The sun began to come out from behind the horizon. On the streets of Agernox, the chaos that was happening everywhere has gone into oblivion. It is like it never came. The dark sky was brightening. The stars dimmed and disappeared. The urban serenity has been reborn in its incomprehensible and invisible peace. Homer woke up and struggled to his feet. His body did not obey well; his legs did not seem to be his own at all. The first one he saw was a greyhound, it barked and everyone ran to its voice.

No one drank tea, nor did have breakfast, because the prophet, as Egon accurately noted, feeds on the Holy Spirit or worms. They said goodbye to Marcellinus, thanked him again and bowed. They went out into the street and headed towards the cemetery. The first snow was falling, clearing the city of all the sins of the night and covering the shallow pits and roofs of houses. There was almost no light in the windows of the houses, and all the lanterns along the way stood like hunched guards after a long watch.

On the road, there were the carcasses of burned-out stagecoaches, steam trams and even motorcycles; abandoned tents, destroyed carts, iron beams smelled of burning and inexplicable despondency. Gray cumulus clouds hung over the city. The puddles were covered with a light crust of dirty ice. And the winding streets and vast avenues resembled a lifeless desert strewn with the waste of nomads who once lived in it: goods thrown out of shops, broken wooden barrels, cheap goods in torn bags. Steam locomotives rode at full speed over the city, passing along the joints of the rails and making a soothing knocking sound.

"I can't believe that we didn't meet any policemen or soldiers. Where is everyone?"

"I don't know. But such a revolution doesn't end overnight."

"Maybe we caught a lull before the next fight?"

"I hope that when we return, we will catch another "lull". I don't want to wade through this ass anymore. It was enough."

***

They passed a bridge with a ruined railing, standing over a channel the color of mercury and metal. On the final leg of the journey, the wind raged, picking up snowflakes, dust and ash, and mixing them into small hurricanes. As if predicting the imminent deterioration of weather conditions. Alone in this slumbering ghost town, where otherworldly higher beings, even demons, even angels or geniuses, could sit on the roofs and pillars and watch what was happening.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

They came to the gates of the city. Closed for the first time in years. Two guards stood in front of the entrance and looked around as if they were expecting an attack. When Egon, Homer, Guillotine and Ofir came closer, they pointed the muzzles of their steam crossbows at them and ordered to stand still, although they were standing about forty-five meters away and it was quite difficult to make out what the guards were shouting. After the fifth questioning of each one of them, all four were allowed to come closer.

"Are you idiots?" Guillotine asked.

"What?" the guard replied.

"What are you doing?"

"What are we doing?"

"You are doing shit. Why are you pointing crossbows at us, huh?"

"We thought you were one of these. Well... you understand…"

"If we were from "these" you-two fuckers, we would be dead long ago. Who really believes that two people can hold back the gate?"

The guards looked at each other and shrugged.

"There are still watchmen and keepers up there. If somebody would kill us, they wouldn't be able to get through the gate anyway."

"Then why are you standing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you, living or the dead, have the same value, then what is the point of standing here and shining with your stupid expression on your face?"

"That's it, Guillotine, calm down," Egon said. "Let us through. We need to get out of the city."

"Where to?"

"I'll tell you the reason, out of spite."

Guillotine spat on the road, swore. The guards were silent, obviously waiting for at least some explanation. They frowned.

"We are going to play snowballs, the first snow has fallen, after all."

"I won't let you pass. We were forbidden."

"And why didn't you guys say so right away, huh? Do you want to show your importance? Then I'll tell you, you're not fucking cool or important. You're just two bronze gargoyles, not even fucking gold."

Guillotine was already prepared to take out his weapon for such an offensive insult, but Egon gave him a gesture to calm down, and then took a pass card from the pocket of his raincoat, slightly exposing his one-handed sword, and showed that he was an employee of a laboratory in a forbidden city.

"Let us through," Egon said from under his brows and took a step forward.

The guards retreated, and asked:

"Do those three have passes?"

"They wiped their asses with them when shat themselves with fear at the sight of an angry crowd running at them with weapons."

The guards looked at Egon in his eyes and decided not to raise the conflict to the absolute. One of them waved his hand and shouted something unintelligible, like those strange phrases that coachmen shouted to horses.

The gate creaked and opened; portcullis half rose behind it. The four of them walked forward and went out of the city. Everyone felt relieved. The danger is behind, and nature is ahead. There is no ash, no smoke, no heart-rending screams or spontaneous gang fights here. You can't even see the city slush. Just a few meters away, and what a huge difference.