He who enacts justice

"I've come to meet him."

"The one who brings justice."

"Yes."

"What do you wish of the one who brings justice ?"

"That is between me and him."

"Why?"

"It's something only he can see."

"Acknowledge not the evil but perceive all. You are aware of that?"

"Of course."

"Then if your wish is evil?"

"I shall no longer be perceived."

"You'll inhabit oblivion all alone."

"I'm prepared."

"Then enter, foolish be or brave matters not now, for the end is the same."

The solemn young man ambled past the guard into a sandy dim hallway. He ambled for a distance before standing before a monstrous wooden gate of stone. The wind around the gate was wild, it changed direction and speed at random moments in time causing sand grains to wash over his face and body. It smelled of something nostalgic. Something very primitive, very earthly. But all those senses were absent from the young man. The sense of smell, sight, taste, hearing. It is why he came here, the place to replace.

The door before him was giant, but only took a soft push to open. Physical limitations had no hold here. It is why he came here.

As he passed the threshold of entry his past disappeared. Behind and in front of him was only emptiness. Beneath and above no more. All that was physical had taken leave. His sight and his blindness. His hearing and his deafness. It is why he came here.

A figure forms. It didn't. It was back there and here. And it wasn't. It didn't matter. It spoke.

"I, the one who brings justice, you, the venturer." It spoke with the voice of a weathering old man. It was a kind voice. One in stark contrast to the absence of identity characterized by this place.

"Yes."

"Acknowledge not the evil but perceive all. Do you consent? Do not answer now. Only when you have fully surrendered to it. Lies are evil."

".....Yes." The young man replied, 5 years later, or perhaps 5 seconds later. Both were the same. Linearity of time is but an illusion in this place, one easily swept through.

"Ready we are then. State your wish."

"I wish for your death."

"Acknowledge not the evil. Are you sure of your wish?"

"Yes."

"Then your reasoning to not be declared evil."

"For justice to return."

"Justice is me."

"Here, not there. I wish for justice there."

"Here is perfect. There is imperfect. You cannot have justice there."

"Then whichever is closest to justice there."

"There, you are promised justice here. You would take that away from them? You would condemn them to eternal injustice?"

"Yes."

"....Why?"

"For visible shadow of justice is fairer than invisible true justice. If man knows to be able to attain even a shadow of justice it is better than to never be sure whether it really is there."

"You wish for assurance?"

"Only independence."

"You have stated your claim. And I accept it. I judge your claim to not be evil. You seek only what's just."

The form then conjured up a book.

"Take it." The form said.

The young man grabbed the book.

"This is the personification of your wish. It shall now be granted. Return to your world. And I shall be no more. May you find the justice you seek."

The young man then opened his eyes. They saw nothing for he was blind. He held onto the book in his hand. He could feel he was in some sort of bed that was different from his normal bed. The sheets felt like plastic and the entire area felt cold and sterile. But he could not discern what it is as he was deaf.

But it didn't matter now. He held onto his book as tightly as he possibly could. Tears of relief streamed down his face. For as long as he held onto this book, he could be sure, that within his isolated existence justice was there.

Even if a shadow, it was there. And one day, the scales of justice will even out. And all the bad will be met with good.

As long as he held onto that book.

Justice will be served.