Thor examined the castle in awe. Before him were two huge, golden arched doors, five times as tall as he, and five times as wide. They shone so brightly they nearly blinded him, each with massive handles carved in the shape of a falcon.
Thor sensed intuitively that grasping those handles and trying to open the door would do no good. He knew it was a magic door, the most powerful door in the world. That the only way in was if the doors were opened for him.
Thor waited for them to open, but they did not.
“I demand to be let in!” Thor boomed out.
“You are not worthy of being let in here,” boomed out a voice, dark, male.
Thor stood his ground, determined.
“I am worthy!” Thor yelled back, feeling worthy for the first time.
“And why are you worthy?” came the voice.
“I am Thorgrin. Son of my mother, Queen of the Land of the Druids. Son of Andronicus, King of the Empire. I am he. I, and no other. I am not worthy because of my powers. I am not worthy because of my skills. I am worthy because of who I am . I deserve to be let inside these doors. For no other reason than for who I am .”
Thor felt his entire body vibrating as he spoke the words. He felt that he had finally reached the deepest truth of this training. Acceptance of himself.
He began to see that everything he manifested in the universe was a result of how he felt about himself. All the dark forces, they were real, and yet they were also all figments of himself he had to overcome. The deepest, hardest foe to overcome was how he felt about himself.
He had viewed himself his entire life, he realized it now, as undeserving. He still did now. When he let go of that, when he accepted himself fully and completely, just for who he was, then all doors in the universe would open for him. That was the final step towards conquering himself.
Thor felt a deep sense of peace as he realized all of this, as he accepted himself.
He opened his eyes slowly, and he looked up to see the doors shining more brightly than they ever had, and opening, slowly, wider and wider, the most beautiful sound in the world as the hinges opened effortlessly. Light flooded him, a golden light, pouring out from inside the castle, all-embracing, warmer, stronger than he could imagine.
He took his first step. Then another.
He felt warmer and warmer, and he knew that in just a few more steps, he would be inside this castle, with his mother. Finally, his destiny would be complete. In just a few more steps, all would be revealed.
And his life would never be the same again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Alistair found herself flying, looking down over the Ring, and she did not know how. She had no wings, she rode on no dragon, and yet still she floated, soaring above the landscape of her home country, looking down at it all from above.
As she looked down, she was confused. In place of the summer bounty she had left, in place of the fertile fields, the endless orchards she had grown accustomed to, there was a scorched land beneath her, destroyed by the dragons’ breath. Nothing was left—not a single city, town, village, not even a hamlet. Every last structure had been burned to ashes.
The trees, once so lush, ancient, were all burnt-out stumps, and there were no more structures to mark the landscape. There remained nothing but waste and devastation.
Alistair was horrified. She flew low, covering the entire Ring, and found herself flying over the Canyon, over the great crossing. She saw below her Romulus, leading an army of millions, stretching as far as the eye could see. The Empire now occupied her homeland.
Alistair knew then that her homeland had been destroyed forever, and the Shield destroyed with it. The Ring was occupied, was now the property of the Empire. What once was would never be again.
Alistair blinked and found herself standing before her mother’s castle, her back to it, facing a great skywalk, which twisted and turned its way miles below to the mainland. It was a long, curving path, and on it there walked a sole figure. He came close, and she realized it was her brother, Thorgrin, here to see their mother.
Thor looked up at Alistair, and she was so relieved to see her brother, the last person alive in a world of desolation. She felt that in moments she’d be meeting their mother, the three of them together for the first time.
Thor came close and smiled as he held out a hand for her. She reached for him.
Suddenly, the skywalk beneath him collapsed, and Thor fell through it, plummeting through the air and toward the rocks and ocean below.
Alistair looked down and watched, helpless, her heart breaking; without thinking, she dove down, over the cliff, to save him.
“Thorgrin!” she cried.
Alistair found herself landing not in the ocean but rather on an entirely new landscape, atop a plateau, looking down over thousands of people of the Southern Isles. She turned and saw Erec standing beside her, holding her hand, each of them dressed in their wedding attire, in luxurious silk robes.
But something was wrong with Erec when he smiled: he smiled wider, and blood poured from his mouth. He then collapsed, falling face first off the edge of the cliff, arms out wide by his side, trailing blood, as his people reached out to grab him with open arms. Alistair lifted her hands, covered in blood, and found herself standing there alone, her groom diving, dead, into the masses below.
“Erec!” she screamed.
Alistair woke screaming, breathing hard, looking all around her in the predawn light of her chamber. She wiped sweat from her brow and jumped from her bed, searching her hands for blood.
But there was none.
Alistair, confused, tried to catch her breath as she paced the room, rubbing her face, trying to understand where she was. It took her several moments to realize it had all been a dream. She was safe. Erec was safe. Thorgrin was safe. She was not in the Ring but here, safe, in the Southern Isles.
Alistair breathed. It was the most horrible dream she’d ever had. It felt like more than a dream—it felt like a message. Like a twisted version of the future. And it looked very dark.
Alistair tried to shake it off, pacing in her chamber. What could be the meaning of such a dream? She tried to assure herself that it was just night panic—yet deep down, in her gut, she could not help but feel that it was something more. Was her homeland really destroyed? Was her brother about to die?
Her groom?
Surely, such travesty couldn’t all befall her at once; surely, it all meant nothing.
Alistair crossed the room and splashed cold water on her face several times. She went to the open window, soft ocean breezes rolling in, and examined the Southern Isles in the predawn light. It was still the most beautiful view she had ever seen, the smell of orange blossoms waking her, the moist air calming her. It was the cleanest she’d ever breathed.