Silently, she stares across the open space before us, a look of expiation in her eye. "I'm sorry it has come to this."

She opens the book: A Holy Bible, it says. The paper within the binding were the only sounds echoing the library, the pages yellow with age, thin and crinkly. Clearly, a small tome passed from generation to generation. No wonder she valued it so. She turns the page once more and reads from the passage: "In the beginning, people had nothing but hatred in their hearts. Their bodies ache of their own damnation. For an eternity, they fought, but death never came to their aid. They despaired, realizing their own demise.

"Not much different then as it is today, is it?" she comments, her voice changes into a lithe tone and a small smile appears on her face.

"Not really," I admit, finally feeling somewhat comfortable around this woman with a child-like personality, yet still on my guard. She can't hurt me, I decide. She doesn't want to. She doesn't even know half of what she's talking about. I shouldn't be afraid of her or her words. It's all for show. Or maybe it's just the way she is: calm first, venal the next, as if she doesn't know what she is or what she wants to be. Maybe that's what the Caretaker meant; moments lapse of remembrance and forgetfulness all in a single day only for the Darkness to come and reconstruct all you know. Isn't that the definition of madness?

"There is hope," she said, "there's always hope in religion. That's how it's always been. First chaos, then salvation."

I snort. I'm not one to believe in religion. I gave that up long ago, though I don't want her to understand that completely, even if she can't understand it at all. If Bra-san was right about her, there's more to Kama-san than meets the eye. And I'm not one to test my waters with her just yet, especially when she nearly killed us to get to the library in the first place. She's too unstable to think coherently.

She continues to read, turning the page. On one page, there was a man holding a thin, bloody snake and on the other page, a woman holding a burning stick; in between them, an individual in a red gown that flows behind them. "A man skinned a serpent and offered it to the void. A woman burned a reed and offered it to the sun. From the dust of their bones, god was born."

She turns the page; the deity in the crimson gown stretching out its hand. Light and darkness overcome the other side of the page, "out of pity, god created the land, the sea and all the animals. God made time and divided it into day and night."

Another page, the people happy and dancing; "god outlined the road to salvation in a tome she kept hidden from the people, giving purpose to their livelihood."

Once more, another turn of the page; a man growing from infancy to a pile of bones; each page looks exactly like the one-dimensional murals in Egypt, dosed in vibrant color, "and god took away eternity and made it her own." She said.

"God created beings to lead people in obedience to her…"

Wait, what?

"Shouldn't it say goddess?" I interrupt.

"No. God."

"But you just created a different god; a female. It doesn't make any sense."

Jounouchi shook his head, "this is not the same god as the Judea/Christian believes. In this world, He doesn't exist. This is a world where a woman becomes both Mother Earth and divinity. We're talking about the Rimmons and the Rundrans. In this place, women were held to a higher standard than men. So it's understandable to have a female god."

"But it still should say goddess," I argue, annoyed that the correct term was not used here. If you are feeding kids this bullshit, then do it right!

Kama-san raises a brow, "are you done with your etymology? I hate being interrupted, even if you don't believe." When I didn't respond – feeling like she read me as easily as the book she was holding – she continues, turning another page filled with three horrifying creatures on one side and angels and other deities on the other. "The Destroyer, Pluscia. The Truthsayer, Curandero; many beautiful and dark gods and angels."

I didn't dare comment that one of those "angels" look almost like Yugi. And as I look close, I could almost see Son Goku and Vegeta-san there too. I felt a shiver run up my spine. This manor, this place…it doesn't sound flaky anymore. It sounds – no, it feels too real. What does Arianna have to do with all this? I look to Jounouchi, who seems just as concentrated as I was. Are you just playing the part? Do you know what's going on? Or are you just as confused as I am?

Another page; the deity on the ground, turning into a rose as the people around her were crying, "finally, god set out to create paradise where people can enjoy the fruits of her work just by being there. But at the start of her creation, god's strength ran out and she collapsed."

"What a shitty god," I mumble.

"Kaiba," Jounouchi sneered.

"All the world's people grieved this unfortunate event, yet god breathed her last. She returned to the dust, promising to come again." She closes the book and sighs happily, "what a lovely story."

"What's the use in telling me this?" I ask, impatient. I didn't trust this woman's childish antics anymore. Bulla-san was right: the turn of events proved that much. It was as if she wanted us to be here; to retrieve the book she was forbidden to show. Her story didn't make much sense. None of this made any logical sense at all. This religious stuff about the Revival doesn't sound real to me; a story of happiness and joy and redemption for the Revival? It sounds like a farce from the honest thing.

And yet, I believe it. Every word of it.

"I don't believe any of this," I tell her with conviction. "Why tell me this if I don't believe? What does this have to do with her, anyway?"

"Not just her," she says, "but her clan as well. And mine." She hands me a small picture that was wedged between the pages, "our god has returned."

I look at the photo, recognizing the person, and said, "that's your god?" She stares back at me, her blue hair flown in waves about her back. Her sapphire eyes stare daintily behind her. Her curvy frame looks beautiful in her small white peasant dress. I knew then, that however Arianna's – and now this young woman in the picture – role plays in this, it will end in death. "But that's impossible. That's Gwinna."

"Yes!"

"What does that have to do…?"

"She's the likeness of the devil: The Darkness that consumes this land. She's the reason why we are all here in this hell. Our new world! And she is waiting. We are all waiting." Kama-san stretches out her arm, a smile plaster on her pale face as she laughs – a light, mechanical laugh, "the gods of this world will return. If they return for good, this world will be renewed. If they return for evil, the world will be destroyed and Xibalba will be ours forever."

I look around the decrepit place, this atrium piled high of books. The walls are peeling with crack paint. The windows are covered in a constant fog. The stairs squeaks and the pipes moan; the halls are filled with a dull monochrome grey and still, Kama-san smiles a warm welcome. I didn't want to ask, but I did anyway: "Xibalba?"

"Xibalba," she repeats with a laugh, "the many levels of hell…"