Download comic book darkest night in Russian. Darkest Night (amateur translation)
In the distant fortress of Budapest, six immortal warriors - one more dangerously seductive than the other - are bound by an ancient curse that no one can break. When a powerful enemy returns, they will travel the world in search of a sacred relic of the gods - which threatens to destroy them all.
Maddox...
An immortal warrior who is cursed to die every night, only to wake up the next morning knowing that he must die again.
A mortal woman with power beyond imagination...
All her life, Ashlyn Darrow has been plagued by voices from her past. To put an end to the nightmare, she comes to Budapest, seeking help from people who are rumored to own supernatural powers. She does not know that she will fall into the hands of Maddox, the most dangerous of them all - a man imprisoned in his personal Hell.
Neither he nor she can resist the instant hunger that soothes the suffering...and ignites an irresistible passion. But with every hot touch and passionate kiss, they come closer to the brink of destruction - and also to a heartbreaking test of love...
Chapter one. 1
Chapter two. 4
Chapter three. 7
Chapter Four. 9
Chapter five. 12
Chapter six. 16
Chapter seven. 19
Chapter eight. 21
Chapter Nine. 24
Chapter ten. 27
Chapter Eleven. 30
Chapter twelve. 32
Chapter thirteen. 35
Chapter fourteen. 38
Chapter fifteen. 40
Chapter sixteen. 42
Chapter seventeen. 44
Chapter Eighteen. 46
Chapter nineteen. 48
Chapter twenty. 51
Chapter twenty one. 53
Chapter twenty two. 54
Chapter twenty-three. 56
Chapter twenty-four. 57
Chapter twenty-five. 59
Jena Showalter
Darkest Night (amateur translation)
Chapter one.
Death came every night, slowly, painfully, and every morning Maddox woke up in bed knowing he would have to die again. It was his greatest curse and eternal punishment. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wishing there was a blade on his enemy's throat instead. Most the day has already passed. He heard time slipping away, a poisonous tick-tock in his brain, each tick of the clock a mocking reminder of mortality and pain. In less than an hour, the first sting would dig into his stomach, and no matter what he did, no matter what he said, nothing would change it. Death will come for him.
“Damn the gods,” he muttered, increasing the speed of his exercises—barbell presses while lying on a bench.
"Bastards, every one of them," friend male voice spoke behind him.
Maddox's movements were not slowed by Thorin's uninvited intrusion. Up. Down. Up. Down. For two hours now he has been venting his frustration, dissatisfaction and anger on the punching bag, on the treadmill and now on the barbell. Sweat dripped down his bare chest and hands, sliding along the mounds of his muscles in clear rivers. He should be mentally exhausted, just as he was physically exhausted, but his emotions only grew darker, more powerful.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
Thorin sighed. "Listen. I didn't mean to interrupt, but something happened."
"So take care of it."
"I can't".
"Whatever it is, try it. I'm not in any shape to cooperate." These last few weeks had been all that was needed to create a murderous fog in his head when no one around him was safe. Even his friends. Especially his friends. He didn't want to, never intended to, but sometimes he was helpless against the impulses to destroy and maim.
"Maddox -".
"I'm on the edge, Thorin," he croaked. "I will do more harm than good."
Maddox knew his limits, had known them for thousands of years. Since that fateful day the gods chose a woman to carry out the task that should be his. Pandora was strong, the strongest female warrior of their time. But he was stronger. More capable. Yet he was considered too weak to guard dimOuniak, the sacred casket - the home of demons so vile, so harmful that they could not be placed even in the Underworld. As if Maddox could allow it to be destroyed. Sadness grew within him from the insult. In all of them, all the warriors now living here. They fought hard for the king of the gods, killed skillfully and defended thoroughly; they were to be chosen as guardians. It was an unbearable shame that they were not elected. They were only thinking of teaching the gods a lesson the night they stole dimOuniak from Pandora and unleashed that band of demons onto an unsuspecting world. What fools they were. Their plan to prove their strength failed when the chest was lost in the fray, leaving the warriors unable to capture anyone again. evil spirit. Destruction and disorder soon reigned, plunging the world into darkness until the king of the gods finally intervened, cursing every warrior to become a demon host. A fitting curse. The warriors released evil to avenge their wounded pride; now they will accommodate it.
And thus the Lords of the Underworld were born.
Maddox received Violence, a demon that was now as much a part of him as his lungs or heart. Now, man could no longer live without a demon, and the demon could no longer exist without man. They were woven together, two halves of a whole. From the first moments, the being inside him lured him to do evil things, hateful things, and he was forced to obey. Even when it led to killing a woman—killing Pandora. His fingers gripped the barbell so tightly that his joints almost popped out. Over the years he had learned to control some of the demon's most vile compulsions, but it was a constant struggle and he knew he could be overwhelmed at any moment. What he wouldn't give for a single day of peace. Without a strong desire to harm others. Without fighting within yourself. No worries. Without death. Only...peace.
"It's not safe for you here," he said to his friend, still standing in the doorway. "You must leave." He placed the silver projectile on the stand and stood up.
"Only Lucien and Rees are allowed to be near me at the time of my death." And only because they played their role in it, without wanting it themselves. They were as helpless before their demons as Maddox.
"There's still an hour before that happens, so..." Thorin tossed him a towel. "I'll take the risk."
Maddox reached behind his back, caught the white cloth, and turned around. He wiped his face. "Water".
The ice bottle was thrown into the air before the second syllable left his mouth. He deftly caught it, splashing moisture onto his chest. He drank the ice-cold contents and examined his friend. As usual, Thorin was dressed all in black and had gloves covering his hands. Blonde hair fell in waves onto his shoulders, framing his face, which mortal women considered a sensual holiday. They didn't know that the man was actually a devil in angel's clothing. Although they should have. He practically glowed with irreverence, and the unholy glint in his green eyes declared that he would laugh as he carved out your heart. Or laugh in your face while you cut out his heart. To survive, he had to find humor wherever he could. Like all of them.
Like every inhabitant of this Budapest fortress, Thorin was cursed. He might not die every night like Maddox, but he couldn't touch a living thing skin to skin without infecting it with disease. Thorin was possessed by the spirit of the Nemochi. He had not known a woman's touch for over four hundred years. He learned his lesson well, giving in to lust and caressing the face of a possible lover, thereby bringing a plague that devastated village after village. Person after person.
"Five minutes of your time," Thorin said decisively. "That's all I ask."
"Do you think we will be punished for insulting the gods today?" replied Maddox, ignoring his demand. If he does not allow himself to be asked for favors, he will not have to feel guilty for refusing. His friend let out another sigh. "Supposedly every breath we take is a punishment."
Really. Maddox's lips curved into a slow, razor-sharp smile as he stared at the ceiling. Bastards. Punish me further, I challenge you. Perhaps then, in the end, he will turn into nothing. Although he doubted the gods cared about them. After applying them deadly curse, they ignored them, pretending that they did not hear their pleas for forgiveness and remission of sins. Pretending not to hear their promises and desperate offers of deals. What more can they do with them, anyway? Nothing could be worse than dying over and over again. Or be deprived of everything good and good...or keep the spirit of Violence inside your mind and body.
Jena Showalter
Darkest Night (amateur translation)
Chapter one.
Death came every night, slowly, painfully, and every morning Maddox woke up in bed knowing he would have to die again. This was his greatest curse and eternal punishment. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wishing there was a blade on his enemy's throat instead. Most of the day has already passed. He heard time slipping away, a poisonous tick-tock in his brain, each tick of the clock a mocking reminder of mortality and pain. In less than an hour, the first sting would dig into his stomach, and no matter what he did, no matter what he said, nothing would change it. Death will come for him.
“Damn the gods,” he muttered, increasing the speed of his exercises—barbell presses while lying on a bench.
“Bastards, every single one of them,” a familiar male voice said behind him.
Maddox's movements were not slowed by Thorin's uninvited intrusion. Up. Down. Up. Down. For two hours now he has been venting his frustration, dissatisfaction and anger on the punching bag, the treadmill and now on the barbell. Sweat flowed down his bare chest and arms, sliding down the mounds of his muscles in clear rivulets. He should be mentally exhausted, just as he was physically exhausted, but his emotions only grew darker, more powerful.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
Thorin sighed. "Listen. I didn't mean to interrupt, but something happened."
“So take care of it.”
"I can't".
“Whatever it is, try it. I'm not in any shape to help." These last few weeks had been all that was needed to create a murderous fog in his head when no one around him was safe. Even his friends. Especially his friends. He didn't want to, never intended to, but sometimes he was helpless against the impulses to destroy and maim.
"Maddox -".
"I'm on the edge, Thorin," he croaked. “I will do more harm than good.”
Maddox knew his limits, had known them for thousands of years. Since that fateful day the gods chose a woman to carry out the task that should be his. Pandora was strong, the strongest female warrior of their time. But he was stronger. More capable. Yet he was considered too weak to guard dimOuniak, the sacred casket - the home of demons so vile, so harmful that they could not be placed even in the Underworld. As if Maddox could allow it to be destroyed. Sadness grew within him from the insult. In all of them, all the warriors now living here. They fought hard for the king of the gods, killed skillfully and defended thoroughly; they were to be chosen as guardians. It was an unbearable shame that they were not elected. They were only thinking of teaching the gods a lesson the night they stole dimOuniak from Pandora and unleashed that band of demons onto an unsuspecting world. What fools they were. Their plan to prove their strength failed when the casket was lost in the fight, leaving the warriors unable to capture any evil spirits again. Destruction and disorder soon reigned, plunging the world into darkness until the king of the gods finally intervened, cursing every warrior to become a demon host. A fitting curse. The warriors released evil to avenge their wounded pride; now they will accommodate it.
And thus the Lords of the Underworld were born.
Maddox received Violence, a demon that was now as much a part of him as his lungs or heart. Now, man could no longer live without a demon, and the demon could no longer exist without man. They were woven together, two halves of a whole. From the first moments, the being inside him lured him to do evil things, hateful things, and he was forced to obey. Even when it led to killing a woman—killing Pandora. His fingers gripped the barbell so tightly that his joints almost popped out. Over the years he had learned to control some of the demon's most vile compulsions, but it was a constant struggle and he knew he could be overwhelmed at any moment. What he wouldn't give for a single day of peace. Without a strong desire to harm others. Without fighting within yourself. No worries. Without death. Only...peace.
“It’s not safe for you here,” he said to his friend, still standing in the doorway. "You must leave." He placed the silver projectile on the stand and stood up.
"Only Lucien and Rees are allowed to be near me at the time of my death." And only because they played their role in it, without wanting it themselves. They were as helpless before their demons as Maddox.
"There's still an hour before that happens, so..." Thorin tossed him a towel. "I'll take the risk."
Maddox reached behind his back, caught the white cloth, and turned around. He wiped his face. "Water".
The ice bottle was thrown into the air before the second syllable left his mouth. He deftly caught it, splashing moisture onto his chest. He drank the ice-cold contents and examined his friend. As usual, Thorin was dressed all in black and had gloves covering his hands. His blond hair fell in waves over his shoulders, framing a face that mortal women considered a sensual feast. They didn't know that the man was actually a devil in angel's clothing. Although they should have. He practically glowed with irreverence, and the unholy glint in his green eyes declared that he would laugh as he carved out your heart. Or laugh in your face while you cut out his heart. To survive, he had to find humor wherever he could. Like all of them.
Like every inhabitant of this Budapest fortress, Thorin was cursed. He might not die every night like Maddox, but he couldn't touch a living thing skin to skin without infecting it with disease. Thorin was possessed by the spirit of the Nemochi. He had not known a woman's touch for over four hundred years. He learned his lesson well, giving in to lust and caressing the face of a possible lover, thereby bringing a plague that devastated village after village. Person after person.
“Five minutes of your time,” Thorin said decisively. "That's all I ask."
“Do you think we will be punished for insulting the gods today?” replied Maddox, ignoring his demand. If he does not allow himself to be asked for favors, he will not have to feel guilty for refusing. His friend let out another sigh. “Supposedly every breath we take is a punishment.”
Really. Maddox's lips curved into a slow, razor-sharp smile as he stared at the ceiling. Bastards. Punish me further, I challenge you. Perhaps then, in the end, he will turn into nothing. Although he doubted the gods cared about them. After placing a deadly curse on them, they ignored them, pretending not to hear their pleas for forgiveness and remission of sins. Pretending not to hear their promises and desperate offers of deals. What more can they do with them, anyway? Nothing could be worse than dying over and over again. Or be deprived of everything good and good...or keep the spirit of Violence inside your mind and body.
Jumping to his feet, Maddox tossed the now wet towel and empty water bottle into a nearby trash can. He strode to the far corner of the room and clasped his hands above his head, leaning into the semicircular alcove of stained glass windows and peering into the night through the only clear section.
He saw Paradise. He saw Hell. He saw freedom, prison, everything and nothing. He saw...a house.
Situated at the top of the castle hill, where the fortress was, he directly overlooked the city. The lights shone brightly, pinks, blues and purples - they illuminated the dusky velvet sky, reflecting on the Danube and framing the snow-shrouded trees that dominated the landscape. The wind raged, snowflakes danced and danced in the air.
Here he and the others had a modicum of privacy from the rest of the world. Here they were allowed to come and go without having to face a lot of questions.
Why don't you age? Why does your scream echo through the forest every night? Why do you sometimes look like a monster?
Here, the locals kept their distance, reverently, respectfully. “Angels,” he even heard such a whisper during rare encounters with mortals. If only they knew.
Maddox's nails elongated slightly, digging into the stone. Budapest was a city of sublime beauty, old-fashioned charm and modern pleasures, but he always felt removed from it. From the castle district, which stretched along one street, to the nightclubs that lined up further. From fruits and vegetables sold on one side street to livestock sold on another. Perhaps this sense of disconnection would have disappeared had he explored the city, but unlike the others who wandered at will, he was trapped inside the fortress and surrounding lands, just as the spirit of Violence was trapped inside Pandora's Box thousands of years ago.
Death came every night, slowly, painfully, and every morning Maddox woke up in bed knowing he would have to die again. This was his greatest curse and eternal punishment. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wishing there was a blade on his enemy's throat instead. Most of the day has already passed. He heard time slipping away, a poisonous tick-tock in his brain, each tick of the clock a mocking reminder of mortality and pain. In less than an hour, the first sting would dig into his stomach, and no matter what he did, no matter what he said, nothing would change it. Death will come for him.
“Damn the gods,” he muttered, increasing the speed of his exercises—barbell presses while lying on a bench.
“Bastards, every single one of them,” a familiar male voice said behind him.
Maddox's movements were not slowed by Thorin's uninvited intrusion. Up. Down. Up. Down. For two hours now he has been venting his frustration, dissatisfaction and anger on the punching bag, the treadmill and now on the barbell. Sweat flowed down his bare chest and arms, sliding down the mounds of his muscles in clear rivulets. He should be mentally exhausted, just as he was physically exhausted, but his emotions only grew darker, more powerful.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
Thorin sighed. "Listen. I didn't mean to interrupt, but something happened."
“So take care of it.”
"I can't".
“Whatever it is, try it. I'm not in any shape to help." These last few weeks had been all that was needed to create a murderous fog in his head when no one around him was safe. Even his friends. Especially his friends. He didn't want to, never intended to, but sometimes he was helpless against the impulses to destroy and maim.
"Maddox -".
"I'm on the edge, Thorin," he croaked. “I will do more harm than good.”
Maddox knew his limits, had known them for thousands of years. Since that fateful day the gods chose a woman to carry out the task that should be his. Pandora was strong, the strongest female warrior of their time. But he was stronger. More capable. Yet he was considered too weak to guard dimOuniak, the sacred casket - the home of demons so vile, so harmful that they could not be placed even in the Underworld. As if Maddox could allow it to be destroyed. Sadness grew within him from the insult. In all of them, all the warriors now living here. They fought hard for the king of the gods, killed skillfully and defended thoroughly; they were to be chosen as guardians. It was an unbearable shame that they were not elected. They were only thinking of teaching the gods a lesson the night they stole dimOuniak from Pandora and unleashed that band of demons onto an unsuspecting world. What fools they were. Their plan to prove their strength failed when the casket was lost in the fight, leaving the warriors unable to capture any evil spirits again. Destruction and disorder soon reigned, plunging the world into darkness until the king of the gods finally intervened, cursing every warrior to become a demon host. A fitting curse. The warriors released evil to avenge their wounded pride; now they will accommodate it.
And thus the Lords of the Underworld were born.
Maddox received Violence, a demon that was now as much a part of him as his lungs or heart. Now, man could no longer live without a demon, and the demon could no longer exist without man. They were woven together, two halves of a whole. From the first moments, the being inside him lured him to do evil things, hateful things, and he was forced to obey. Even when it led to killing a woman—killing Pandora. His fingers gripped the barbell so tightly that his joints almost popped out. Over the years he had learned to control some of the demon's most vile compulsions, but it was a constant struggle and he knew he could be overwhelmed at any moment. What he wouldn't give for a single day of peace. Without a strong desire to harm others. Without fighting within yourself. No worries. Without death. Only...peace.
“It’s not safe for you here,” he said to his friend, still standing in the doorway. "You must leave." He placed the silver projectile on the stand and stood up.
"Only Lucien and Rees are allowed to be near me at the time of my death." And only because they played their role in it, without wanting it themselves. They were as helpless before their demons as Maddox.
"There's still an hour before that happens, so..." Thorin tossed him a towel. "I'll take the risk."
Maddox reached behind his back, caught the white cloth, and turned around. He wiped his face. "Water".
The ice bottle was thrown into the air before the second syllable left his mouth. He deftly caught it, splashing moisture onto his chest. He drank the ice-cold contents and examined his friend. As usual, Thorin was dressed all in black and had gloves covering his hands. His blond hair fell in waves over his shoulders, framing a face that mortal women considered a sensual feast. They didn't know that the man was actually a devil in angel's clothing. Although they should have. He practically glowed with irreverence, and the unholy glint in his green eyes declared that he would laugh as he carved out your heart. Or laugh in your face while you cut out his heart. To survive, he had to find humor wherever he could. Like all of them.
Like every inhabitant of this Budapest fortress, Thorin was cursed. He might not die every night like Maddox, but he couldn't touch a living thing skin to skin without infecting it with disease. Thorin was possessed by the spirit of the Nemochi. He had not known a woman's touch for over four hundred years. He learned his lesson well, giving in to lust and caressing the face of a possible lover, thereby bringing a plague that devastated village after village. Person after person.
“Five minutes of your time,” Thorin said decisively. "That's all I ask."
“Do you think we will be punished for insulting the gods today?” replied Maddox, ignoring his demand. If he does not allow himself to be asked for favors, he will not have to feel guilty for refusing. His friend let out another sigh. “Supposedly every breath we take is a punishment.”
Really. Maddox's lips curved into a slow, razor-sharp smile as he stared at the ceiling. Bastards. Punish me further, I challenge you. Perhaps then, in the end, he will turn into nothing. Although he doubted the gods cared about them. After placing a deadly curse on them, they ignored them, pretending not to hear their pleas for forgiveness and remission of sins. Pretending not to hear their promises and desperate offers of deals. What more can they do with them, anyway? Nothing could be worse than dying over and over again. Or be deprived of everything good and good...or keep the spirit of Violence inside your mind and body.
Jumping to his feet, Maddox tossed the now wet towel and empty water bottle into a nearby trash can. He strode to the far corner of the room and clasped his hands above his head, leaning into the semicircular alcove of stained glass windows and peering into the night through the only clear section.
He saw Paradise. He saw Hell. He saw freedom, prison, everything and nothing. He saw...a house.
Situated at the top of the castle hill, where the fortress was, he directly overlooked the city. The lights shone brightly, pinks, blues and purples - they illuminated the dusky velvet sky, reflecting on the Danube and framing the snow-shrouded trees that dominated the landscape. The wind raged, snowflakes danced and danced in the air.
Here he and the others had a modicum of privacy from the rest of the world. Here they were allowed to come and go without having to face a lot of questions.
Why don't you age? Why does your scream echo through the forest every night? Why do you sometimes look like a monster?
Here, the locals kept their distance, reverently, respectfully. “Angels,” he even heard such a whisper during rare encounters with mortals. If only they knew.
Jena Showalter
Darkest Night (amateur translation)
Chapter one.
Death came every night, slowly, painfully, and every morning Maddox woke up in bed knowing he would have to die again. This was his greatest curse and eternal punishment. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wishing there was a blade on his enemy's throat instead. Most of the day has already passed. He heard time slipping away, a poisonous tick-tock in his brain, each tick of the clock a mocking reminder of mortality and pain. In less than an hour, the first sting would dig into his stomach, and no matter what he did, no matter what he said, nothing would change it. Death will come for him.
“Damn the gods,” he muttered, increasing the speed of his exercises—barbell presses while lying on a bench.
“Bastards, every single one of them,” a familiar male voice said behind him.
Maddox's movements were not slowed by Thorin's uninvited intrusion. Up. Down. Up. Down. For two hours now he has been venting his frustration, dissatisfaction and anger on the punching bag, the treadmill and now on the barbell. Sweat flowed down his bare chest and arms, sliding down the mounds of his muscles in clear rivulets. He should be mentally exhausted, just as he was physically exhausted, but his emotions only grew darker, more powerful.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
Thorin sighed. "Listen. I didn't mean to interrupt, but something happened."
“So take care of it.”
"I can't".
“Whatever it is, try it. I'm not in any shape to help." These last few weeks had been all that was needed to create a murderous fog in his head when no one around him was safe. Even his friends. Especially his friends. He didn't want to, never intended to, but sometimes he was helpless against the impulses to destroy and maim.
"Maddox -".
"I'm on the edge, Thorin," he croaked. “I will do more harm than good.”
Maddox knew his limits, had known them for thousands of years. Since that fateful day the gods chose a woman to carry out the task that should be his. Pandora was strong, the strongest female warrior of their time. But he was stronger. More capable. Yet he was considered too weak to guard dimOuniak, the sacred casket - the home of demons so vile, so harmful that they could not be placed even in the Underworld. As if Maddox could allow it to be destroyed. Sadness grew within him from the insult. In all of them, all the warriors now living here. They fought hard for the king of the gods, killed skillfully and defended thoroughly; they were to be chosen as guardians. It was an unbearable shame that they were not elected. They were only thinking of teaching the gods a lesson the night they stole dimOuniak from Pandora and unleashed that band of demons onto an unsuspecting world. What fools they were. Their plan to prove their strength failed when the casket was lost in the fight, leaving the warriors unable to capture any evil spirits again. Destruction and disorder soon reigned, plunging the world into darkness until the king of the gods finally intervened, cursing every warrior to become a demon host. A fitting curse. The warriors released evil to avenge their wounded pride; now they will accommodate it.
And thus the Lords of the Underworld were born.
Maddox received Violence, a demon that was now as much a part of him as his lungs or heart. Now, man could no longer live without a demon, and the demon could no longer exist without man. They were woven together, two halves of a whole. From the first moments, the being inside him lured him to do evil things, hateful things, and he was forced to obey. Even when it led to killing a woman—killing Pandora. His fingers gripped the barbell so tightly that his joints almost popped out. Over the years he had learned to control some of the demon's most vile compulsions, but it was a constant struggle and he knew he could be overwhelmed at any moment. What he wouldn't give for a single day of peace. Without a strong desire to harm others. Without fighting within yourself. No worries. Without death. Only...peace.
“It’s not safe for you here,” he said to his friend, still standing in the doorway. "You must leave." He placed the silver projectile on the stand and stood up.
"Only Lucien and Rees are allowed to be near me at the time of my death." And only because they played their role in it, without wanting it themselves. They were as helpless before their demons as Maddox.
"There's still an hour before that happens, so..." Thorin tossed him a towel. "I'll take the risk."
Maddox reached behind his back, caught the white cloth, and turned around. He wiped his face. "Water".
The ice bottle was thrown into the air before the second syllable left his mouth. He deftly caught it, splashing moisture onto his chest. He drank the ice-cold contents and examined his friend. As usual, Thorin was dressed all in black and had gloves covering his hands. His blond hair fell in waves over his shoulders, framing a face that mortal women considered a sensual feast. They didn't know that the man was actually a devil in angel's clothing. Although they should have. He practically glowed with irreverence, and the unholy glint in his green eyes declared that he would laugh as he carved out your heart. Or laugh in your face while you cut out his heart. To survive, he had to find humor wherever he could. Like all of them.
Like every inhabitant of this Budapest fortress, Thorin was cursed. He might not die every night like Maddox, but he couldn't touch a living thing skin to skin without infecting it with disease. Thorin was possessed by the spirit of the Nemochi. He had not known a woman's touch for over four hundred years. He learned his lesson well, giving in to lust and caressing the face of a possible lover, thereby bringing a plague that devastated village after village. Person after person.
“Five minutes of your time,” Thorin said decisively. "That's all I ask."
“Do you think we will be punished for insulting the gods today?” replied Maddox, ignoring his demand. If he does not allow himself to be asked for favors, he will not have to feel guilty for refusing. His friend let out another sigh. “Supposedly every breath we take is a punishment.”
Really. Maddox's lips curved into a slow, razor-sharp smile as he stared at the ceiling. Bastards. Punish me further, I challenge you. Perhaps then, in the end, he will turn into nothing. Although he doubted the gods cared about them. After placing a deadly curse on them, they ignored them, pretending not to hear their pleas for forgiveness and remission of sins. Pretending not to hear their promises and desperate offers of deals. What more can they do with them, anyway? Nothing could be worse than dying over and over again. Or be deprived of everything good and good...or keep the spirit of Violence inside your mind and body.
Jumping to his feet, Maddox tossed the now wet towel and empty water bottle into a nearby trash can. He strode to the far corner of the room and clasped his hands above his head, leaning into the semicircular alcove of stained glass windows and peering into the night through the only clear section.
He saw Paradise. He saw Hell. He saw freedom, prison, everything and nothing. He saw...a house.
Situated at the top of the castle hill, where the fortress was, he directly overlooked the city. The lights shone brightly, pinks, blues and purples - they illuminated the dusky velvet sky, reflecting on the Danube and framing the snow-shrouded trees that dominated the landscape. The wind raged, snowflakes danced and danced in the air.
Here he and the others had a modicum of privacy from the rest of the world. Here they were allowed to come and go without having to face a lot of questions.
Why don't you age? Why does your scream echo through the forest every night? Why do you sometimes look like a monster?
Here, the locals kept their distance, reverently, respectfully. “Angels,” he even heard such a whisper during rare encounters with mortals. If only they knew.
"Blackest Night" is a best-selling comic book series published in 2009 by DC Comics - DC Comics. The story was written by comic industry veteran Geoff Johns. The most magnificent drawings are from the pencil of Ivan Reis. “Blackest Night” is a global cosmic event in the universe of superheroes; over the decades, heroes have died and come back to life: Superman, Green Strala, Wonder Woman, Flash and others, all this will lead to the onset of the Blackest Night. Darkest Night will recharge the Universe just as Green Lantern: Rebirth recharged the Green Lantern Corps. The groundwork for the story was laid after the resurrection of Hal Georgean and in the "Sinestro Corps war" in Green Lantern (vol. 4, #25). During the war between the Green Lantern Corps and the Sinestro Corps, Guardians Ganzet and Seid told the four Green Lanterns of Earth - Hal Jordan, Guy Gardner, John Stewart and Kyle Rayner - the prophecy of the "Blackest Night" nights)".
The prophecy predicts a war between the spectra of light - Green– willpower, Red – hatred, Orange – greed, Yellow – fear, Blue – hope, Indigo – compassion, Purple – love, Black – DEATH. According to the prophecy, the three Corps of Light will be united by a fourth, each of which is controlled by a specific emotion and equipped with a special color of the emotional spectrum. One of them will lead the War of Light, which will destroy the entire Universe. Only together and united, the owners of rings of different spectra of light can cause a threat to the entire Universe. In Gotham City, the mysterious villain Black Hand digs up Bruce Wayne's grave, knowing that he is Batman, and takes his skull. During the reading of the oath, the ring of the Black Hand begins to glow and those who have long disappeared from the face of the Earth - its Heroes - return. But they did not come with good this time. They will bring Death to all living things and every fallen hero of good will rise from the grave. And everyone will have to get rings one way or another and fight the new Evil.
