Egon placed Homer in Ofir's arms and told Guillotine to go with him. On the opposite street, several more shots of gun tractors were heard, and the evening dark sky lit up with yellow fire for a moment, eclipsing even the brightest stars and moons.

Ofir watched his friends leave, and then looked at Homer, who had stopped shaking. He took one small breath, accompanied by wheezing, every ten seconds. Seemingly, the poison has reached the lungs.

"Come on, bro. You are strong, stronger than all of us. Don't leave me. I beg. This is not the fate that awaits you."

Ofir did not take his eyes off his friend, checked his breathing and held him in his arms, when suddenly he heard two shots from a crossbow, looked forward with horror and saw how Egon and Guillotine dealt with the revolutionaries. Only it didn't give him any relief. Homer’s wheezing became heavier and more terrible.

Egon and Guillotine took the bodies of the enemies and dragged them along, leaving a deep strip in the mud similar to the tracks usually left by wandering merchants who decided to save on transportation and dragged all their goods in a bag on the ground and threw them into the apartment of the dead doctor and closed the door. Egon saw Homer and screamed. Everyone was looking at him. Hope was drowned in the blood of the revolution and human animality. In their hearts, everyone refused to believe that Homer would die, but no one knew what to do.

A white greyhound ran past them, stopped beside and barked. Behind them, a prophet appeared, whom everyone often saw on the streets, preaching anti-government slogans. Egon looked at him with his eyes, which spoke of one thing – I am ready to do anything to save my friend. And the prophet noticed this, he came up without saying a word, examined Homer's body, eyes, put his ear to his chest, then took off the bandage and saw the seal of death that remains after receiving a non-fatal wound from the metovis of the element of darkness.

The prophet looked at them and said that the matter was grave and that their friend was at the limit.

"Take him and follow me. Quickly!"

The prophet waved his hand at them and ran towards another dark alley. They took Homer, no one said a word, and followed him. A greyhound was circling around them, not stopping barking for a split second. Egon caught the eye of a large chapel a few kilometers ahead, which suddenly shattered into pieces. The explosion was so strong that all three of them were almost knocked down, but they held on.

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After a few minutes, they stood in place and waited for the prophet to cope with the idiotically stubborn door that did not open in any way. A minute later, with a creak and a roar, it still succumbed, and everyone went in. The dog ran inside first.

"Careful, there are two steps here," the prophet said.

The apartment was a cramped basement nook. Like it or not, but you will never pay attention to such a place in your life, you will pass by it, most likely, but you will not notice it. At first glance, the room was no more than fifteen square meters, and even then, it was divided into two rooms. A small wooden-framed window at the top of the wall let in the light of a lantern and a draft. A poorly furnished apartment, with rotten chairs, which was scary to sit on, and a table standing on three legs with the fourth one missing. Everything was weird. A great place for suicide, Guillotine thought, but did not say it out loud. The only thing that looked more or less acceptable was the bed. They walked past it into the back room, where there was even less furniture: a bed, a nightstand and a candle on it.

"Put him down. Yeah. Good."

The prophet made sure that Homer was still breathing and ordered the others to go out the door and not enter.

"What's your name?" Egon asked.

"Questions after. Come on! Come on! Leave me alone."

They came out. Ofir felt the wood dust fill his nose, and sneezed. The sideboard was gnawed on by rats or mice, somewhere in the corner Guillotine saw a black mold, and after a few minutes everyone got used to the smell of rotten wood and stopped noticing it and frowned.

"How can he live here?" Ofir asked.

"Not everyone has several chests full of platinum coins."

"Is there somewhere you can take a piss?"

"Judging by the smell, either in the corner or on the street, right in front of the door."

"I’d better wait for a little."

On the wall hung a blackened picture of a girl in her room. She was holding in her hands, right above the wooden table, on which the pearls were clearly visible, slightly covered with a silk veil, an empty scale. She was dressed in a blue velvet cape and a dark green dress. Pregnant. The light in the room was dim, muted. There was a picture hanging on the wall behind the girl, but it was too difficult to see it, except that strange glowing figure at the very top of it had not lost its colors. Another picture in the picture, located above the table, could not be seen. And in the far-left corner, the only window, was covered with orange curtains.

For the first time, all three of them sighed calmly. Ofir lay down on the bed, Guillotine and Egon sat down next to each other, on the edge. The springs on the mattress creaked, and a couple of them poked out with a characteristic sound. Everyone waited…