A final night he hangs from the Tree, a final night his own spear holds him. What dreams will come… what changes they will bring?
He fears the night.
He has hung here forever, bleeding yet content in his suffering.
And ending will be a beginning and this too he fears as the dreaming takes him.
Yet he embraces the dream, welcoming it as a lover, intimate as a shared breath.
Beneath him fields of ripened corn lie golden, almost ready for the harvest; they stretch from the western horizon to the east. A gilded kingdom that shifts, rippling like water in the breeze.
The rune flames a final time as the sun kisses the distant hills, heralding the dawn.
He knows not what he seeks.
Small, delicate, barely blooming, hidden within the corn… a few green leaves. Unprepossessing, insignificant they seem, and yet they call to him with quiet strength as he turns to gather them.
These are the last.
It is done…
… “And what alternative is this,” says Wen in a somewhat accusatory tone, “you never mentioned this in any of our dispatches.”
“It isn’t that much of a radical departure, actually, I mean when all is said and done it is a fairly obvious idea really…”
“Stop prevaricating and spit it out,” says Wen enjoying my discomfort.
“Well, I thought the stone might actually be a representation of Yggdrasil.”
“You’re right,” says Wen, “It isn’t that much of a stretch, but why would Yggdrasil have icons carved on its trunk?”
“Yggdrasil has icons carved on its trunk because the World Tree is also a
representation of time.”…
Doomsday Book Two
Stuart France & Sue Vincent