The Magician's Vow: A Retelling of The Pied Piper of Hamelin

Part III - Chapter XXVII: Redemption & Revelations

The church was just as it had been when he had left it last. Warm, thick, and peaceful. A haven against the bitter autumn wind that howled just outside the heavy doors and mosaic windows.

Eugene sat in the front pew, his eyes fixed upon the the cross that hung on the wall in the middle of the stage. The candle light turned the wood orange and the cracks a deep red. Crimson like the blood that people said had once run down its length.

He needed time away from everything. Even his home, as immaculate as it was, felt dirty and cold, pressing in on every side the moment he walked in. There was no other place he knew of. The Montgomery’s home was out of the question and Charlie’s location was unknown. 

But the peace of the church had stayed with Eugene since his last visit. He knew he would be welcomed here, at least by the candles and carvings.

The soft creak of a floorboard stole Eugene’s breath. He turned around to see the priest standing near the back, his face soft and his eyes gentle. 

He turned back towards the platform. “I thought I was alone.”

More creaking and the priest was in his sight. He walked up the stairs and began replacing the burnt out candles with fresh ones kept in cupboards under the tables. 

“You are never alone,” he said matter-of-factually, his back to the magician.

Eugene glanced around the small church. “Don’t you ever leave this place? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Why should I ever feel the need to leave? This is where I feel closest to God. That is all I need.”

He turned to look at Eugene, a lit candle in his hands. “How is your reading going?”

Eugene frowned. “Reading?”

“The book I gave you to read.”

“Oh, that.” Eugene reached into his coat pocket and drew it out. Only twice had he opened it and read the words inside, but both times had been late at night and it had kept him up until dawn. After the second time, he had forsaken it. But the dark, ever-warm leather was comforting and he found himself always wanting it nearby. A strange comfort despite his annoyance with the contents. 

He dropped the small book onto the bench beside him and scowled. “I have no time for such stories. Tales of demons being summoned forth from men. Fables of mortals walking on water and turning a simple meal into a banquet for thousands. They are fairytales for the young and the sick, stories to make them feel special, feel cared for. They are amusing, I must say, but, told as fact, they make the author seem like a madman.”

The priest sighed and slowly came down the steps. He took a chair hidden in the shadows of a corner and dragged it to “So you’ve read some at least. What makes you so resistant to such stories? Have you not ever witnessed something so miraculous, that it seems that only magic could have performed it?”

Eugene sucked in a breath. He glanced at the priest out of the corner of his eye. “Magic?” 

The magician smiled gently. “Well, magic is such a general term...in the book, the strange events are referred to as miracles, which is a slightly less controversial and frightening term than plain ‘magic’.”

Eugene chuckled but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. Even his mouth didn’t curl into a joyless grin. “I don’t believe there is anything ‘plain’ about magic.”

The amusement lacking in Eugene’s expression was clear in that of the priest’s. “Yes, but I believe it all depends on how it is used, for good or for evil. When something is done for the good of another, the path, although narrow, is clear and free of fog. But with evil, the path, although wide, is murky... What does your path look like, Eugene?”