The long, slender figure of my neighbor materializes right in front of us, and to my utter bewilderment, his daughter stands at his side.
“Look at them, Angel. Here they are. One too stubborn to accept defeat, the other too ignorant to recognize it.” His voice, as sweet and intoxicating as ever, has now an unfamiliar effect on me. It frightens me. I press myself into my mother for protection. The irony isn’t lost on me—I’m seeking refuge with the person I once thought my enemy, from the person I once believed to be my friend. My whole world has turned upside down tonight.
“But Dad,” Angel flutters happily, “they don’t look dangerous at all. I think they look a little sad.”
“That’s sweet of you, Angel, but you, of all people, should know appearances can be deceiving. The light of truth gives everything its true color.” Where his words send a shiver down my spine with their implicit threat, my mother remains unmoved. Resolutely, she steps between Mastro and me.
“The light of truth, Julius? Is that what you stand for now? Not getting any more modest, are you?”
If I hadn’t already figured out from whom I inherited my sharp tongue, it’s clear now, but seeing it wielded by someone else than me, I’m strangely shocked. How did I get away with it all this time? This is asking for trouble.
“Mom, maybe you...”
“Not now, Tinderstick. This is between my classmate and me. This is personal.” Her words are calm and controlled, making one thing clear: the gloves are off. Mastro looks at her with a faint, condescending smile.
“As always, your tongue proves to be almost as lethal as your excellent water talent.” I can’t help but smile involuntarily. Is my mother’s name Marianne? “But you’ve got quite the nerve for someone whose body is lying in some sleazy back room, knocked out by too much drugs. Tell me, are they very addictive? Dangerous, perhaps?”
My smile vanishes, like a bird shot out of the sky. How could I forget? She isn’t really here. She’s just a projection of her mind. I’m the only one truly present here. The physical bodies of my mother, Mastro, and Angel are still in the real world.
“Such a waste,” says Mastro with mock regret. “You were always our most talented student. Nobody has ever navigated the shadow-world as you do—well, except for me, of course. But that’s only natural. I’m Mastro. Still, I have to admit, I did fall for your ‘fallen-mother’ act. That stings a little. You must love your daughter very much to be able to abandon her so completely.”
His words are aimed to wound, designed to cut deep. Yet my mother’s response comes icy-calm and razor-sharp.
“Oh, poor little boy. Did I hurt your feelings? Was it because I wouldn’t sit next to you in science class?” What is she doing? I think. I want to stop her, she’s only making things worse. But then I feel the light pinch in my arm signaling me she knows what she’s doing. I hope she does. “Was mommy not there to comfort you? No soothing words? No little pat on your little puppy head?”
Mastro’s mouth twitches—a flicker of his mask slipping before he quickly pulls it back into place. “That settles it,” he says with forced composure. “Your tongue ís your most deadly weapon.”
This is only the beginning of some toxic verbal free fight, and while my mother and Mastro go head to head, I suddenly notice Angel slowly wandering off. She doesn’t even look at us anymore—she has turned her back on us, her gaze fixed on the black tiles in front of her. Why? I wonder. Is she looking for something?
As if sensing she’s being watched, she abruptly looks up. She smiles, but remarkably unconvincing. She still looks beautiful and pristine, but her usual carefree expression has vanished completely. She seems to be in pain.
An unexpected surge of pity washes over me. Why is she even here? I want to walk over and hug her, but before I can do anything, my attention is yanked back to my mother and neighbor. Something my mother says—not necessarily the words, but the tone. Something is about to happen. I can feel it.
“When that day comes, Julius, everyone will know you’re a fraud and a cheat. The prediction came true years ago, didn’t it? Long before my daughter appeared on the list. That single fact makes her not the disease but the cure. And that’s why you want to kill her.”
What? I’m completely confused now. Mastro is the disease? The prophecy was about him? Not me?
Mastro drops all pretense. The honey in his voice has turned into vinegar.
“That’s what you and your sad, crippled lover figured out? Bravo.”
“No, that’s what the vice-principal and Williams figured out.” Only a slight twitch in his face betrays his frustration.
“Loyalty is so rare these days. Regretfully, I have no control over Williams, but I’m sure that he will be severely punished by his superiors. The vice-principal, however, will have to pay the full price.”
“So you don’t even deny it? You’re the one the prophecy spoke about? The one who’ll destroy the world’s balance? Your name was the one written in red letters when you were born? How did that go unnoticed? With Max, they were standing in our bedroom within half an hour!”
“Can you keep a secret, Marianne?” Mastro whispers conspiratorially. “This square is a time machine.” For the first time, I see a crack in my mother’s mental armor. “Not only did I discover it, but I’m also the only one who’s been able to use it.” For a moment, he looks like a small boy, waiting for a compliment from a mother who will never give it.
“You went back in time to alter the list? That’s cheating, Julius. Didn’t your mother teach you that cheating is wrong?” Tjesis. She’s just like me—never backing down, always headfirst into the wall.
“Leave my mother out of this, Marianne,” Mastro hisses. “And as for the cheating—do you have any idea how infinitely difficult it is to alter a list as ancient and magical as this one? And to do it without anyone noticing? It’s an achievement of near-mythical proportions. But, once I succeeded, I had free rein. I could finally plan my revenge on a world that knows only how to transform ignorance into cruelty and violence. A world that rejected my mother time and again, even when she was sick and dying. A repulsive world that forced us to wander through rain and hail. No stable with a crib full of straw for us. No three wise men from the East bearing gifts of gold and myrrh. For us, there was only hunger, sickness, grief, and death.”
The silence that falls after these last words is so intense that I can hear Mastro’s and my mother’s breathing pump in and out of their lungs. The only other sound is Angel, shuffling farther and farther away.
“Yes,” Mastro sighs. “I wanted revenge, and to achieve that, I had to alter the list. It took years of my life. But when I succeeded, I had nothing to fear—that is... until, sixteen years ago, a new name set the list ablaze. A green name.” He points at me. “Her name. Its appearance so powerful and unprecedented that Kwant raised the alarm immediately. Convinced the centuries-old predictions had finally come true, he and the rest of The Guilt followed protocol and set out to neutralize the threat—your daughter.” He pauses, his voice softening. “But I didn’t want that. I couldn’t let her die. I wanted to know what had happened. Two names in thirty years? Two prophecies? My insatiable hunger for knowledge wouldn’t allow me to let this mystery end prematurely. I had to know what was going on. I had to study it... her. It was a unique opportunity to learn something new about Egalpezo—something I’d never even read about in all of my books. That’s why I was the one who saved your daughter’s life.”
My mother scoffs. “To kill her yourself once you’d lost interest, Julius? How kind of you. I hope all this studying has been worth it. I hope you’ve found your precious answers.”
“Well… I have to admit, it took much longer than I expected to uncover the underlying principle. But to be fair, sometimes the answers are so simple that you can’t see them, even when they’re right in front of you. Only a few weeks ago did I finally recognize the truth behind it all: The Guilt has been wrong all these centuries. We’ve been so preoccupied with balancing good and evil throughout history that we completely missed the obvious: The Balance has a way of correcting itself. When a powerful name arises, another will eventually emerge to counteract it, though it may take some time. We simply didn’t allow it the opportunity to do so. By altering the list and preventing The Guild from intervening, I unintentionally enabled nature to take its course. After my red name, a green name appeared on the list with so much power it almost destroyed it–her name.
Obviously, this posed a threat to my plan. Still, I decided to let things play out. Perhaps I was overconfident and arrogant, but your daughter turned out to be, frankly... so untalented—mediocre at best—that I couldn’t fathom how she could ever be considered a counterbalance to me. Time and again, I convinced The Guilt to leave her alone so I could observe her. For the greater good, I told them repeatedly. There was only one person I couldn’t convince—you. You disappeared the night we raided your bedroom, going completely off the grid. Some of us thought you were dead. Well... clearly, you’re not. And I only recently discovered that you’ve been busy, slowly turning other members of The Guilt against me. I have to say, the fact that I didn’t notice is impressive.”
For a moment everything is silent. Even the sound of Angel’s shuffling feet has stopped.
“And here we are. Although, only one of us is truly here, of course,” he continues in a low voice. “And I have to admit, that was something I didn’t see coming. I thought I had everything under control. But tonight, when your daughter escaped from my library—body and all—the situation became much more interesting... and far more dangerous.” Suddenly, he turns to me. “That she, of all people, turned out to be capable of this was a complete surprise. I never would have suspected that such a mediocre student could become a fully realized ‘Key’. Even I am not.”
That does it. Enough of the insults. I can’t help myself—I speak before I think.
“Well, that makes you quite a spectacular disappointment too, doesn’t it?" Mastro only snickers.
"Dear Max, it really isn’t personal. I kind of like you. Angel is even fond of you. But I can’t tolerate your existence any longer. I should have done this much earlier.”