THERE WAS, BEFORE THEM TWO, Wisdom personified: the illustrious and ethereal image of a woman dressed in a scarlet tunic and a sky-blue cloak, a creature with an angelic face and immeasurable beauty, born of human hope. She levitated a few meters above the ground, in the middle of the room, and a light breeze rippled her rich robes. A warm, snow-white light emanated from her hair. Her eyes were the color of the morning sky. Her body was translucent, like a hologram: through her, one could see the enormous columns erected at the temple's entrance. And she smiled at them with such sweetness that neither of them could prevent tears from flowing from their eyes. She was the most beautiful being that could exist on Earth. Just being in her presence was enough to experience an incredible feeling of peace and well-being.
Soon, they began to hear a sweet melody coming from all around. Hypnotic, it divided into others, composed of harmonic tones. The music was lively, and the harpsichords became little fairies moving through the infinite space, whispering mathematical formulas of perfect rhythms. An iridescent shower of golden corpuscles fell upon the immaculate figure of the woman.
Then a soft, velvety voice was heard, like the song of an angel at the gates of heaven. And the woman asked:
Who am I?
Gregory Evans looked around, waiting for someone to answer, but he was alone in the Throne Chamber. Geovanna and the guardians had disappeared. He realized he was on another plane of reality and that this was a test he alone should face, no one else. He would have to solve a second riddle to gain access to the lodge's hidden knowledge and inherit the name of Hiram Abif. He just had to answer correctly. He ventured the answer that seemed most reasonable.
You are Wisdom.
The woman's spirit stirred, and he saw grief and consternation in her eyes. He thought he had made a mistake. It was obvious from the ethereal being's reaction.
She insisted a second time.
Who am I?
Much more cautious, the detective reflected for a few minutes. He didn't want to make another mistake. He was undecided between the Hand of Nature and the Virgin Mary, due to her appearance — the information he had about Marian apparitions suggested as much, but in truth, neither option inspired complete confidence. He sensed the question had a double meaning. There was something more, a subtle detail hidden behind the words, a secret so obvious he could never see it, even if it were right in front of him.
Still, he bet on one of the answers that was taking over his brain — the one that had actually led him there.
You are the Mother of Nature.
The woman became sad again and nearly evaporated into thousands of luminous fragments. Evans, terrified, begged for her to stay in the room, murmuring a prayer. He wished for another chance, even if it were his last. And it seemed someone had heard his prayer, for the woman spoke a third time.
Who am I?
He tried to relax. He was too tense to think clearly. Remaining on the Throne depended on the answer, he had already assimilated that, but he didn't know how it would affect his relationship with Geovanna.
What a shitty relationship they would have from then on...
He was afraid of losing Alissa forever... Geovanna would always be part of his past, nothing more, nothing less...
Greg feared the same thing that had happened to Umbert Monroe would happen to him. Losing Alissa didn't fit into the pact he'd made with Balkis, because Geovanna had already been lost many years ago. Even though it wasn't too late to get her back, it was too late for him... He had to overcome the test at any cost and regain his former life.
He racked his brain, trying to find a solution to the enigma. He returned to the idea that the initiation rite held a secret and that the words must have another meaning. It was like one of those trick questions, the answer to which is already implicit.
And the question was:
Who should answer, himself or the woman?
The questioner could cast doubt on both of them.
Who am I?
Would this, by any chance, be a new examination of conscience?
Gregory Evans gazed, entranced, at the unparalleled beauty of that face, which seemed both familiar and uplifting. She, in turn, watched expectantly, hoping he might recognize her among the other sacred and pagan deities. And in that moment, she remembered where she was and what she had come to do.