Leather bound books littered the floor, scraps of parchment were thrown across the tables, and in the middle of it all sat Pestilence. As soon as Death had left him to find their brothers, Pestilence had sprung into action. Of all the knowledge stored in the small bunker, he was convinced there must be something hidden away that he could use to help him. So he pulled out every single piece of text he could and scanned them through, hoping for even a hint of help. But nearly fourteen hours later, he had not found anything even remotely useful to him. He sighed and threw down the book he was holding, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other hand. He knew he was running out of time but no matter what he did nothing seemed to give him any kind of answer. His mind constantly kept flicking back to what Death had told him before he left.

"Look within yourself. You hold the key"

Pestilence was almost proud that his brother had so much faith in him but fearful that his faith had been terribly misplaced. How was he purpose to find the answer? He was the Creator Of Disease, not a healer or curer. Humans seemed to be able to prevent and even exterminate at least some of the things he created but that took them years of research and testing and Pestilence was fully aware that he did not have that time to spare. It was far more likely that the answer he needed so desperately was tucked away in some dusty old manuscript rather than in himself. But just as he reached over to pull another book from the shelf, his mind suddenly thought of something. What if he had it all wrong? What if all he need to do was change his thinking around? He wasn't, and would never be, a curer of diseases. But everything that is created can be changed if not destroyed. Maybe that was what he needed to do. Despite their differences, every disease had a basic method and coding of creation. But if that method was performed in reverse...

Pestilence stood up so fast he stumbled on the books surrounding him and fell back into the chair sat by the desk next to him. A wave of energy surged through him and he immediately began gathering up everything he needed to create the base for a disease. His mind raced as fast as his body as he wondered how he had not thought of this solution before. He smiled slightly to himself and silently thanked Death wherever he was for that final push he had needed to realise what he had to do. Despite not being in his usual place of work, Pestilence still managed to collect together everything he needed. He knew it wouldn't quite be enough to change back what he had done but he hoped it would at the very least capture Amara's attention and force her to face him. Slowly he began the process, his senses on constant high alert. But the further along the course of reverse-creation he got, the less certain he was that Amara would make her expected appearance. His heart pounded in his chest as he clutched the final ingredient in his hand. His eyes flickered around him but he saw nothing. Gradually his fingers uncurled and the last ingredient fell into the bowl. A small puff of grey smoke burst from the bowl but nothing else happened. Pestilence sighed and ran his hands across his face. But then a storm of black smoke erupted from behind him, coupled with booming laughter.

"Did you really think something so simple would stop me?"

Pestilence spun on his heels to be faced with Amara, accompanied by her usual streams of smoke. Immediately his hands balled into fists by his sides at the sight of her confident smirk.

"What have you done?" Pestilence growled through gritted teeth but Amara noticed that he didn't dare take a step towards her.

"I did what you wanted" Amara shrugged nonchalantly.

"What I wanted? This was nothing like what I wanted. You're destroying the entire world! Please, just reverse what you have done"

"Ha! What I've done? My dear Pestilence, this was all you. All I did was give you a means to an end"

"I asked you to help me!"

"You are the first face I have seen in aeons. You presented me with the means to get exactly what I wanted and you expect me to let you ruin it all? Have you seen how God made this place? It's so broken and weak. But you gave me the chance to erase it all, to start over. And I will get what I want... I'll get what I DESERVE!"

Pestilence stumbled back at the power in her voice. He noticed the familiar curls of smoke pouring off her which indicted her anger towards him. Suddenly she stepped forward, almost out of her cloud of smoke and Pestilence's body completely froze. She had never done that before; she had always been trapped inside her mass of smoke and darkness.

"My power is growing" Amara smirked, answering Pestilence's silent question "Soon I will not need you. I will be free of my prison and I will have what I have always wanted. All thanks to you"

Her sweet smile was filled with malice. Pestilence tried to move back further but crashed into the bookcase behind him. He had no idea what to do. The only way the current situation could be made worse would be Amara's release, so Pestilence knew he had to stop her but he just didn't know how. But then Death's words appeared in his head and a spark was lit. Slowly the spark grew into an idea which in turn became a crude form of a plan. It was practically suicide and he wasn't certain it would even work, but he had no choice but to try. He took a slow breath, steadied himself on his feet, dragged his eyes away from Amara and stepped around the chair towards the box of ingredients that he had kept hidden under the table. Reversing the disease itself wouldn't be enough, he had to get rid of the source; he had to send Amara back by reversing the summoning spell. Amara cocked her head slightly in curiousity at what he was doing. But as soon as she realised where his plan was going, she lunged forwards. Pestilence flinched but continued his work as her nails barely missed his face.

"Stop it! I command you to stop at once!" Amara wailed, frustrated with the invisible chain that prevented her from leaving her cage of blackness. A great gust of wind blew past Pestilence, sending the papers around him up into the air but his eyes did not move from the bowl as he poured in each ingredient. The chair behind him shattered against the wall, the lights above him burst, and Amara's screams grew louder and louder. He heard the creek of wood behind him and only just had time to grab the bowl into his arms and dive out of the way before the bookcase tipped over and smashed against the table. Finally, Pestilence put the bowl down on the floor, lit the match in his hand and threw it into the collection of ingredients, completing the spell. A burning bright light burst from the bowl and Pestilence tripped back, trying to shield his eyes. Amara let out a shattering scream and Pestilence felt himself be thrown backwards. His body slammed into the brick wall behind him, causing the Horseman's head to spin. Blood was rushing in his ears as his vision blurred. He could vaguely hear Amara's final, desperate scream before he slumped down and lost all consciousness.