A Clash of Honor - By Morgan Rice Page 0,77

he stood in felt charged, sacred, and wearing his mother’s necklace, he began to feel a stronger energy within him than ever before. Images flashed within him. He began to see visions of the Ring, with more clarity than he’d ever had. It was like it was real. It was no longer fuzzy, as it used to be.

Thor focused and saw a great tide of humanity, an endless number of cities; he looked down on them, as if flying overhead. He watched seasons change beneath him, saw time pass, from decade to decade, century to century. He saw all the people divided. Then he saw all the people as one.

“Good,” Argon said. “I sense that you can feel it. The force stream. Now, control the river. Look to the future. Tell me what you see.”

Thor closed his eyes, struggling—but nothing came to him. Then he recalled Argon’s past lessons, and forced himself to stop struggling. He breathed deep, and tried to allow it to come to him instead.

Thor began to see crystal-clear visions of the future. He flinched inside, was horrified as he watched King’s Court overrun. He watched invaders destroy it, raze it, burn it down to the ground. In place of the great city, there was just a mound of ashes.

Thor heard the screams, watched thousands of people fleeing; he saw thousands butchered, thousands more imprisoned, taken as slaves. He watched as a wasteland spread and engulfed the once-bucolic hills of the Ring. He watched fruit fall from trees, saw women taken away. He saw great armies invading, covering every corner of the Ring. And he watched the sky blacken.

“I see a time of great darkness,” Thor said.

“Yes,” Argon said.

As Thor closed his eyes, he watched a blood-red moon rise over a desolate wasteland. It was night, and he saw a single fire burning in the blackness of the Ring.

“I see a fire,” Thor said. “Burning in the wasteland.”

“That fire is the source of hope,” Argon said. “It is what will rise from the ashes.”

Thor squinted and saw more.

“I see a sword,” Thor said. “A gleaming sword. It shines in the sun. I see a hundred men being killed one swipe.”

“The Destiny Sword,” Argon said.

Thor flinched as he watched dragons fly down from the sky, breathing flames onto what was left of the Ring.

“I see a host of dragons,” Thor said, voice shaking. “They attack as one.”

Thor had to open his eyes—he could stand it no more. The visions were too horrific.

He saw Argon staring back.

“You are powerful,” Argon said. “You have seen much. The power within you is strong. Stronger than I thought.”

“But tell me what it all means,” Thor pleaded, upset. “Is it all true? Will the Ring be destroyed? What will become of King’s Court? Of the Legion? Of Gwendolyn?”

Argon shook his head sadly.

“You can’t control the future,” Argon said. “But you can prepare. You must prepare.”

“How?”

“You must become stronger. The Ring needs you. You must develop the powers within yourself. You must claim for yourself the power source of your mother, a great Druid, of your father, a great warrior. It all lies within you. Only you are stopping it from shining through. You must accept it. Unleash it. Claim it as your own.”

“But how?” Thor pleaded.

“Stop resisting it. Stop fearing who you are.”

Argon turned.

“That stream,” he said. “Close your eyes. Hear its gurgling. Really hear it.”

Thor closed his eyes and tried to focus. He heard the delicate sound of water running over rocks.

“Can you feel it?” Argon asked. “Can you feel its current?”

Thor listened to the tranquil sound of the stream, and he felt it moving, felt its current.

“Good,” Argon said. “You and the water are one. Now stop the water. Change its course. Turn it upstream.”

Thor focused on the current of the water, which he felt flowing as if it were flowing through his own body.

Then, slowly, Thor reached out a palm and directed it towards the water. He could feel the stream’s energy source, tickling the center of his palm. Slowly, he willed the current to change directions.

Thor felt a great strength within him, felt the resistance of the water, weighing on his palm, felt himself struggling, as if lifting a physical object. He opened his eyes and was amazed to see that he was stopping the flow of the stream. He was creating a small wall of water, like a dam, freestanding in the midst of the stream, revealing the dry bed underneath it.

“Good,” Argon said. “Very good. Now let

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