Carrier. Conclusion.

Nothing could help the Lord's Knight, who had condemned himself to this suffering. Black fell, rose, dust in the wind.

And now he begins to see. Basic senses are developing like those of a small child. Black sees an old man with a staff and in a white robe,

similar to a Roman toga.

"To err is not human. It is common." The man's voice was old and tired. The old man's eyes, electric blue, seemed

older than time.

"Through the Void, you have reached me. You have found me, my child. From this day forward, you will seek me and find me in my creation. And when you find

the full path to me, all will find me and be filled with me. Go, my child, my scout.

" The voice resounded and dissolved somewhere on the edge of the galaxies. Black felt a tug, and then the cosmos returned to its place, filling

the infinite whiteness of Void with its colors. Black thought, memories, images, and the joy of life he had just regained returned.

The Lord, in his incomprehensible plan, had found a place for him and saved him from desperation. The host stood on one of Jupiter's moons,

feeling the chill of space on his skin, but he wasn't cold. He slowly removed his glasses and brought his hand to his face. His eyes ached beneath his fingers;

they were there again. He moved his other hand to the left side of his chest and felt the rhythmic beating of his heart, which had awakened from this

incredibly long sleep. Joy filled him; he felt as if it wanted to come out. But something else was wrong, a weight.

As if a several-kilogram backpack was pulling him backward. Black withdrew his hand to see what the hell it could be. The answer almost knocked him

off his feet. He felt long, soft feathers beneath his hands. He plucked one and felt a slight sting, as if someone were jabbing a syringe into his back.

The feather was beautiful, slender, emanating a pleasant warmth that slowly faded. Black leaned forward and slowly unfurled his steel-gray wings.

The Lord had made him a Winged One, an Angel of Durbhil, the Mad Gallop. His muscles stretched and were ready for life.

"Not bad for a Vatican priest.

" Black turned quickly and saw Jesus in a short black jacket, black pants, and high boots.

The Son of God sat on His motorcycle and laughed at his friend.

"I'll tell you, Jesus, that's pretty good."

They both started laughing. Black whistled briefly, and Treebeard appeared almost immediately. He shook his head and scratched the moon's surface with his hooves

in joy at his rider's return.

Black patted him and mounted, feeling a surge of energy.

"We're going to Gabriel's. Whoever loses will have to go to Rastufiel's for tea for the next thousand years."

"Jesus, isn't that a bit much? Rastufiel will tire you out." Black gave the Son of God a sharp smile and tensed his muscles.

Jesus responded with a similar smile and started the engine, which immediately engulfed in flames. Jesus seemed to be sitting on a fire

shaped like a machine.

"This time we're giving it our all!" Jesus shouted over the deafening roar of the engine, and he himself was covered in flames.

Black spread his wings. On the Pole, he now looked like a hussar preparing to charge. Jesus raised a flaming hand and counted on

his fingers. Three, two, one, GO!

Two forces, marked by power and the gift of freedom, sped through the cosmos. Those who managed to see them knew that the Lord was preparing to return.

The scout, Durbhil, traversing the Lord's infinite work, the cosmos, was racing toward the Kingdom of Heaven alongside the Son of God,

hundreds of thousands of years reflected in his eyes.