70

I moved away from Miguel when I noticed Tennebris lying on the floor. Of course, I should have imagined that the sound of thunder had to be his being punished for his audacity to go against the wishes of the Creator. Tennebris' face was pale, but his neck was filled with black blood, because the clothes that covered his chest opened in deep and wide cuts. But he didn't show pain.

Tennebris laughed when I knelt next to him, shaking my hands over his chest to try to cure him. The magenta power of my blood rose against Tennebris and descended along the entire length of his body, spreading with the sweet odor. The bleeding stopped, but the cuts were still visible against the clothes made in tatters. And Tennebris leaned on his elbows, as if he had just tried to disguise a slip, and opened a cruel smile.

"Well, that must mean that the first scourge was a failure," he contested, in a mocking voice, casting a quick look at the heavens.

When thunder cut the sky again, contradicting the sunny