EPILOGUE

Suddenly I stand before the Scale.

Judgment has been passed. There are no beautiful chimes to welcome me into paradise. A forsaken wail echoes through the ancient structure. The left door and the burning light await me. The tall Caretaker in the red robe with the searing grip takes hold of my left arm, ready to drag me through the door from which no one ever returns, unless I agree to do his bidding. All this I recognize. All this is as it was before.

The devil gives his speech about me being damned and how horrible it will be to burn. But just when he’s talked me into a state of total despair, he offers me a deal. Kill the Light Bearer and you will have a respite from the agony that awaits you. In my fear I offer my right hand and accept his deal.

Then I realize I’m holding down the left plate. That I unconsciously pushed it down after the invisible force released my hands, while the Scale was still bobbing up and down. Guilt caused me to do it. It’s like I felt the pain of every single person I hurt during the thousands of years I walked the earth.

Yet suddenly I am able to let go of the guilt, and when I do, I remove my thumb from the edge of the left plate, and its right counterpart, loaded with diamonds, sinks down.

Delicious chimes fill the air. The crowd sighs with relief.

My own relief could fill the sky. I weep with joy.

The red-hooded Caretaker releases my left arm.

“Almost, Sita,” he whispers. “Almost.”

I smile. “Go to hell,” I say.

A white-hooded Caretaker takes me by the arm and leads me toward the door on the right from where the golden light emanates. Before I leave the room and the others waiting to be judged, the mysterious woman reaches from the crowd and our fingers touch.

“Will I see you soon?” I ask.

She smiles and in that moment I almost know her name.

“Of course,” she says.

My Caretaker leads me to the door on the right and I enter the golden light. The change I feel in that instant fills me with wonder. Suddenly I’m no longer bathing in the light, I feel as if it enters me and I become one with it.

Once again, I pass through a long tunnel. I assume I’m still walking but at the same time I glide along without effort. The tunnel is neither big nor small, it’s just the right size, and as I sweep through it I see different colored caves. Some give off a white light that fills me with amazement. Others shine with a green glow that reminds me of everyone I ever loved in life. Still other tunnels radiate a combination of colors and I know it is to these realms the majority of people are drawn. Yet I see no one along the way, and I know that’s because I have yet to reach the place where I belong.

Finally I come to a tunnel filled with an intoxicating blue light.

As I turn into it, I feel my feet and legs return and I recognize the body that carried me through my journey on earth. Suddenly I’m wearing a blue gown with a yellow sash tied at my waist. Around my neck is a gold chain, which holds a single indigo-colored jewel.

It reminds me of the famed Kaustubha gem Krishna often wore on earth but it is a darker hue. The jewel hangs above my heart and seems to emit an energy that fills every cell in my body with joy.

The tunnel ends in an ordinary door with a domed top.

A man not much taller than myself, with long black hair, stands to the side of the door. He wears loose-fitting gold trousers and an open saffron shirt. His chest muscles are smooth and strong, his smile inscrutable, his blue eyes as bewitching as a night sky filled with a galaxy of newborn stars. The sight of him sends a thrill through my heart but I hesitate to let myself accept who he is. He stares at me with such love, and yet a part of me, a small childish part, feels afraid, or unworthy.

I hesitate. “My Lord?”

He nods. “Sita.”

My name, he has said my name, and my doubt lessens. Yet I begin to weep and don’t know why. I couldn’t be happier, however, I feel sad, too, consumed with sorrow. Both emotions feel very old. He reaches out and strokes my hair.

“Welcome home, Sita.”

“Lord,” I say, struggling to find the words to explain my confusion. “Do I really belong here?” I ask.

He gives a faint smile, he has the most seductive lips. “The choice is yours. You feel there’s much you still have to do to atone for those you hurt. But there comes a time when even the last vampire is permitted to leave the world to its own destiny.”

“But I did leave so much undone,” I say, wiping at my tears. “I just changed Teri into a vampire. She’ll need my guidance. And Matt and Paula and Seymour are left to face the Telar and the IIC. It doesn’t feel right that I should get to enter paradise while they struggle against such evil.”

“That evil is finished. You already defeated it.”

His words make no sense. Or maybe they do and it’s my memory that’s at fault. For as I move closer and stare at his face, I catch glimpses of myself linking minds with a bunch of disturbed children as I psychically try to hunt down Haru and his followers. I also see images of a pretty woman more than twice my age, who possesses more wisdom than anyone I have ever met, except for Krishna.

I realize it is the woman I met on the banks of the river.

The one who bid me farewell after I passed the Scale.

“Umara,” I say aloud.

“She waits for you inside.”

“But I don’t know her. I never met her.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

Three simple words but they feel as if they unlock a whirlwind inside of me. Especially as I focus more tightly on Krishna’s eyes. As I gaze into them, I feel as if I lift into the air and exchange positions with him. Now I see through his eyes, and see myself, and all the things I still want to do.

If I decide to return to earth.

I realize it is Krishna who is making me the offer to extend my life. Not that demon in the red robe. However, even though I see with his eyes, not all of my confusion vanishes. For they are so mesmerizing, their blue so deep and dark, they seem to gaze in all directions at once. The past and the future have no meaning to him. They are linear, he is infinite.

But they still have meaning to me. The simple remembrance causes me to shift positions again, and once more I find myself back in my body, wondering if I really want to ask if I should go back or not. To leave him feels like an impossibility.

Before I can speak the question aloud, Krishna smiles.

“It matters not, Sita. Stay or go, you will always be with me.”

His words heal my last shred of doubt.

I have faith. It doesn’t matter what I decide.