CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Thor walked for hours through the winding trails of the forest, thinking about his encounter with Gwen. He could not shake her from his mind. Their time together had been magical, way beyond his expectations, and he no longer worried about the depth of her feelings for him. It was the perfect day-except, of course, for what happened at the end of their encounter.
That white snake, so rare, and such a bad omen. It was lucky they had not been bit; Thor looked down at Krohn, walking loyally beside him, happy as ever, and wondered what would’ve happened if he had not been there, had not killed the snake and saved their lives. Would they both be dead right now? He was forever grateful to Krohn, and knew he had a lifelong, trusted companion in him.
Yet the omen still bothered him: that snake was exceedingly rare, and didn’t even live in this portion of the kingdom. It lived farther south, in the marshes and swamps. How could it have traveled so far? Why did it have to come upon them at just that moment? It was too mystical: he felt absolutely certain that it was a sign. Like Gwen, he felt it was a bad omen, a harbinger of death to come. But whose?
Thor wanted to push the image from his mind, to forget about it, to think of other things-but he could not. It plagued him, gave him no rest. He knew he should return to the barracks, but he had not been able to. Today was still their day off, and so instead he had walked for hours, circling the forest trails, trying to clear his mind. He felt certain that the snake held some deep message, just for him, that he was being urged to take some action.
Making things worse, his departure with Gwen had been abrupt. When they’d reach the forest’s edge, they had parted ways quickly, with barely a word. She had seemed distraught. He assumed it was because of the snake, but he could not be sure. She had made no mention of their meeting again. Had she changed her mind about him? Had he done something wrong?
The thought tore Thor apart. He hardly knew what to do with himself, as he wandered in circles for hours. He felt that he needed to talk to someone, someone who understood these things, who understood signs and omens.
Thor stopped in his tracks. Of course. Argon. He would be perfect. He could explain it all to him, and set his mind at ease.
Thor looked out: he was standing at the northern end of the farthest ridge and from here had a sweeping view of the royal city below him. He stood near a crossroads, and he knew that Argon lived alone, in a stone cottage, on the northern outskirts of Boulder Plains. He knew that if he forked left, away from the city, one of these trails would lead him there. He began his journey.
It was far from here, and there was a good chance, Thor knew, that Argon would not even be there. But he had to try. He could not rest until he had answers.
Thor walked with a new bounce to his step, walking double-time, heading towards the plains. Morning turned into afternoon, as he walked and walked. It was a beautiful summer day, and the light shone brilliantly on the fields all around him. Krohn bounced along at his side, stopping every now and again to pounce on a squirrel, which he carried triumphantly in his mouth.
The trail became steeper, windier, and the meadows faded, giving way to a desolate landscape of rocks and boulders. Soon, the trail, too, faded. It became colder and windier up here, as the trees dropped away too, and the landscape turned rocky, craggy. It was eerie up here, nothing but small rocks, dirt and boulders as far as the eye could see; Thor felt like he was journeying on a wasted earth. As the trail completely disappeared, Thor found himself walking on gravel and rock.
Beside him, Krohn began to whine. There was a creepy feeling in the air, and Thor felt it, too. It wasn’t necessarily evil: it was just different. Like a heavy spiritual fog.
Just as Thor was beginning to wonder if he was heading in the right direction, he spotted on the horizon, high up on a hill, a small stone cottage. It was perfectly round, shaped as a ring, built of a black, solid stone and low to the ground. It had no windows, and just a single door, shaped in an arch-yet with no knocker or handle. Could Argon really live here, in this desolate place? Would he be upset that Thor had come uninvited?
Thor was beginning to have second thoughts, but forced himself to stay on the path. As he approached the door, he felt the energy in the air, so thick he could hardly breathe. His heart beat faster with trepidation as he reached out to knock with his fist.
Before he could touch it, the door opened by itself, a crack. It looked black in there, and Thor could not tell if only the wind had pushed it open. It was so dark, he could not see how anyone could be inside.
Thor reached out, gently pushed open the door, and stuck his head in:
“Hello?” he called out.
He pushed it wider. It was black in here, save for a soft glow on the far side of the dwelling.
“Hello?” he called out, louder. “Argon?”
Beside him, Krohn whined. It seemed obvious to Thor that this was a bad idea, that Argon was not at home. But still he forced himself to look. He took two steps in, and as he did, the door slammed close behind him.
Thor spun, and there, standing on the far wall, was Argon.
“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” Thor said, his heart pounding.
“You come uninvited,” Argon said.
“Forgive me,” Thor said. “I did not mean to intrude.”
Thor looked around, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and saw several small candles, laid out in a circle, around the periphery of the stone wall. The room was lit mostly by a single shaft of light, which came in through a small, circular opening in the ceiling. This place was overwhelming, stark and surreal.
“Few people have been here,” Argon replied. “Of course, you would not be here now unless I allowed you to be. That door only opens for whom it is intended. For whom it is not, it would never open-not with all the strength of the world.”
Thor felt better, and yet he also wondered how Argon had known he was coming. Everything about this man was mysterious to him.
“I had an encounter I did not understand,” Thor said, needing to let it all out, and to hear Argon’s opinion. “There was a snake. A Whiteback. It nearly attacked us. We were saved by my leopard, Krohn.”
“We?” Argon asked.
Thor flushed, realizing he had said too much. He didn’t know what to say.
“I was not alone,” he said.
“And who were you with?”
Thor bit his tongue, not knowing how much to say. After all, this man was close to her father, the king, and perhaps he would tell.
“I don’t see how that is relevant to the snake.”
“It is entirely relevant. Have you not wondered if that is why the snake came to begin with?”
Thor was completely off guard.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“Not every omen you see is meant for you. Some are meant for others.”
Thor examined Argon in the dim light, starting to understand. Was Gwen fated for something evil? And if so, could he stop it?
“Can you change fate?” Thor asked.
Argon turned, slowly crossing his room.
“Of course, that is the question we have been asking for centuries,” Argon replied. “Can fate be changed? On the one hand, everything is destined, everything is written. On the other hand, we have free will. Our choices also determine our fate. It seems impossible for these two-destiny and free will-to live together, side by side, yet they do. It is where these two intercede-where destiny meets free will-that human behavior comes into play. Destiny can’t always be broken, but sometimes it can be bent, or even changed, by a great sacrifice and a great force of free will. Yet most of the time, destiny is firm. Most of the time, we are just bystanders, put her to watch it play out. We think we play a part in it, but usually we don’t. We are mostly observers, not participants.”
“So then why does the universe bother showing us omens, if there’s nothing we can do about them?” Thor asked.
