The Heart Of The Gate

The Cold Awakening

He woke up in a strange room. The room was cold, and everything seemed brighter than it should. He could not focus on any single spot without his eyes watering. He realized he was lying on the floor and looked down in surprise: the floor was made of fog—solid fog. He stood there, wonder in his eyes, wondering how he had gotten to this place.

The Hall of Statues

He looked around and saw only statues: winged statues, animal statues, and one imposing figure with its face covered. That statue stood taller than the rest, a glowing nimbus in each hand. He wondered how he knew it was a “he,” then dismissed the thought and looked about again.

The Transparent Body

He saw a table with a large book on it and thought it would be the first place to look for answers about where he was. He made his way to the table on shaky legs. As he walked, he looked down at himself and saw that he was glowing—transparent and pale as a sheet. There was a large hole where his heart should have been. He wondered what was going on.

The Book of Judgement

He reached the table and read the title of the book. He took a step back; if he had still had a heart, he thought it would have stopped. He squinted to read the title again: “THE BOOK OF JUDGEMENT.”

“What is going on here? How am I here? This must be some ridiculous dream,” he thought. The Book of Judgement. He tried to open it, but he could not; the pages seemed fused together. He struggled, but all his efforts failed.

The Mysterious Stranger

“That is not how it is opened, Ryan,” a voice said behind him.

He startled and turned. Standing not far away was a young-looking man, though his eyes held an ancient weight. Ryan knew at once that the youthful appearance was only an illusion.

“Who are you?”

“That is not how the book is opened,” the man repeated.

“How do you know my name?” Ryan asked.

“I know everything about you, Ryan.”

“Where am I?”

“Don’t you know?” the man asked.

The Way Upward

Ryan could only shake his head.

“Well, that is not my place to tell. You can go up there,” the man said, pointing to a staircase that had not been there a moment before but appeared as he gestured. “What is up there?” Ryan asked, not moving.

“Answers,” the man said. “And if you want to open that book, just say the words ‘MY SINS.’”

Ryan turned to look at the book. When he turned back, the man was gone.

The Guardian of the Stairs

Ryan hesitated, torn between opening the book and seeking answers above. He wanted to know his sins, but in the end he chose the stairs. As he approached, he felt the huge hooded figure staring at him. It was as if it could see every atom of his transparent body. A shiver ran through him; he wondered why a body without substance could still feel cold.

At the foot of the stairs, which disappeared into fog above, a voice spoke before he could take the first step.

“This is the Keeper of the Stairs. Who are you, and what do you seek?”

“Answers,” Ryan said, swallowing hard.

“What answers?”

“To know why I am here and what brought me here.”

“Then pay the price before you ascend.”

“What price?” Ryan asked, uneasy at bargaining with an unseen voice.

“A lock of your hair.”

Ryan exhaled in relief—easy enough, since he had nothing else. But when he reached for his head, his fingers passed through. He struggled until the voice sighed.

“Place your head on the first step. It will do the rest.”

He obeyed. A cold breeze numbed him further, and he watched a single lock of hair drift away on a wind he could not feel.

The Infinite Ascent

He began to climb. Soon he discovered the stairs reset every ten minutes. If he had not climbed far enough, he found himself back at the bottom. It became a race against his own weakening strength. He had no idea how long he climbed—perhaps three days in earthly time—before he finally reached the top.

There he found only two chairs made of solid fog, facing each other. He stood uncertainly. Then a heavy, cold presence filled the air. His empty chest seemed to pound. Overwhelmed, he fell to his knees, weeping for forgiveness before a power he felt unworthy to face.

The Fatherly Figure

A glowing light appeared above one chair. It slowly took the shape of a tall man dressed all in white, with white hair and silver eyes that glowed and twinkled as he smiled.

“Come and have a seat, Ryan,” the man said gently.

“I’m not worthy to sit with you,” Ryan said, still bowed.

“Don’t worry. Come sit with me. You want answers, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then come. Let us talk.”

Ryan rose and shuffled to the chair. When he touched the armrest, the cold made him snatch his hand back.

“It won’t hurt you,” the man assured him.

Ryan sat and fidgeted.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, eyes lowered.

“Do you know who I am?”

Ryan nodded.

“Good. That saves some explaining.”

The Truth of the Accident

“You are here because you are dead.”

“What?” Ryan exclaimed. “Me? Dead? How?”

“You died in an accident that tore your heart from your body. That is why you have no heart here, at the Gate of Two Crossroads.”

“Gate of Two Crossroads?”

“Yes. It is the place where we decide if a soul is worthy to return or must move on.”

Ryan fell silent.

“You are too young, and your time was not finished. In life you put others before yourself. Even in the accident that killed you, you shielded a baby.”

Memory flooded back. He had been on a road trip when a truck loaded with iron rods struck their car. He had seen one rod falling toward a child and thrown himself in its path. His hand moved to the hole in his chest.

The Devil’s Key

“Yes,” the man said, watching. “That is what killed you. You have a good heart, and the Devil wants it. A truly good heart fuels his power and weakens the wards of his prison. Those wards have been failing for a thousand years.”

“Why not seal them again?” Ryan asked.

The man gave a rueful laugh. “It is not so simple. Long ago the world was a battleground between gods. I fought when my forces could not match the Devil’s. The war nearly destroyed everything. It was never recorded, so humanity would not be tempted to repeat it.”

“What caused it?”

“You would not believe me,” the man said sadly. “Simple dominance. The Devil wanted Earth as his plaything. In the end we banished him with a powerful ward. But its creators added a clause: after a thousand years, a good man’s heart could free him, believing he might feel remorse. They were wrong. A good heart like yours would only give him the strength to break free.”

The Technicality of Death

“But I’m dead,” Ryan said.

“Is that so?” the man said with a grin. “Then I suppose all is lost.”

“You said I was.”

“Technically, yes.”

“Then hope is gone.”

“Not quite. You are too young, and I will not accept you—nor let the Devil take your heart.”

Memories of the Living

Ryan thought of those he had left: little Tasha who loved his cookies, old man Blink who relied on his help.

“See? A truly good heart. I cannot take you.”

A Heavy Solution

“So what is the solution?”

The man sighed. “Another must take your place.”

“Who?”

“Do not worry about that.” The man held out a golden chain. “Take this.”

The Golden Reminder

“What is it for?”

“A reminder—to you and to me—that your time is not yet come. No one can take you while you wear it. Never remove it, no matter what.”

“I will do as you say,” Ryan said. He took the chain and fastened it around his neck.

In The Morgue

Two morticians washed the body. The woman, in her late thirties, grieved quietly for the promising young man; this death struck her deeply. She prayed his family would find comfort and solace.

The older man grinned as he worked, amused by the gaping wound. “Serves him right,” he thought. “Thought he’d stay young forever. Universe got him good.” He was bitter at missing his dice game for this duty.

The Great Exchange

They worked in silence until the body shuddered and shook violently. The gaping hole in the chest began to knit closed. A golden light flared at the neck as a chain formed.

When the young man sat up gasping, the older mortician clutched his chest, collapsed, and died on the spot—his blackened heart traded for the good one the universe needed to strengthen the Devil’s prison.

The Law of Balance

The ancient rule was simple: a good heart could free the Devil; a bad heart would reinforce his bonds. By swapping fates, the man above had bent the rules at the cost of a life not yet due. There would be consequences, but he was ready to face them when the time came.