Marcus stretched out his hand, and the air’s fabric ripped open, so I could see above and beyond the abyss and peer into the City of Light as if it were but a few feet away. People laughed, greeted each other, embraced, conversed with animated expressions. I kept hearing the word “Yes!” It struck me as strange, as I’d always believed if there was a heaven it was a place of naysayers.

I sensed their thoughts, not because I was a mind reader, but because they were mind projectors, with thoughts so powerful their bodies couldn’t hold them. I sensed no suffering, but clearly discerned the fruits of suffering they had once endured, like ripples in a lake moving outward in concentric circles, growing larger all the time, never dissipating. In the abyss I sensed no fruit of suffering—only suffering itself.

In Charis I saw citizens busily working, learning, and exploring, overflowing with the joy of discovery. They seemed immersed in delight.

Yes, I knew it was Charis I longed for. Who but a fool would not long for it? But how did those people get there? Surely they couldn’t have crossed the chasm!

I heard another blood-curdling scream, then gazed back into the black hole of Erebus. I shuddered.

“Those who wish to have nothing to do with the King get their wish,” Marcus said. “But they discover too late it is not what they wished for after all.”

“How could the King allow us to go to such a horrid place?”

“If you understood his righteousness and your offenses, you would ask a different question—how could the King allow you to go anywhere else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It is you who rebelled, you who changed Thuros into Skia, you who turned the garden into Babel and made the abyss, which is but a suburb of Erebus. You wonder why the King does not love you more? The amazing thing is that he loves you at all.”

I followed his gaze back through the portal to the great gates of Charis, fortified and shut tight, impenetrable. Outside them was a giant pedestal holding an immense scroll, rolled shut. It looked as if it were made not of parchment but of thick metal. Man after man tried to open it. None succeeded.

“What is the scroll?” I asked Marcus.

“It is the ancient book that tells all things, holds all secrets, offers the only way to cross the chasm, to escape Erebus, and to enter Charis.”

My spine tingled at the words “enter Charis.” My soul felt pulled to the city as iron filings to a great magnet. I realized I had wanted many things in my life—but I’d never wanted anything so much as to enter that place. Yet it was so far away and the chasm so vast.