As I rise from the big chair, a sudden worry creeps in—will I even be able to find my way back? The book maze that led us here felt impossibly complex and endless.
"Okay... um... this has been really... um... educational, sir, but I need to go now. Gran will be worried, and..."
"Of course, Max. I understand. You've been awfully kind to indulge me for this long." Right away, all my alarm bells go off. Something is off. This is way too easy. My neighbor never struck me as someone who gives up so easily.
"Alright then... it’s this way, right?" I ask cautiously, barely able to keep the suspicion out of my voice.
"It’s easier than you think, Max. The way back is always shorter than the way there." Damn, how much simpler my life would be without all those people around me spouting aphorisms and paradoxes.
Resolute, I grab a candle from its holder, mentally preparing myself for a long and uncertain journey through the maze of books. But as I reach the opening, I see the front door of the house, just a short, straight book-alleyway ahead. A strange, eerie sensation tingles beneath my skin. This is way too easy. I must be missing something. But no matter how hard I strain my eyes or listen, I neither see nor hear anything.
Don’t be ridiculous. Get on with it, I scold myself for my irrational superstition and take a step over the threshold. I wait, prepared for anything and… nothing happens. I take another step. Again… nothing. I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m going to be fine. Of course, I will. But then my neighbor says one more thing. And the only mistake I make is that I listen.
"I can’t blame you, Max. Your mother was just the same..." I look up, as if stung by a wasp. "She stormed out after just a few sentences, slamming the front door so hard that books fell from the top shelves. By now, I’m sure you know—she had quite the strong personality." I swallow hard. It’s just a bluff, I try to tell myself. But somehow, my neighbor doesn’t seem like the bluffing type, even now that he’s turned out to be raving mad. I can’t help myself. I stop.
"My mother?" He smiles.
"She was a bit older than you are now, and I was, of course, much younger. We were about the same age, actually. So it was understandable. But I had to try. I really thought she was the one."
"The one? What are you talking about?"
"Let me start from the beginning. What you’ve experienced tonight—and, in fact, your entire life—has everything to do with the foundational principle that we call Egalpezo or The Balance of the World.” I look at him with glassy eyes. “Ah, yes, sorry. Let me explain in a way your young mind can understand. You’ve probably read superhero comics, books like The Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, or watched the movies—the myths and legends of our time, centered around the universal battle between ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ The premise is simple: ‘good’ must defeat ‘evil,’ and everything will be fine. That makes sense, right?”
He watches me closely as he continues. “There’s only one problem: it’s not true. While it’s true that everything in the world moves between two poles—let’s for arguments sake call them ‘good’ and ‘evil’—it’s not true that one should win over the other. In fact, it would be a disaster if good were to defeat evil. It’s not about winning at all. It’s about maintaining the balance between the two, and believe me, that’s not easy to achieve." I don’t even know what to think. I only know that I’m still here.
"Obviously, this balance is always shifting and changing—depending on time, place, and history—always in flux. We hover slowly at a tipping point, sometimes with the weight of evil throwing the scales off balance at one end, and other times the weight of good at the opposite end. Small fluctuations correct themselves obviously, but when the equilibrium is disrupted too much or for too long, everything collapses—and I mean that quite literally. The world will end. At those moments, action is required. That's why we exist." We? I mutter involuntarily, glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting a group of shrouded priests to have appeared behind me. But no, we’re still alone. Of course we are. Don’t be stupid.
"Very early in human history, likely at the height of Egyptian civilization, a group of people–blessed with enhanced insights, wisdom, and ‘talents’ came together and formed a guild whose members were not restricted by social class, gender, or political allegiance. Rejecting all prevailing notions of 'good' and 'evil,' they operated in absolute secrecy, driven solely by their mission to interpret signs indicating potential disruptions to the world's balance."
In those early days, they were still untrained and unprepared. Many times, the world had to teeter on the brink of complete destruction before they were able to save it. Some of these events became myths and legends, like the sinking of Atlantis or Noah's flood. Others evolved into predictions about the end of the world, such as Armageddon, Ragnarök, Judgment Day, the poetic quatrains of Nostradamus and the Mayan calendar." He stops and studies my face, as if suddenly unsure of the impact of his words.
"Uh... well... Gran," I stutter, "she's really into that whole good-versus-evil thing too. You know, God and the Devil and all that. But I've never heard her say anything positive about the Devil. Probably best not to bring it up in front of her, unless you want to be buried under a mountain of proverbs warning you against it."
He laughs. "And to think, the idea of one God and one Devil is relatively new. Before they were invented, there were countless gods—good ones, evil ones, stupid ones, funny ones—all coexisting in violent but perfect harmony." He smiles, and for a moment, I recognize the neighbor who's been there for me so many times these past few months, offering refuge and a kind word. What has happened, why does he sound so, well… deranged.
“I’m fully aware that what I’m telling you sounds completely bonkers. Not very long ago, I would have been burned at the stake or hanged from the gallows if I had said this out loud, but that doesn’t make it any less true. You have to understand – and this is the most difficult part to accept – the Guild is amoral. Not without morals, mind you, quite the opposite, but the usual definitions of good and evil mean nothing to us. As I said before, only one thing matters to us: The Equilibrium. The Balance. Anyone who poses a threat to it must be eliminated or ‘compensated,’ at all costs. I’ll give you an example... the birth of Christ.”
What did he say? Did he say Christ? I try to hide my surprise behind cynicism. “It’s not Christmas yet, is it? Let me guess, the three wisemen from the east were guild-members.”.
“No Max, not the three wise men,” my neighbor laughs. “King Herod.” The taste of bile fills my mouth. I reach for the chair.
‘H-h-h-erod? But... but... he was responsible for a bloodbath.... all young babies… butchered... He was a... a... monster!’
“Yes, the tragic reality is that half of our guild members have gone down in history as... well... monsters. As the Herods and Judases, as the pope who unleashed the witch hunts, or as Lee Harvey Oswald and James Earl Ray, who sacrificed themselves by killing John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. They became the monsters of history, but to us, they are the true heroes of humanity. Jesus was a natural disaster of epic proportions that brought the world to the brink of destruction. The guild had to counterbalance all that good, by whatever horrific means. Without Herod, Pilate, and Judas, we wouldn’t exist now.
My brain short-circuits. I sink to the floor and vomit on a very old, irreplaceable book —mweeeeeuuuurggghhh— and for the first time tonight, I’m afraid, really afraid.
Who is this man I considered a friend? Is he dangerous? Is he crazy? Or worse—is he right? How did I allow myself to end up in such a vulnerable situation? My eyes drift to where the gap in the wall of books had been just moments ago. It’s gone. I should have run while I had the chance. But now? Now it’s too late.
"Maxime Kwintens, you're part of our history whether you like it or not. Without you, none of this would have happened over the past few months."
I try to get up from the floor, but my body refuses to move. Is that normal? He walks toward me calmly, lifts me with surprising ease, and places me back in the large chair.
"Seventeen years ago, I made a grave mistake. I let you live. My curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see who this prophesied destroyer of the balance was—what she could do, how much potential she had. But you turned out to be quite the disappointment. I expected you to be more powerful, more interesting. Clearly, I was wrong. You may have potential, but you're too untrained, too mediocre to be a real threat. Still you’ve succeeded in becoming quite a nuisance, so it's time to correct what I should have done seventeen years ago. You have to disappear. For good. Believe me, it's nothing personal." He moves closer. "There's just one thing…" I try to get away but I can't move or speak.
"…Your recent ability to travel to the Shadow World—Mondo Krepusko, as it's officially called—is unexpectedly well developed. I wonder… I need to know… Just let me…" His thumb inches toward my forehead, mirroring what Balthasar did earlier tonight, pressing firmly between my eyebrows. Immediately, the room full of books fades away and mist begins to creep up around my ankles.