Elder Dorin nodded his head slowly. “It is not surprising that you wish to know what lies behind the other doors. There are mysteries surrounding you. I appreciate you asking permission instead of simply walking through the doors yourself.”
Garinor couldn’t help but laugh. “I didn’t have much choice when I came back. I went unconscious.”
The Elder smiled. “Yes, but you did so only because you were satisfied with what you had seen, else you would have clung to wakefulness and sought the other paths as well. But it is your request now to visit a new door, and so you may. By all means, view what you wish.” He lifted his hand and signaled for the door.
Garinor was taken aback by the Elder’s agreement and also that he should go immediately. He didn’t want to try the Elder’s patience, so he accepted the gesture and pushed himself to his feet with a nod. He saw Elder Dorin smile as he stepped toward the door and he felt he hadn’t been foolish to ask for this second viewing.
Garinor followed the path around to the three doors and he stood before the rightmost portal. He reached for the threshold of the future and there he witnessed the second vision.
A brilliant white light blinded him as he touched the door latch. His soul exploded into a million pieces, scattering in all directions. The pain was incredible, and he strained to remember who he was and why he was here. He needed to know what was to come. He needed answers for his own existence. Visions flooded his mind in intense flashes. It was impossible to link the images together into any semblance of a pattern, but he clung onto each one as if his life depended on it.
Before him stood a tall, thin man, well-accustomed to athletic pursuits. He possessed a conceited aura and it dampened his otherwise decent looks. Cold eyes stared down and a snarl curled his lip. He was displeased and angry and he wanted the death of the one kneeling before him.
Garinor’s mother sat in her garden, tears streaming silently from her eyes. She clutched her arms about her as she wept, peering up at the sky overhead.
A marble-coated room appeared, centered by two red and purple thrones, both of which were empty.
Tomli lay on a rocky dirt road. His handsome face was creased in pain. Blood trickled from a head wound and his eyes were closed. His body was curled into a tight ball as if he had tried hiding himself before a lethal attack. A sword lay nearby and it looked as if Tomli had dropped it as he had fallen.
An iron scepter sat on the ground at the back of a cave. The rubies, emeralds, and sapphires that had been set into it were covered in rock and dust, but begged to be brought into the light. Fine carvings were drawn along the surface of the scepter, making it seem enticing to touch. It looked priceless, but it also looked cursed. Not far from the scepter lay several skeletal hands of apparent thieves who had met their ends trying to claim the scepter.
As swiftly as they had burst apart, the fragments of Garinor’s soul snapped together again. He was blasted back from the doorway and he crashed to the ground in a heap.
He sat there for a few minutes, trying to combine the knowledge he had seen in the past with the new scenes he had witnessed in the future. Two decisions remained for him now.