Истории Ironmans

The boy's chest barely rose. His body, gaunt and hollow-eyed, clung to life with a thread so thin it could snap with the next breeze. Hunger had already gnawed at his muscles and spirit, and the street he lay upon was littered with others who shared the same fate. The world didn't pause for the dying; it simply stepped over them. High above, the Watcher observed. A drifting soul - unmoored, wandering between realms - caught his attention. Without intervention, it would scatter into nothing. Against his better judgment, he reached down, binding the soul to the frail shell below. It was a body on the verge of collapse, but with a precise touch, he coaxed enough life into it to keep the vessel from disintegrating. The Watcher sighed. "Now I don't even know what I might do because of that old fool... hah."