After all the preparations for Malum's arrival on Alaval, Pelleas returned to his bridge. He drank from his cup of water and fell into a reverie. But not long after, the peace was disturbed by one of the Council, his good friend Radgiver.

"You're still sitting here. What are you trying to catch?"

"Just an old habit. They are difficult to get rid of. You know that."

"You'll forgive him."

"Radgiver," Pelleas turned her head in his direction, "I never blamed him. The war has left a serious imprint on him, and a tourniquet can't heal such a wound. I think that in his heart he hates me for saving him."

"This is the first time I've heard that you saved him."

"There's no point in discussing the past." Pelleas sighed and fell silent.

"Tell me already."

"His daughter was beheaded in front of him. He rushed to the embrasure, and here I am. I threw him in another room and killed everyone by myself. I went back and looked at this poor guy; he had tears and anger in his eyes."

"Maybe it's due to the fact that he has not avenged the death of his daughter?"

Pelleas shrugged.

"I still don't know what’s the right thing to do in this situation. I don't even want to think about it. I shouldn't live now at all."

"Is terraforming still on your mind?"

"Yes. When I sacrificed the sphere, I thought it was the end… Finally, eternal peace. But my soul connected with the planet. And until the planet dies, I won’t die. Who would have thought that everything would turn out like this."

"You did the right thing."

"If the sphere hadn't cracked, I wouldn't have done it."

"So it's for the best that it cracked."

"Don't you want to give one last fight?"

"What's the use? A military victory means nothing."

"Maybe it doesn't."

"I look at you and see that you're giving up. Do you want to retire defeated?"

"I have been defeated for five thousand years. I'm used to it."

"You lost when you decided there was nothing else to do."

"What should I do?"

"Fight to the last drop of blood."

"No one listens to me. Everything is going to hell."

"They don't listen because they see that their only leader has given up. Sitting on the bridge and trying to fish out of the fog like a madman. Remember how the old men helped you get to the sphere control center? There was no word "defeat" in their vocabulary."

"That's because they died before "defeat" happened."

"But they fought to their last breath, for what is the point of living defeated? What are you going to do, sit and grieve for the rest of your life?"

"It would suit me."

"But it's not in your nature."

"There's a truth to it."

Radgiver sat on the bridge next to the Pelleas. And took a deep breath.

"I'm sick of this view.”

"Yes. Me too."

"What did you see when you touched the sphere? What happened to Motso? Why didn't he come back?"

"Because I told him not to come back. I said I'd come back for him myself. But I didn't fulfill this promise."

Radgiver stopped. Pelleas put down his fishing rod and continued:

"I had a dream recently. All around is a dark, dense forest, where there are no rays of light; and in the depths of this backwoods lives a large predator that never stands still, it wanders between the coniferous trees, here and there. His skin is cut by needles, his body is bleeding, his former strength is leaving him. And now the beast is not so big and scary, but still doesn’t give up trying to get out. I try to turn my head in its direction and realize that I am the beast. I wander through an endless highway of mud and hummocks. It's pulling me deeper and deeper into the backwoods. I'm falling, I can't resist anymore. But all I keep thinking about is how to find a way out of this maze."

"And what happened after?"

"I woke up."

"I haven't had a dream in a long time."

"Lucky guy."

"When you touched the sphere, you should have seen what happened to Motso."

"I saw it, but I didn't see to the end."

"You should. Maybe there you will find a map that will help you get out of this maze."

"I'm scared."

"I’m scared too."

Radgiver got up, dusted his gray cloak and went about his business without saying goodbye. Pelleas sat for a long time, staring into the thick fog under the bridge. He knew that his mind was in sync with the sphere, just as he knew that all Motso's memories were now his own, and they were behind a closed door, somewhere deep in his mind. For hours he was afraid to go through that door, as a father is afraid of knowing that there he would see only the disappointment, the pain, and the death of his own child. And the story began again…

***

Malum went into the back room to change into the men's local clothing, so he would not stand out so much from the rest. Inside the room, there was almost nothing but strange pictures showing nonexistent worlds, a pallet stuffed with straw, a small wooden table with a long-extinguished oil lamp, with blackened glass inside. There was a chest in the far corner. Malum opened the lid and saw a lot of black clothing. He put on a cape that fit him and felt himself collapse from fatigue. Only there was no time to rest. He reached for the sphere, touched it, and the sphere began to reset his body, filling every cell of his body with energy. Although Malum began to feel much better after the procedure, it still did not replace a good sound sleep. He took off all his clothes and changed into new ones; he carefully put his things in the backpack that he had been carrying on his back all this time; then he thought about it:

"How do I hide this backpack from prying eyes? Can i reduce its size? Is it possible?"

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Malum looked at the chair next to him and imagined it in a smaller form. It Worked. Then he decided to try to reduce his backpack. It shrank to the size of a tennis ball.

“Now, if I find anything valuable in this world, I can restore my backpack’s size and put it inside, and then reduce its size again.”

After all the preparations, he moved down the street to the Central square, where he assumed there would be a celebration. People passing by constantly looked at him with disbelief, as if he were a leper, and Malum did not understand why. He approached a pretty girl in a white "La Malinche" huipil, and the expression on her face realized that she was at a loss.

"Good afternoon, can you tell me, at what time the celebrations will start?"

"It already started, Your..." The girl hesitated a little and, after thinking for about a second, added "Mercy."

"Can you answer one more question?"

The girl nodded. She locked her hands.

"Why is everyone looking at me like that?"

"How?"

"Like I did something to them."

"That's probably because of the color of your coat. Only distinguished guests or members of our ruler's family wear black. But everyone knows about such guests six months before they arrive, and Ismila has no family."

Malum noticed that the girl didn't look him in the eyes and was acting too distant. He continued, taking a step forward. The girl tried to retreat, but her back was against the wall of her own house.

"Do you like living under Ismila?"

"Yes, yes," the girl nodded, "of course, she is the best thing that happened to the people of this city."

"Why? What's so special about her?"

"She takes care of us. Um ... makes sure fewer crimes happen ... Um ... and the food was divided equally."

"What's wrong with you?” asked Malum, he literally smelled her fear.

"I’m all right Your ... Um ... Mercy."

"OK see you." - said Malum and waved at her. With peripheral vision, he saw the girl exhale.

As Malum moved toward the square, more people and more eyes were coming in. One man was literally staring at Malum, like a father waiting for an explanation from a guilty child. Then, without thinking, he turned and walked toward him. The man's face that a few seconds ago had been radiating a large palette of anger and disbelief, with the approach of the foreign guest, it changed drastically. His eyes widened, his gaze dropped, and his mouth, which was set in a tight, unnatural smiled, a smile that showed his black and yellow teeth.

"Is there something you don't like?" Malum asked.

"Everything is good…"

"It’s all written on your face. You are clearly unhappy with something and I, as a member of the government, would like to know what exactly."

"You are not a member of the government. They all have spheres, and you don't."

Then a black sphere flew out of Malum's pocket and froze on his outstretched palm. The stocky man, who was over two meters in height, immediately fell to the ground and began to apologize as sincerely as his abilities allowed. Malum hid the sphere, sat down and asked:

"I was called to ..." he thought a little, remembering the name of the holiday, "Irin-Ajo. Can you tell me if I'm going in the right direction?"

"It’s right! It’s right! The square is located about one verst from this place."

“Well, great,” Malum said, barely hiding a smile. He patted the man on the shoulder and walked on, and the man continued to kneel.

The sun was nearing the horizon. Sunset painted the clouds in a Golden palette. There was a sharp change in temperature. Malum no longer felt the heat; it was getting colder. People ran back and forth like ants, loading their puny, dirty, and sweaty bodies with baskets full of food. Malum noticed a small street to his right, and wondered what it was. The houses were close together, and he had to move sideways to get between the walls. Three meters ahead, around the corner, somebody threating was heard. Malum quickened his pace and when he reached the spot, he half-poked his head around the corner, trying to stay in the shadows. He saw three masked men surrounding a hunched, short, elderly man, trying to take away a piece of paper that looked like a theater ticket. He clung to it and wouldn't let go. Malum decided to take his time and watched until one of the attackers pulled out a knife and began waving it in cutting movements in front of the old man. Then Malum took a hold of himself and moved toward them, realizing that the situation was far from a joke. The bandits turned to look at him: the man in a black cloak appeared in front of them with a black sphere flying around. They immediately rushed in different directions and disappeared as if no one had ever been there.

"Thank you for saving me. My name is Pitris."

"You're welcome. My name is Malum. I think you're hurt, let me see. "

"Are you a doctor?"

"No."

"Then what's the use?"

Malum shrugged and added:

"Probably no use, but in that case you need to see a doctor. The wound will not heal by itself."

“You're not from these lands, are you?"

"I'm a guest."

"Judging by the appearance, a high-ranking guest."

“It doesn’t scare you like the others."

“Old people have nothing to fear. You don't want to cut me with a knife, do you?"

"No, I do not want that."

"Then I certainly have nothing to fear."

"Why did they attack you?"

"Because, like everyone else, they want to eat."

"Is the village short on food?"

"When did the slaves have a lot of food? Right. Never."

"Slaves?"

"Yes."

"Slaves, then…"

"I see you don't know the local customs."

"You're right. How do you get food? "

“Jarilo - a member of the Supreme government who is responsible for food, comes to Tuhinmua once a week and delivers food to Ismila, who delivers it to special people who divide this food among the residents at the special distribution centers, but not equally. Each person, depending on their position in society, is given a special ticket that says how much food they should get. If you are promoted at work or you have a child or even two, then the ticket is changed to another one. The classifications of these papers are just a fucking nightmare; but whoever you are in this city, there's barely enough food to feed the kids, and there's nothing to say about yourself. Considering the fact that every citizen of our beautiful city, starting from the age of fourteen, should have a family and a child. That's because of this attitude that there are thieves and murderers who will do anything in order to get an extra ticket. You know, the highest authority in this city is only interested in children under twenty, and thieves know this, so they attack the elderly with impunity, unless they are caught red-handed.”

"Don't you have some food at the festival?"

“Yes, and a lot!”

"So why would they rob you today?"

“Because people can never have enough.”

"What about the militia?"

"As useless as the rat meat in the soup. When Ismila created a squad of militia, their duty was to protect the local population, but in reality, they are just a bunch of slobs as everyone else, only they get more food due to their status. The only ruler of Tuhinmua, which had balls was Atraps, others do not even become pawns on the chessboard."

"Why do they only need children under twenty?"

The old man did not take his eyes off Malum for a second. Scratching his long gray beard with a bloody hand, he continued:

"This is known only to those who sit in the government. Every year they take twenty children from Tuhinmua. Legend has it that those who have passed this ceremony will become part of the indigenous population in the capital. At the Irin-Ajo holiday, they are, as it were, escorted to a better world, where everyone lives for a long time, rejoices, well, and everything like that."

"But you don't believe that?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't think you like what's going on here."

"I'm sure that our children in the capital make some local buffoons."

"Why?"

"Because no child has ever come back in my long life and said that everything is fine there. The holiday, by the way, takes place every year. And tales of the good life continue to be drummed, by Perun and other tyrants like him, into the heads of locals. To believe a tyranny that says it works for the common people is to be either an idiot or a slave. Actually, everyone here is like that. My grandfather liked to tell stories, he said that the people of this city is not from this world at all, it was brought here many thousands of years ago before the Panic war. At the beginning it was called the "City of slaves", and then renamed to Tuhinmua. It sounds better this way, but nothing has really changed."

With every word Pitris spoke, Malum wondered at his awareness. However, the old man's eyes put him in a kind of unconscious fear that he could not explain. As if those eyes didn't belong to a person. But Malum was captivated by the open form of communication, and with each word he trusted Pitris more, although he did not want to admit it to himself.

"Ismila told me that it is forbidden to name the rulers."

"I can."

"Are you special?"

"Each Irin-Ajo, when Perun comes for twenty children, I act as a translator, because the Supreme authority and the local population speak different dialects. So yes, in some ways I'm special."

"How do you know the language of the Supreme authority?"

"What, what?"

"How do you know both dialects?"

"That, my father taught me, and his father taught him. I mean, my grandfather. He was a smart guy."

Malum watched as the blood soaked into the old man's clothing, and once again suggested that he goes to the doctor. But Pitris refused, explaining that there are no doctors in Tuhinmua, except for the local enthusiasts who tries to help the dying with all sorts of herbs, rituals and prayers. And it works about fifty-fifty. At the end of the conversation, Pitris and Malum agreed to meet directly at the festival, and Malum returned to the main street.

The old man slowly moved, sideways, went into the depths of the local courtyards. He knew that no one ever came to these places because of the very narrow passages. He stopped. His hand lit up with a white light, there was a crackling sound of ice, and the wound began to heal. A minute later, there was movement between the houses. It was patrolled by a local militia who considered this area one of the most dangerous. The militiaman pushed his way between the houses to the Pitris and asked if everything was all right, to which the old man, with a smile on his face, said that everything was fine except that he seemed to be lost in this maze, and the militia helped him out to the main street. After they said their goodbyes, the old man touched the wound and realized that it was no longer there. The body was recovered.