Plamen and Ivet were barely alive after the massacre carried out by The Evil Being.
They were traumatized, disturbed by the fact that the thing they feared most—the one foretold to destroy their beloved world—was Sasho, Plamen's closest friend, whom he had betrayed for the love of the girl he adored."
Here they stood, beneath the ruins of Kartala—wounded, but alive."
Plamen jumped to save Ivet from the falling buildings,while mumbling "This can't be real,I must be dreaming!"
But this was real.All of this.It was the reality.
"Help!" said Ivet with a shattered voice.
Plamen was overwhelmed.Exhausted.Worried.Worried that the love of his life could die every second.
He rushed to her,praying that he could save her.
As she was stretching her hand for help,Plamen jumped towards her and pulled her out of the rocks.She was alive.Barely.
"Thank god you're safe!" said Plamen with joy.
"All thanks to you!" said Ivet.
Plamen then grabbed her and went somewhere safe.The stadium.A place where the medical staff could help them.
Little did they know,that stadium was once the place where The Evil Being was born.A place with aura so malevolent,that even the bravest of the gods were scared and frightened.
But they didnt know that.They only became easier to find.Because he know where they were…
Back to Pishmana,where Misho and Kalin ended up.
They were far from wounded,but they were afraid.Terrified.And broken from the fact that their closest friend was The Evil Being.
Misho was hitting his head on the wall.
"Only if I knew,only if I knew that Sasho was the enemy,no one would be hurt.Its all my fault.Its because of my own mistakes that everyone is hurt."
"Its not your fault" said calmly Kalin.
"You did your best and you helped us all to achieve what we wanted.If it wasn't for you,we would all have been dead by now."
"No its my fault I couldn't defend my friends and more importantly-her."
He began crying and punching the wall.Kalin calmed him down.
"Its okay.We will defeat Sasho and everything will be fine.I swear."
Then they decided to take down Sasho and save everyone.
They had a plan.
Kalin wanted to be the first one to defeat Sasho.
"I will probably fail to defeat him,but I will slow him down,so Plamen can do it."
Plamen promised himself that one day,when he was alone with Ivet,he would confess his feelings for her.Today was that day.Kalin and Misho knew it too.
"I will achieve his dream and I will help my friends!" said Kalin.
"When u see The Blood moon,be sure that Im done and its your turn to slow him down."
The Blood moon was a rare occasion that happened only when The Evil Being killed one of The Four children of The Borderline.That was the sign that they can use.
"Okay,please dont die,I cant lose you!" said Misho.
"Don't worry I wont die."
And then he disappeared.In the blink of an eye,he used The Flash step-a flash like ability that only The four children can use.It allows them to travel a distance in the speed of light.Kalin was the only one who mastered it.
Then after a long search,Kalin found him.
He stood there with his all might,darkness flowing around him,his eyes-black eith the souls of the dead.He was unfazed.
Kalin stood paralyzed, not by weakness, but by the unbearable weight of what was now required of him. His hand, trembling, summoned fire—not for warmth, but for destruction. His eyes, wide and hollow, searched the face of the man before him. But he found no face, only darkness. His friend—once human, now something else entirely—stood unwavering, his bow of shadows taut, expression untouched by emotion, by memory, by mercy.
The rain fell then—not sudden, but as if the sky had, after long deliberation, resigned itself to mourning. It was not merely weather. It was a verdict.
And in that still, miserable space between thunder and silence, Kalin spoke—not with rage, not with hope, but with the quiet desperation of a soul still reaching for meaning:
"Why?"
The reply came like a whisper dragged across eternity:
"It is written in the Book of Olympus. This… this is our fate."
And then, without hesitation—perhaps even with relief—they fired.
What followed was not a battle. It was an epiphany. The light and dark collided, not like enemies, but like brothers who had long misunderstood each other. The explosion—if one could call it that—was not merely destructive. It was beautiful. Terrible, sublime, necessary. Good and evil became indistinguishable for a moment.
Kalin was cast into the air like a broken thought, hurled through the bones of the city until he landed in the Horse District—where old monuments stood, as if watching history repeat itself yet again.
He lay there, his body nearly unrecognizable, his eye pierced by the cold blade of the Horse Rider's statue, as though fate itself had scorned his sacrifice. His chest barely moved. Yet his eyes, those weary, guilt-laden eyes, remained open—gazing into the void, not in fear, but in a quiet, almost sacred hope: that perhaps his suffering had meaning. That perhaps, he had bought his friend even a moment of salvation.
The moon had turned red.
Not the red of roses, nor of passion, but the red of judgment—of blood dried on stone, of oaths broken in silence. It hung above the city like an ancient eye, watching without pity, offering no answers.
Misho saw it, and his heart seized. A primitive fear gripped him—not of monsters, nor of death, but of absence. The kind of fear that knows loss before confirmation. He whispered Kalin's name into the night, though no one answered. The silence did.
He imagined his friend lying somewhere beyond the horizon, swallowed by the same shadows they had once vowed to overcome. The thought pressed down on him like a weight beneath the ribs. But no—Kalin had made a promise. And Kalin did not break promises.
That thought became his anchor.
Misho clenched his fists, not in anger, but in defiance of despair. He had seen too many people swallowed by the dark—not only the one that prowled the streets, but the one that crept inside men's hearts, slow and patient.
Now he would face it. Not as a hero. Not even as a man certain of victory. But as someone who could no longer bear to do nothing.
With a final breath, Misho threw himself into the night—into the mouth of the storm, where his friend had fallen, and where fate awaited its next answer.