Redemption of Eva

Archives for January 2026

Tree of Knowledge

by

    The Narrow Way stretched to the horizon as Eva walked, her hand tucked in Perry’s.  A warm breeze stirred the air, carrying the earthy scent of ripened grain.  A nightingale sang nearby—a rich, fluid tapestry of gurgles, trills, and whistles.

    To her surprise, the lands of Beelzebub stretched beyond the Wicket Gate.  A stone wall flanked the path, dividing it from an orchard—but whether it was meant to keep pilgrims out, or to protect them, Eva couldn’t tell.

    Heavy boughs of small, pale, lustrous fruit spilled over the wall here and there.  She recognized it.  Nobles in Carnal Policy were fond of it—though she doubted any of them truly knew what it was.  The game was to see how much one could eat before falling ill.  Some of the stories she’d heard couldn’t possibly be true.  That much would surely kill a man.

    But she knew.  When she needed solitude—to think, to mourn a love that never was—she’d sit on the ferry landing, toes trailing in the River of Confusion, gazing at the ancient tree in the distance.  The Tree of Knowledge.  Its roots gripped the swirling waters, and it rose far above all others.  But the fruit was the same.

    She recognized it at once.  She’d read about it in one of the books she’d stolen from the chapel in the Dark-Lands.  Or was it from a wager she’d won with the vicar’s son?  It had been a long time ago.

    She reached toward the fruit—but her eyes caught Perry’s.  “The misery this fruit has brought into the world,” she murmured.

    Perry’s eyes flickered, and his jaw tightened—just slightly.  But he said nothing.  Made no move to stop her.

    She plucked the nearest fruit, her hand trembling slightly.  “Such a simple matter,” she murmured, turning it over in her hands.  “And yet…”

    She lifted her gaze and met Perry’s eyes.  Was he the man she believed him to be?  She held the fruit out.  “If I gave this to you… would you eat it?”

    “No,” he said, without glancing at the fruit—his gaze never leaving her.  His eyes told her he knew exactly what it was.

   “If I ate it?” she asked, raising it to her lips, which parted slightly.  “Would you follow me into ruin?”

   “No,” he repeated—calmly, but his expression flickered with pain.

    “He showed great love,” she said.  “Adam,” she clarified.  “He knew he was incomplete—and chose to be damned with her rather than left alone.”  

    Perry nodded slowly.  

    Eva let the fruit fall from her hand and exhaled.  “But you are not Adam,” She paused. “You’re something more.”  Bitterness curled in her chest.  Why had she tested him?

   “And I am not Eve,” she said quietly.  “I know what she didn’t—what she couldn’t.”  She swallowed hard.  

    “The pleasure that goes with it—but the guilt afterward.  Sweet, innocent Eve couldn’t have known.  That wasn’t love.”

    Eva forced herself to meet Perry’s gaze.  “I know because I’ve eaten the fruit.”  What will you do with me now?  The question stayed on her tongue, unspoken.

    Perry’s gaze was steady, warm.  “If the Prince doesn’t condemn you… how could I?”

   Then he extended his hand.  “Come, my dearest, the Interpreter’s House awaits.”

The Gatekeeper

by

    Perry stopped before the small gate.  A wooden plaque hung above it, carved with the words:  Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.  Eva stepped forward and knocked—once, soft but sure.  The same knock she’d used on his door the night before.

    She stood silently before the gate, waiting—but didn’t knock again.  Not even a flicker of impatience touched her face.

    At last, the gatekeeper opened the door.  He wore the plain garb of a gardener.  His expression was grave, but not unkind.  “Who is it?” he asked.  “Where do you come from?  Why have you come?”

    Eva’s eyes burned with an intensity Perry had never seen.  “I am Evadne,” she said.  Then, more softly, her gaze met the gatekeeper’s.  “Eva.”

    “I come from the City of Destruction.  There, I was known as Madame Wanton.  But I was not made for that place.”

    She withdrew her invitation from her dress and placed it in the gatekeeper’s hands.  “I’ve kept it for years—wondering.”  Her voice trembled slightly.  “The seal was broken.  The writing, smudged.  But I intend to place it in His hands myself—and ask if it was truly meant for me.”

    The gatekeeper turned the invitation over in his hands, then returned it to her.  “There was never any doubt.”  He extended his hand.  “Welcome, Eva.”  She placed her hand in his.

   “You’ve brought someone with you,” he said, turning to Perry.  His eyes were bright.

   “Yes,” she said.  “This is Peregrine Graycloak.  He walks with me.”  A flicker of pain crossed her face.  “I don’t want to walk alone.”

    The gatekeeper led them through and shut the door behind them.  Ahead, a narrow path stretched straight to the horizon—neither veering left nor right.  “Not far now, and you’ll come to the Interpreter’s House,” he said.  “Inquire there, and He will instruct you.”

   “But first, Peregrine,” he said, “you are hungry.  Come and eat.”  He led them into a summer parlor, where cushions were laid out beside a low table, and the scent of fresh-baked bread filled the air.

    Perry glanced down at the mud caked on his cloak and trousers.

    “You’ve passed through the Slough,” the gatekeeper said, then waved them toward the cushions.  “Tell me—did you not see the stepping-stones?”

    “We did,” Perry said.  “But the stones were sunk in the mire, and mud trembled around them.  But she counted it but a small hazard.”  He glanced at Eva and smiled.  “She took off her shoes and stepped in.”

    “I’ve rarely seen such faith!” the gatekeeper exclaimed.

    He took the bread, gave thanks, broke it, and handed it to Perry.  Perry’s heart burned in him.  He blinked—then stared.  The hands.  Scarred.  The Prince.  And he hadn’t recognized Him.  But Eva had.  He remembered the look in her eyes.

    “Allow me, my lady,” said the Prince, turning to Eva.  He took a pitcher of water, a basin, and a towel—and knelt at her feet.

    “My Lord,” Eva whispered, “I am not worthy.”  Still, she removed her shoes and extended one foot into the basin.  The Prince poured water from the pitcher, washing away the mire of the Slough.  He dried it gently with the towel, then took her other foot in His hands.

    He looked up at Perry, gaze steady.  “Let this be an example,” He said.  “Love your bride, as I have loved the church.”

    Eva started.  Her eyes glistened, and her foot trembled in His hands.  When He finished, He met her eyes.  “You are clean, my daughter,” He said.

    After they had eaten together, the Prince blessed them and sent them on their way.

    Eva took Perry’s hand in hers and exhaled softly.  “I am clean.”