's chest. Not realizing why such a rush of feelings had happened, the one was roughly hooked by the chin. Raising his gaze to his, the man calmly watched her faded eyes. Realizing the fact that someone was able to see the innermost part of her, he calmly continued to rustle his thumb over her chin, gazing into the witch's face.