Page 68 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)

The historic Old-New Synagogue is nestled in the neighborhood of Josefov—once the original walled Jewish ghetto of Prague.

As the oldest active synagogue in Europe, it has been a silent witness to the changing tides of history since the late thirteenth century.

Despite the encroachments of time and tumultuous events that Prague has endured, the synagogue remains unscathed—a testament to the resilience of faith and tradition.

According to legend, the stones for this temple were brought by angels from Jerusalem “on condition” that the stones would be returned to Jerusalem upon the arrival of the Messiah.

Many scholars believe that this gift “on condition”—in Hebrew, al tnay —was confused with the Yiddish alt-nay, which literally means Old-New, hence the building’s unusual name.

A spiritual oasis…in a desert of materialism, The Golěm thought, gazing ahead at the synagogue’s austere stone facade, which was flanked closely by the storefronts of Hermès, Montblanc, and Valentino.

The modern world had encroached upon every corner of this ancient ghetto, swallowing up its somber residences until barely a trace remained of the perilous streets once patrolled by the original mythical golem, who had been created on this spot centuries ago.

In many ways, the synagogue was where The Golěm had been born as well.

Shortly after arriving in Prague, he had been walking aimlessly past this building when he heard a tour guide narrating the legend of the Jewish ghetto’s great protector—a guardian soul inserted into the body of a clay monster.

The story felt familiar and personal. As if drawn by some unseen gravity, The Golěm had entered the temple.

Inside, the air was deathly still, infused with an almost mystical energy.

Behind the altar, the sacred ark stood sentinel, harboring the ancient Torah scrolls inspired by the eternal dialogue between the earthly and the divine.

The Golěm felt comforted by the silence and dim light.

He took a seat on a wooden pew whose surface was worn smooth by generations of the faithful, and it was there, by the fragile light of medieval chandeliers, that he had picked up an informational pamphlet… and he had begun to read.

He found himself captivated by the legend of the golem and its creator, a powerful rabbi named Judah Loew ben Bezalel, also revered as the Maharal of Prague.

In addition to being a scholar of Jewish mysticism and the Talmud, Rabbi Loew had been a mathematician, astronomer, philosopher, and Kabbalist who had written extensively, including an important text known as Gur Aryeh al HaTorah.

Later that night, The Golěm had quietly read the rabbi’s text, which he had purchased in the gift shop beside the synagogue. As he consumed the ancient words, The Golěm was stunned to find himself on every page…the Truth as he already understood it!

Reality has many different levels.

Guf, nefesh, sechel…

A solitary soul can fuse with another to form a new entity.

Yesodot, taarovot, tarkovot.

Souls are reborn again and again.

Gilgul neshamot…

That fateful night, as he studied the cycle of souls, he was struck by the realization that he, like the original golem, had materialized with clarity and without preamble into this realm, a blank soul awaking inside a physical form that felt so foreign to him as to be repulsive.

He recalled that first moment inside the dank mental institution when, inspired by an act of unspeakable cruelty, The Golěm had suddenly perceived himself and felt purpose…

rising up out of nothingness…seeing a helpless woman being beaten senseless by a night nurse.

He had launched himself forward and struck the nurse to the ground, strangling her unrelentingly until the life left her.

Then he had stood over his victim and savored his victory, empowered by his first act of service in this realm.

The woman he saved had not been conscious to witness his act of valor.

Nor had she felt him transporting her beaten body back to her bed, where he tended to her wounds and then slipped back into the darkness…

beginning to understand who he was and why he had been summoned.

I am her protector.

From then on, he served as a silent guardian within those prison walls, watching from the shadows, confirming she was safe.

Not until that night in Prague, reading the words of Rabbi Loew, had it finally dawned on The Golěm why the Jewish legend felt so familiar…

and the real reason why he had been brought to Prague.

I am The Golěm.

He pictured the clay monster awaking without warning, knowing only that he was here to protect.

My story is his story.

Like the ancient clay monster, The Golěm often felt like an outcast, condemned to being alone. He too struggled with his sanity. Sometimes The Golěm longed for recognition of his sacrifice, but that was not his place. And so he continued to move through her world unseen.

Today brought a vastly different challenge. He had killed her mentor and also her lover—two monsters who had abused her trust—but it was critical that Sasha not discover his actions on her behalf.

She would never forgive me…never understand.

For this reason, The Golěm had decided what needed to be done. He had gently locked Sasha away in darkness, where she would be blessedly unaware of all that was transpiring…and all he was about to do.

As he neared the synagogue, he felt burdened, and yet the weight he was carrying was not only spiritual. His cloak pockets were full—a Vipertek stun gun, a retractable blade, and a metal wand to control the Ether. The Golěm suspected he would need them all.

Before reaching the temple, The Golěm veered abruptly left on ?iroká Street, heading not for the synagogue today, but rather for the lot next door—three acres of earth surrounded by a tall stone fortification.

Both revered and feared, what lay within these walls had become known worldwide…as the ghostliest place on earth.