Philosopher of the apocalypse_ , the man who taught men the art of living by dying." Laughter from somewhere in the crowd drew her gaze. Her eyes found him in the third row, his blond hair just so, his blue eyes focused on her. Her mind wandered back to their time on the beach—the day she'd nearly killed him. She almost reached out for him, but the movement caught the attention of the judge, who scowled. "You're looking at me again, Ms. Vogler. And that's a good thing." She dipped her head. "Please go on." She swallowed. She'd been practicing this for weeks now, and she'd thought she'd gotten it down. But standing here in front of everyone was different from being in the classroom or the conference room, surrounded by her notes and books. "The _boule_ is the central image of all apocalyptic visions, for in the end, the gods _have_ deserted us, the _boule_ shatters, and the man with the keys to the ark is the one man left in the world. Therefore, the word _Key_ is so important to the apocalyptic mythos. In many of the texts, it represents the only key that can allow access to the ark, and it is a metaphor for knowledge and power. In short, it's not just the man who has the knowledge, but the man who holds the power." She gestured to the case in front of her. "So the key is both a metaphor for the knowledge itself and a tool for acquiring it." She turned to the board, reading from her notes. "The key must represent power because without it, we cannot get into the ark." "Well put," someone said in the front row. The judge rolled her eyes. "But what does it mean when that metaphor for power is also a tool for destroying the ark?" The judge shifted in her seat. "Ms. Vogler, you have been instructed not to read off your slides." "I apologize, Judge. I was just wondering about this... this _power_ —" "Ms. Vogler!" The judge stood, her voice shrill. In the crowd, Hanna could see Paul and Gabe from the corner of her eye. They were both standing now, ready to respond in the way Hanna knew they would. "I'm not talking about your own opinion of power. I'm asking the meaning of the key metaphor in the mythos." Her voice rose. "And I'm telling you it's none of your business." Everyone shifted in their seats, uneasily. But Hanna held her gaze on the judge. "I'm asking you to understand the word _key_ in the apocalyptic mythos, and then tell me if the power represented by the key is capable of destroying the ark." Hanna heard murmurs, and her blood pumped through her veins. She hadn't said she wanted to destroy the ark, but she'd told them she didn't want to destroy it. She'd told them what she was here to say. The judge's eyes widened and she sat down with a thud. "Thank you for your patience," Hanna said, and smiled, her eyes on Paul. The crowd slowly turned away. She could feel his gaze on her again, and this time, she didn't turn away. She stood on the edge of the stage, next to the podium. Her hands shook as she handed her notes to Paul. A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and Hanna's body stiffened. Her jaw clenched. "Mr. Burke," the judge said, "you should not be here. This is a courtroom and you are not to touch Ms. Vogler. If you do, it will be grounds for dismissal." Hanna turned to the front and saw Paul's hand on Burke's shoulder. He kept his hand there. "It's all right, Hanna." "It's not," she said. "I know my rights." "No, you don't," Burke said. "And you want to apologize for bringing a knife to a gunfight. She brought a lawyer to a courtroom." "I told you not to come," Hanna said, her voice sharp. "Hanna," Burke said, "that doesn't make sense." He turned to the judge. "I'm sorry, Judge, but I'm not going anywhere." The judge raised her voice. "Mr. Burke, you are ordered to step out of this courtroom immediately or I will have you removed." Paul's voice was quiet. "She wants to be here. Let her." But Burke didn't step out of the courtroom. He stayed in his seat, and now, the crowd was looking at him, all of them waiting for something. The judge leaned toward Burke and he stood up slowly. "I think I need to step outside. If it pleases the court, I'll give my statement from the hallway." The judge's hands trembled slightly. "I'm afraid that's impossible, Mr. Burke. I am the court, and I will rule on how this hearing proceeds." "If that is your ruling, Judge, then I can appeal." The judge turned to the podium. "The witness will step forward and give her statement from the chair." "I would rather speak from the floor," Hanna said, climbing the two steps to the front. "Hanna," Burke said, standing. "Get out of my way," she said, standing on her tiptoes to see him. "Hanna—" "Out of my way." Burke made a move toward her and the room froze. Hanna stopped when she was standing over his chair. He looked up at her. "I'm going to appeal." He's a good lawyer, Hanna realized, and a good man. It was the way he'd spoken to her on the beach, the way he'd comforted her when she'd been hysterical and upset. It was the way he helped people without even knowing they needed it. He was good at what he did. "Don't do this," he said. "Please don't." Hanna reached out and pulled on his shirt. "You don't know what she'll do." "I know," he said, "and so do you." She wanted to say she didn't know. She wanted to say, _Go. Go out the door and do something great. Show them all what you can do. Go to medical school, or start a hospital. Go be her—become the doctor, the researcher, whatever she wants to be. Take her hand and let her lead you. But you don't have to stay here. You don't have to listen to her_. But she couldn't say any of it. All she could do was look at him. "Go, Hanna," he whispered, gently pulling her hand away from his shirt. "They'll listen to you." She swallowed and nodded, stepping away. As she climbed down from the chair, her mind wandered to the day they'd first met. She hadn't believed in the prophecy until he'd shown her the story about the key and the ark. She wondered if the judge was the one the story was telling. She walked past Burke. "How are you, sir?" "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I haven't had a drink in ten years." He laughed and looked at Hanna. "Don't tell me they've changed the rules." She gave him a small smile. "They haven't." She walked past the bench to the other end of the room. Paul was waiting for her, and she nodded to the empty chair. She looked at the judge. "I understand this is highly unusual, Judge, but I think it is better to be heard by someone who believes in what I'm saying, instead of a man like Mr. Burke." The judge leaned forward in her seat and looked at Hanna. "Your attorney said you would go on the record in front of the court." She shifted, looking toward the front doors. "We have a court in my apartment, Judge. It is our temple." The judge scoffed. "There is no evidence to support that." Hanna pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and laid it on the table. It was the statement she'd written in her apartment. "It is your evidence. The sign that there is a soul on this earth and I am no longer a blind man. And there was no one but God to hear my prayer." The judge opened the paper and read it. " 'I believe in you with every part of my heart and I trust you with my life.' " She shut the paper and looked at Hanna, then at Paul. "Is that you, Paul?" Paul nodded. "It is." "And you've seen this before?" Hanna nodded. "It's my personal statement, and the reason I came to the conference in the first place." The judge smiled. "Then you should have sent it to