Price of the Light

1

It was particularly difficult night for Roland. Having left his friends, he hid in the library: a wild burning headache and a burning cold flame in his heart intensified towards evening. The pain bothered him before, but in recent days they become more intense. After Nella's reporting in a letter about victims deprived of their souls, he began to be haunted with the idea that perhaps this could happen to him. The cold flame in the heart did not just cause physical pain, but as if it burned out all the best and brightest in the soul. In the afternoon the pain went away, and in the evening returned. Roland did not want Evan and any of his friends noticed the suffering and worried for him, so he did not say anything to anyone, and tried to hold on as though what had happened. To somehow drown out the torment, Roland locked himself in the library and went to reading until late at night. He did the same that night , but while reading the history of the colonization of ancient tribes of the land many centuries ago, on which Evermore is located, and about the outlandish traditions of the settlers, such a severe pain suddenly flashed in his heart as if he had been stabbed in the chest with a knife . Space and surrounding objects swam before my eyes. Roland, gathering his will into a fist and gritting his teeth, went out into the corridor and, not seeing anything and nobody in front of his eyes, clutching his heart, quickly ran to his room. When he finally reached it, he fell onto the bed and seemed to have completely lost his mind. His head was breaking and burning, as if inside it was cut with tiny red-hot blades, it seemed to him that just about - and he would burn and die. But the cold flame in the heart cooled and did not allow to die, making suffering and torment lasting, as in hell. "Maybe I'm really in hell?"

Roland flew down somewhere, losing touch with reality. And the same pestering constantly sorrowful pictures and images joined the hellish pain: the reproving look of his son in a wheelchair, his eyes full of tears and fear. Then he is in New York, traveling as a delegation to an important meeting to regulate world security, a crimson star flashes in the sky outside, burning and sweeping everything from the face of the earth, leaving flying ashes and dead sky from life. The flame from the star spread to the remains of the car, which crushed him to the ground, he felt the touch of furious hissing tongues. So hot! But strangely, in the last seconds of the fading of consciousness, he heard someone calling him:

"Roland!"

There was fear in the voice.

But for some reason he still did not die, and his head and body burned so strongly. He was choking.

Suddenly lying among the burning remnants of the world, he saw an angel descend from heaven. He put a cool white hand on his forehead. The red sky became blue and clear, and emerald-blue stones poured from it, which, reaching it, turned into crystal drops spreading over his face, neck and hands, giving the desired coolness.

The burning sensation in the head and in the heart began to weaken, he began to float up - to reality. Through the veil separating reality and delirium, he began to make his own room in a vague form, as in the white mist, and the contours of the figures, who sat next to whom he can not been made out. Her hands, emitting a pleasant, refreshing scent, reminiscent of the scent of lemon balm or mint, mixed with the scent of lily of the valley, wiped his hands, neck and face with a piece of soft cloth. Then, carefully, taking the weight of his limp body onto her fragile shoulders, she adjusted the pillows beneath him. With one hand supporting his head, she brought to his mouth a transparent glass, in which some wonderful liquid flickered with azure radiance.

"Roland, please drink this".

It seemed to Roland that he had plunged into a pond with living water, shimmering in the light of the sun with iridescent flickering glare. The whole body was filled with pleasant coolness and freshness, pain in the heart and head completely stopped, clarity returned to reason. Literally for a second, the foggy veil subsided and he caught green eyes, dark hair, soft movements of his hands, from which he breathed care and tenderness.

"Can not be! This is..." he again fell into the fog, but this time he was struck not by pain, but by a calm sleep, not having time to realize who became his saving angel.

When he woke up, he noticed a play of azure-blue light flares on the ceiling. It seemed to him for a moment that he was floating in a gondola through the clear waters of Hydropolis to the traditional melody played by merfolks on every corner of the city on different instruments and in a different way. He rose and felt strong, as if there was no crazy night. Apparently, a really wonderful angel cured him. Roland went to the table and noticed several stems of a strange plant in a small vase: tiny colorful flowers in the form of the finest and lightest brilliant stones of azure, white and emerald colors fluttered on them, shimmering in the morning sun, exuding that very refreshing fragrance that resembled the scent of lemon balm or peppermint. The balm of these herbs saved him. He wondered who brought them. Roland tried to recall the image that had surfaced for a moment, when reason returned to it for a moment. It seemed to him that the outlines of the image resembled his wife, but he regarded this thought as a game of confused reason.