novelhk Chapter 26 The Journey to Avalon
Chapter 26 The Journey to Avalon
Mary led him into a forest he had never been to before.
Saying "never been there" might not be accurate.
Arthur grew up in the forests surrounding Camelot, and he knew every oak tree, every fern, and every path trodden by deer.
But the road beneath his feet was one he had never walked before.
It wasn't hidden that deeply, it's just that it shouldn't exist in the first place.
Two ancient trees that should have been dozens of steps apart had somehow come together, forming a narrow gap between their trunks, just wide enough for one person to pass sideways.
Mary skillfully squeezed in sideways, her long, silvery-white hair flashing through the gap.
Arthur followed behind her, the hilt of the sword in the stone scraping against the bark with a very soft thud.
After passing through the crack, the world changed.
The sky was completely obscured by the dense canopy of trees, but the ground was not dark.
The edges of each leaf shimmered with a faint silver light, like moonlight crushed into powder and evenly sprinkled across every corner of the forest.
The air was cool but not pungent, carrying a fragrance of indescribable origin.
It's not the scent of flowers, nor the aroma of grass; it's more like the pure and crisp smell of melting snow.
There was no path underfoot, only a layer of soft moss that made no sound when stepped on.
The entire forest was unrealistically quiet; there were no birdsong, no insect sounds, and no rustling of wind through the leaves.
There was only a deep, ancient silence, as if this forest existed before humankind was born and would continue to exist after humankind's demise.
Mary walked ahead, her steps light as if she were going home.
In fact, this was indeed her homecoming.
Her long, silvery-white hair shone even brighter in the silent forest, and her amethyst-like eyes reflected the silver light from the edges of the leaves.
She didn't speak or turn around, but Arthur could sense that she was slowing down.
It was both to wait for him and to give him time to see things clearly.
Arthur didn't know how long he had been walking. In this forest where there was no sun, moon, or stars, time lost its usual measure.
Maybe half an hour, maybe just a breath.
The moss underfoot gradually thinned, the distance between the trees widened, and the silvery sheen on the edges of the leaves grew brighter.
Then, the forest suddenly came to an end.
Arthur stopped in his tracks.
Before me lies a lake, not a large one, but from this side I can clearly see the treeline on the opposite bank.
The lake water is so deep that you can't see the bottom, but it doesn't appear murky. It's so clear that you can't see anything at all.
The lake was as calm as a mirror, reflecting the sky, which was fragmented by the tree canopy.
But the color of the sky is wrong.
Unlike the greyish-blue or twilight purple that one would expect from Britain, it possessed a soft radiance, somewhere between gold and silver, that he had never seen before.
It's as if dusk and dawn are frozen at the same moment.
There is a small island in the middle of the lake.
There are no trees or flowers on the island, only a white stone shaped like a natural throne.
A woman was sitting on the rock.
Perhaps the word "woman" sounds too human.
She wore a long robe woven from mist and moonlight, its texture flowing like water.
The colors shifted and changed like starlight, and with each breath, a faint silver ripple spread across the hem of her skirt.
Her long hair hung down to the water's surface; its color was neither silver nor gold, but rather the lake water itself.
It refracts all the colors of the sky through its transparency, and presents a different luster from every angle.
Her eyes were closed, her eyelashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks. Her features were so exquisite that it was almost unbearable to look directly at her, yet so gentle that it brought tears to one's eyes.
Arthur stood by the lake and suddenly realized a fact:
He couldn't see her face clearly; the distance between them wasn't far.
Because that face is different every moment, he can't see it clearly.
The curve of his brow bone, the height of his nose, the thickness of his lips—they all changed under his gaze, each change so beautiful that one could forget the appearance of the previous moment.
Morgan's cold brow, Scáthach's resolute eyes, Merry's sly smile, Guinevere's gentle face, and many more faces he had never seen before, yet felt inexplicably nostalgic for.
She changed constantly in Arthur's eyes, eventually settling on a face that combined the features of all the women he had loved and would love.
It's not about any one person, but about "ideals" themselves.
The fairy in the lake opened her eyes, eyes that could not be named with any color.
It's not blue, not purple, not gold, not silver.
It is the color of the lake, the color of the starlight, the sum of all colors, and the dissolution of all colors.
"Arthur Pendragon," she began.
The sound did not come from her mouth, but rose from the lake, descended from the starlight, and resounded simultaneously from the silence of the entire Avalon.
"Your sword in the stone is not broken yet."
This is not a question, it is a statement.
"Yes," Arthur said.
"You should have waited until it broke before coming to me; that was the 'destined order'."
The fairy in the lake slightly turned her head, and the starlight reflected in the water swayed gently with her movement. "Why didn't you wait?"
Arthur glanced down at the sword in the stone at his waist; the sapphire shimmered quietly in the light of Avalon.
The warmth of the sword hilt against his palm felt like a silent form of trust.
"Because I don't want to lose it."
The fairy in the lake did not respond, but simply watched him quietly, waiting for him to continue.
"The sword in the stone chose me," Arthur said.
"When I myself did not believe that I could become king, it chose me."
When everyone thought I was just King Uther's bastard son, it chose me.
Before I pulled it out, I didn't know who I was, what I wanted to do, or what kind of person I could become.
It chose me first, and then I chose the path of 'becoming king.'
He raised his head, his emerald green eyes staring directly into those unnamed eyes.
"It is not a sword destined to break; it is my sword."
I don't want it to break, I don't want it to become a "sacrifice" on my path to becoming stronger.
I want to protect it, just as it once protected me.
The lake nymph looked at him, the starlight in the lake stopped shimmering, and the silence of Avalon became deeper and more profound, as if listening.
"So you came here wanting to have two swords at the same time," she said.
"You choose the sword of kings and the sword of salvation, the sword in the stone and the holy sword in the lake, the proof of the past and the power of the future. You do not accept the 'predestined order,' you want to make your own choice."
"Yes."
"Do you know that no one has ever done this before?"
"Know."
"Do you know that if you fail, both swords might refuse you?"
The sword in the stone will lose its luster because of your "betrayal," and the holy sword in the lake will never be recognized because of your "greed."
You might lose both at the same time.
Arthur remained silent for the duration of a single breath.
"I know."
The fairy in the lake smiled slightly, a very faint curve, so faint that it would have been impossible to notice if not for the absolute silence.
But in that instant, her ever-changing expression suddenly froze.
The lines of her brow bone softened, the color of her eyes warmed, and the curve of her lips became gentler.
That wasn't anyone's face; it was just a face "presented for him."
"Answer me one question," said the Lake Fairy.
What is a "king"?
Arthur did not answer immediately; he lowered his head and looked at his reflection in the lake.
Emerald green eyes, golden hair, and a sapphire sword gleaming in the stone at his waist.
The self I was when I drew my sword, the self I was when I returned from the Land of Shadows, and the self I am now standing by Lake Avalon.
Three figures overlapped on the water's surface.
"The king is the one who 'chooses'," he said.
"It's not about being chosen by others, nor about choosing others; it's about choosing 'the path you want to take,' and then bearing all the consequences of that choice."