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XLI.



The ring lays in the palm of my stained right hand,

Bloodied from tending the wound on my left arm.

I adore it with the eager, hungry eyes of a child,

Or those of a predator whose prey has been spotted.

I run my fingers over its intricate designs:

The runes engraved into the golden sides,

Sigils of the gods themselves, passed on for mortal use.

I close my hand over the ring, my eyes clamped shut.



XLII.



I can feel the power flowing through the ring as I hold it;

A seemingly kinetic energy flows throughout the gold,

Through the gold, and unto me.

I suddenly stand erect, every muscle in my body stiffening.

It is the feeling of being struck by a noetic lightning,

And my heart leaps at this realization, for this could be it:

The enlightenment that I sought from the journey’s start,

It shall be mine once I place the ring on my finger.



XLIII.



My hands hang heavy as I drop the ring into my left palm,

My right hand grabbing the O-shape of the ring’s body.

Pinched between my thumb and forefinger,

I hold the ring tightly, yet distantly,

And glide it slowly onto the ring finger of my left hand.

The feeling of noetic lightning grows stronger as it slides on,

Finally climaxing as it passes my knuckle, it’s final resting place.

My eyes suddenly shoot open… and I fall into the cosmic winds.



XLIV.



I plummet into darkness, my body being ripped away from me;

Oh no, my mind roars as I sink deeper into this cosmic nothingness.

The only things left to fall are my soul, left bare in this void,

And the ring, only mere inches away from what remains of my spirit.

It leads me from my realm on the world tree, O mighty Yggdrasil,

And I hear the voice… His voice: “It was destined to your hand?

You were destined to my ring. And you’ve served your purpose.”

So I fall, cursed by the gods for my apostasy, fulfilling my destiny.