Pestilence was beginning to worry. Something about Amara seemed to be changing. They were almost ready to release the disease; a few last changes were all that was needed before it would be complete. But something wasn't right. Everything had seemed too easy. Amara was a huge force and more powerful than anything Pestilence had ever known, but she was almost too powerful. She fixed any problem which such ease and the entire process had just seemed far too simple. By Pestilence's original calculations, they should still have another few months before the disease would be anywhere near ready but here he was, making the final preparations. So, after much anxious thought, he decided to call upon Amara and ask her how she had done everything so quickly. He knew being upfront ran the risk of upsetting her but for some strange and slightly twisted reason, he had grown to trust her. She wanted this almost as much as he did and they both knew they needed to work together to get what they wanted. So he quickly performed the re-summoning ritual and once again Amara appeared before him in a cloud of deep, black smoke.

"Is it finished?" she asked just a little too eagerly.

"Not quite"

"Then why have you summoned me?"

"I, um... well, you see... the thing is"

"Spit it out!" Amara's voice rose in volume and Pestilence flinched a little. He knew he was already stepping on dangerous ground.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure we really are ready to do this"

"Of course we are" Amara's vocal defences were shooting up around all her and Pestilence's heart began to pound in his chest.

"I'm just stunned that we've managed to do it so quickly. By my calculations, we should still be months away"

"You dare doubt my power?" Amara roared. Pestilence tried to splutter out some form of apology but Amara's mind was already made up. Her eyes grew dark and smoke seemed to filter out from her black dress, slowly filling the room.

"I'll show you the true extent of my power, you worthless Horseman!"

Pestilence's hand shot up to his throat as the smoke in the room began to drown out the oxygen. His vision clouded and he fell to his knees, clutching at his chest. The smoke curled around him, pulling at his body and squeezing the air out of him. In desperation, he called out for his eldest brother but nothing more than a chocked groan came from his lips. His head pounded and his chest burned.

But then all of a sudden, it was gone. The smoke cleared and Pestilence looked up to see that Amara was nowhere in sight. Pain shuddered through his body and for a while he was motionless; crouched on the floor, rapidly sucking in oxygen and adjusting his eyes back to the light. Once he felt like he wasn't about to collapse, his eyes found the slip of parchment that was sat in the empty bowl Pestilence had used to summon Amara. Curious, he crawled over to the bowl and picked the note up. On it was a single sentence, written in beautiful calligraphy.

You should not have doubted me.

Pestilence stared at the words. He tried to reassure himself that it was fine; everything would still go how he had wanted it to go. He was so close, nothing to stop him now. But somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, a truly dark fear began to fester. A fear that would soon be recognised.

Everything was completely normal at first. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the world. Pestilence couldn't make contact with Amara but that didn't worry him too much. After what had happened a few days previous, he was glad she hadn't returned just to blast him into oblivion. So, he continued his work as usual. That was his first mistake.

After a few hours of pouring away at his notes, he sat up and stretched a little. That's when he noticed the smell. It was the smell of disease, Pestilence had no doubt about that. But it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Quickly he looked out of his window and he almost gasped at the sight before him. Humans were surrounded by his disease- the one he and Amara had created together. He transported himself to the hospital he was at when the whole idea had first come to him and his mouth spread into a toothy grin. All around him the humans were running about with their silly little machines, their small minds frantic as they tried to figure out what was happening. He stared in complete disbelief as they coughed, sneezed, gasped, and stumbled as their veins filled with illness. But then his head tilted to the side in confusion. How had the disease gotten out? Was this Amara's way of apologizing? Had it been an accident? Was it even truly ready yet? These questions swam viciously in Pestilence's head as he made his way back to his study. Frantically, he pulled out every note he had ever made on the disease, desperate to know how it could have gotten out into the world and what would happen if it wasn't ready yet. But even after hours of reading all of his work, he still had no idea about the answers to the questions he faced. But just when he was beginning to think there was nothing to worry about, Death burst into his room.

"What have you done?" Death stood in the doorway, his hands shaking and his eyes held an odd emotion that he had never seen before in his brother. Pestilence had no idea what to do. Had his brother finally found out about what he had been doing with Amara? Had Amara told him? Was that what she meant when she warned him about angering her?

"Pestilence! Tell me what you have done" Death's voice was low and quiet and Pestilence froze. He had never heard such anger in his brother's voice before.

"I haven't-" Pestilence tried to explain but Death cut him off.

"Don't you dare tell me you have done nothing! What is going on out there? What have you created?"

"It was just a new disease. It shouldn't be ready yet. I don't know how it got out" Pestilence silently reassured himself that he wasn't lying to his brother. He was just twisting the truth quite a bit.

"Do you have any idea what you've created? Almost the entire planet has become infected with this thing in a matter of hours and from how fast it's traveled and spread they should all be dead by now. But I have not had to claim a single person's soul. Not one. They're trapped in a never ending agony. I knew you were trying to create something new but I never thought you could be this... cruel"

And then it clicked. Pestilence realised what seemed so strange about his brother as that last word rolled form his lips. Death was scared. He was scared of what his brother had done and what he could be becoming. Once Death saw that Pestilence still had nothing to say he turned and left, slamming the door just a little too loudly behind him. Pestilence stood motionless, staring at the door. His eyes grew wide as his brother's words played over in his head and suddenly his body sprang into frantic action. He desperately grabbed everything he needed from his shelves and performed the re-summoning ritual. But nothing happened; Amara was nowhere to be seen. So he tried again and again but still there was nothing. Finally Pestilence collapsed down into his chair and ran his hand through his hair. He tried to calm himself and convince himself that it was all fine. Amara would appear eventually and they would talk about what was going on. It would all be okay...