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Adam had been so desperate to secure the Ruler’s help in rescuing Abigail, he had pushed his body to the limit in his flight to the high country. He’d envisioned himself crashing into the banquet hall, clutching the Ruler by the arm, and beseeching him to come with him to the orchard. And on the journey, he would pepper the Ruler with the stockpile of pressing questions swirling in his mind.
But now, as they strolled along the path to the cottage, all his anxieties settled behind the solemnity of the moment. Peace fell upon him as he watched the swaying treetops massage the sky in the cool breeze. As urgent as his concern for Abigail was, he sensed the Ruler could be trusted to carry that anxiety while Adam faced the momentous occasion at hand. The mysterious structure that had beckoned him since his first day in this world stood just ahead.
Adam craned his neck before the ancient structure’s towering door. It wasn’t just the size of what stood before Adam, but its magnificence that moved him to his core. It made him feel small and vulnerable, and at the same time supremely honored to have been invited to this place—and by none other than the Ruler himself.
As they approached the doors, Adam wondered how a mere man, who stood no taller than Adam, would open such a gate. He thought not even the guardian from his vision would be able to gain entry. But the Ruler laid a hand on the door and swung it on its great hinges with ease.
As they stepped in, Adam crossed the threshold into what seemed like a different world.
At first, the light blinded him, and the echo of their footsteps in the cavernous foyer sent a shiver down his spine.
As his eyes adjusted, he looked up. A series of plaques along the foyer walls detailed how all things came to be and how the half-real world became broken and lost its connection with reality.
From there the Ruler took him through the only doorway leading out of the foyer. In the next room, a decagon, each of the ten walls emitted a different color.
“These are the ten primary colors,” the Ruler explained. “Each one shows a different shade of the Father’s heart. Together they reveal what he is like—how he thinks about things, how he acts, and what he desires. There is nothing in existence more beautiful than the desires of the Father’s heart. Most of his shades are not visible in this world, but he has enabled humans to view these ten—and thousands of different shades within the ten.”
A circular fireplace heated the room from the center. Adam hadn’t noticed the chill in the corridor until they entered this room and felt its inviting warmth. A marble counter encircled the fireplace and a blue haze filled the room.
“You would do well to spend much time in this room,” the Ruler said. “The more you gaze upon these colors, the more they penetrate your heart. That’s why you are so drawn to people like Kailyn, Watson, and Abigail. Their hearts reflect these colors.”
On each of the walls hung a mirror. Adam stepped in front of the first and was startled to discover the mirror did not reflect his body, but his heart. His surprise turned to sadness when he found no trace of that wall’s color in him.
The mirror’s display of Adam’s inner being was not only visual—it reached all the senses, especially the sense of smell. A putrid stench intensified the ugliness of the image.
He moved on to the next wall, and then the next. Each mirror revealed the same repulsive ugliness—no colors. The realization that he was nothing like what he should be—nothing like the Father—set his heart racing like a criminal about to be caught. He wanted out of this room.
Humiliated, he tried to cover the ugliest parts with his hands. The moment he did so, scorching heat enveloped him from behind. The fireplace had become a raging furnace, and he smelled the hair on the back of his head being singed.
Then he caught sight of the Ruler’s reflection in the mirror. He circled the room, watching the Ruler’s reflection in each of the ten mirrors. The flood of colors proved more than Adam could handle and he dropped to his knees.
He looked again at his own reflection, and terror seeped into every crevice of his soul. Could the monster in the glass really be him—his true self?
He considered the way he had always thought about himself and the way he’d portrayed himself to people. What a lie! I’m a complete fraud. He had imagined himself to be a good man. But the mirrors revealed selfish motives, arrogant pride, ingratitude, and irreverence.
It was clear now—he had always known of the Ruler. He’d known, deep down, there had to be a Ruler, supremely good, and worthy of adoration. He had known these things and suppressed them because he wanted to live for himself. And for that—the realization fell on him like a guillotine—for that, he deserved to die.
The weight of regret and sorrow pushed him from his knees to his face, tears wetting the floor.
The sting of his guilt doubled, doubled again, and a dark wave of dread swept over him. Utterly condemned, his lungs still drew air but in the truest sense, he was dead. This room had killed him by showing him that on the inside, in the ways that matter most, he had been dead all his life.
A gaping hole opened in his chest. His hand instinctively rose to his heart but found only a cavernous void.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t stay here,” the Ruler said. “Come with me to the next room—the one I built,” he added, with a tone of satisfaction.
Unable to stand, Adam turned his head, expecting to see the Ruler’s feet. Instead, he saw his face. The great monarch had stooped to Adam’s level.
The Ruler stood, took Adam in his arms, and carried him from the room.
When they came to the door of the Ruler’s prized room, a row of towels hung from hooks on the wall alongside the door.
Adam expected this room to be the most ornate and impressive space of the entire building. But when the door opened, an overpowering stench assaulted him from inside the room. The smell of death.
Darkness shrouded the room, and Adam hesitated in the doorway. The Ruler put a firm hand on his elbow and pulled him in.
Adam slipped and fell. Something greased the floor and now covered Adam. He looked toward the doorway where light from the hall shone on the red, tacky fluid. Blood! Something had been slaughtered in this room.
After what he saw of himself in the last room, his only thought was that it should be his blood on this floor. Perhaps it would be—if he stayed much longer.
On hands and knees, Adam slipped and slid back to the door and into the hallway. The Ruler followed and closed the door to the blood room.
Adam sat against the wall in the hallway and looked up at the Ruler. “What happened in there?”
The Ruler sat on the floor next to him. His voice grew somber. “It’s my blood.”
“Your blood? What happened? Who did that to you?”
“My Father,” he said, almost whispering.
“Your ... your Father?” Adam could manage no other words.
The Ruler took one of the towels and began cleaning the blood from Adam’s arms and legs.
“But ... why? Was he angry with you?”
The Ruler dabbed some blood from Adam’s face. “No. He did it because he was angry with you.”
“With me?”
“Yes, Adam. Remember what you saw in the mirrors?”
Adam hung his head. He didn’t have to ask why the Father would be angry with him. But why had the Ruler been punished for Adam’s evil?
The Ruler seemed to have heard his unspoken question. “He punished me because the punishment you deserved was more than you could take. For justice to be done, it would have had to go on forever. You would have been sent to the lake of fire in outer darkness. I didn’t want that. I knew I could take the full punishment and recover.”
The Ruler moved in front of Adam and toweled the blood from Adam’s hands. “Look at me, Adam. I love you—more than you could ever know. So does the Father. So together we decided I would pay the debt you couldn’t pay.”
The despair of death that had enveloped Adam gave way to glimmers of hope. “So ... the Father is no longer angry with me?” he ventured, thinking it was too good to be true.
The Ruler’s answer chilled Adam to his bones. “He is furious with you. As am I. You still bear the guilt of your evil.”
Adam’s stomach pushed into his throat and he slid away from the Ruler. His heart raced. “But ... I thought you paid that debt.”
“I did, but for my sacrifice to be applied to you, you must pass through the next room.” The Ruler stood and extended his hand. Adam took it and followed him down the hallway. Their slow steps echoed in the empty corridor as they progressed to the third room.
Adam’s uncontrolled trembling shook his voice. “What’s in this one? I don’t know if I can ...”
“Don’t worry. The only thing you have to do in this room is trust me.”
Adam stopped.
The Ruler smiled. “I know—scary words. But important ones. This is the most comfortable, welcoming, rest-giving room in the house. However, many have died in here. If you want to survive it, you must trust me.”
Two padlocks and several deadbolts sealed the room. Adam lifted his eyes to the inscription above the door: If you do not stand firm in faith, you will not stand at all. The Ruler drew a set of keys from his pocket and released each of the locks. Then he threw the door open with a dramatic sweep of his hand. Adam stood in the doorway and all his apprehensions melted away.
A vast hall filled with people stretched before him. He couldn’t even see to the other side. Some relaxed on overstuffed furniture—pictures of contentment. Others slept on beds. Some busied themselves with projects—projects that were humanly impossible. One man brought a stone to life. Another carried a load that would have crushed a normal person.
Everyone looked happy.
The Ruler stepped in and opened a palm of invitation. Adam approached the threshold, then stopped. The room had no floor.
He stepped back and reexamined the activities in the room. People moved about in the normal way, as if on a solid surface.
One man didn’t seem as contented as the others. He reclined in a large easy chair but kept shifting his position and looking down at where the floor should be. Then, he stood. As his weight lifted from the chair, in a flash the Ruler appeared at his side, extending his hand. But rather than taking it, the man flailed in a fruitless attempt to steady himself, then plunged downward, screaming in free fall until he disappeared from view.
When the Ruler returned to the doorway, Adam asked, horrified. “How long will he fall?”
“Until he trusts me.”
“But what if he never trusts you?”
“Then he will fall forever,” came the grim reply. The Ruler then stepped several paces into the room. “Come. You must pass through this room.”