The 4th scholar had sat there on his stone bed, in that place for nearly a century. Even before the worlds collided, an event he didn’t know happened, only the suicidal would visit a temple that made them sleep until they died, and those that were after a peaceful death didn't think to walk into his library. Another reason the temple had few visitors was because it was located on the 4th world, the world of ice and darkness. No intelligent creatures, aside from demons and some frost golems, lived on the 4th world; it was a world of death whose heart had long given up. It was only connected to the great city by chance, when the people of the 3rd world were searching through the void for somewhere to test new powers without endangering the city or any of the habitable worlds. When he was young, only just leaving home, a rumour was going around that the previous world scholar had found a way to die. At the time, he wasn’t interested in the method so he hadn’t paid any attention to it. World scholars were famous, even in the city so filled with wonders, as the keepers of all the world's knowledge; great sages who could ask the heart any question. In his youth he had seen it as an opportunity; a get rich quick scheme with fame as the prize. He had been just another person in the great city, a figure in the crowd, and he wanted to stand out more than anything.

As he went to bed that night, a red and green fire floated above the city, splitting into fragments and travelling to anyone who desired the role. On seeing that flame, somehow he knew it. He knew that if he didn’t go to the temple of the 4th world, the fire, that was now floating around him would just fizzle out and that would be the end of it. Alternatively, he could let the fire devour him inside the temple, burning him and birthing him anew with a connection to the word's heart. When he entered the temple for the first time, he was greeted by a woman on a large golden throne from across the room. She introduced herself as the spirit of lethargy, and told him that he would be the new scholar, and would serve beside her forever. He had thought that there would be others, that he would have to compete for the position, but no one else had arrived and he received the role by default. At first he was excited; it was an opportunity to work with the person closest to the world’s heart, the spirit made manifest. He was in such a good mood, at the time, that he hadn’t realised the implications of what she said.

He was immortal. He still aged, for centuries on end he still aged, and nothing could kill him. If his arm was severed, it would just float in place where it was cute until the wound was healed. His body functioned like an undead monster, though the books he had studied had assured him that he wasn’t. Although he still needed to eat and drink, he couldn’t die from not doing so, and the pain of starvation became entirely ignorable after a couple decades. Despite it not being any effort for her to do so, Leth never created food for him, and instead left him in a wasting agony, often forgetting about him entirely as she slept. Water, he got from the 4th Craftsman, another immortal servant, and one that seemed to enjoy his life, despite having been there since long before him.

He also couldn’t leave the temple, if he tried, the heavy metal doors simply wouldn’t open for him. Even leaving his room filled him with a compulsion to return to it. If he did somehow open the door and get out, the green-red flame would appear again, but not to kill him, instead to drag him back. Given even the flame wouldn’t kill him, he spent most of his days contemplating how his predecessor managed to find the sweet release of death.

The answer came to him one day, as a powerful earthquake shook through the temple. The fire was the answer. Although the fire tried not to kill him, it only pulled him with its outer edge. It couldn’t control its core. If he could force its core into contact with his head, there was no way he could recover. The only problem was, he hadn’t been strong enough to pull that off; he might not have ever been that strong. He also didn’t have much hope for someone else helping him, only people with world blessings could enter the temple without being affected by Leth's aura.

He had given up all hope, and even stopped moving or drinking, when a woman one day entered his room. Turning to face her, he thought that he was hallucinating, like he had many time before. But that time was different, he never would have imagined those dangerous eyes. The fierce green of the forest; none of his books had recorded that one, they were clearly eye's that had been effected by a world heart, but not one he had ever seen before. Could a new world have been found? Judging by the patterns, he would have guessed that it was a powerful one, and a dangerous one at that. But for a world to be as strong as those eyes would indicate, then the great city would have found it long ago. How it had remained hidden didn't particularly matter to him since, if a new world had been found, and it didn’t yet have a temple, then it would make sense that she could be there before him. Using a small drop of channelled power, he created water in his long dry throat. With the greatest effort he could manage, he was able to get his voice to wheeze out.

“Plea… Please… kill… me…” It was too quiet, to the point that he thought she wouldn’t hear him. To his surprise, she gave a shrug and replied.

“Okay, sure. But only if you can tell me how to wake my friends up.”

He couldn’t believe it. She could see his suffering and was holding relief ransom. He couldn’t help but wonder what her green could represent. There was clearly power there, a wildness that seemed to promote madness, like a host of powers each trapped in a spider's web that could snap at any moment. Putting her demand, and probable cruel nature, aside, she definitely had the power to kill him, probably without even needing the flame. Strung to her back was a black and red scythe, truly, she was the reaper he had longed to see. If he had any spare moisture in his body, he might have cried.

With great effort, he moved himself up towards a pile of books in the back of the room. His muscles had long since atrophied, but his immortality prevented them from disappearing entirely. Buried deep in the pile was a thin black book with emerald bindings; it was the book Countering World Spirits: 10 New Ways to Survive in Temples. It was a small text, only thirteen pages long, that summarised how to counteract the effects of each world spirit. He flipped through to the page on the 4th world. Other pages had more written but the 4th entry was somewhat thin, not even taking up half a page. It simply said, "Entering the 4th temple means to sleep yourself to death. The only way to wake someone up from that state is to circulate world energy through their body in the pattern shown in the following diagram, and move them out of the temple as fast as possible. As only people with world energy are able to survive entering, there aren’t any other known solutions.’

He thought that he was remembering it correctly, though he had confirmed it to be sure. It had been several centuries since he had last read it and the lady didn't look like she would forgive mistakes. She looked at the book with interest, then walked quickly out of the room. He hadn’t even told her yet, but she had already started to help her friends. Why had she bothered to ask him if she already knew the answer? Did she just forget and seeing the book jogged her memory? But the only copies of Countering World Spirits: 10 New Ways to Survive in Temples belonged to the world scholars; when would she have had an opportunity to read it? The green were always so enigmatic.

He joined her in the main hall as she filled the fainted people with energy, and moving them outside when they started to wake up. He could see his mistress was still sleeping on the throne, but could feel her anger at him none the less. With the people moved outside, he walked through the open door. Sure enough, the green-red fire appeared once more above his head.

“Now, please… cut through the… fire… and strike… my head.”

As he finished speaking, her companions gave shocked expressions but she drew her wicked scythe. With an emotionless face, she brought the heavy blade down and finally the bliss of death filled him. His final thoughts, as his spirit left his body, were the sudden realisation that the Countering World Spirits: 10 New Ways to Survive in Temples should have only had 12 pages in it when he had last read it.