The King bearer three

Part 7: Chiron

Chiron was disappointed by what he was seeing. Which was, namely, nothing. He had been wandering the woods for half an hour, trying to find the tree he was currently looking at, the one that had burst into flames the night he and Mr. D had traversed the woods, following the oracle's vague instructions and blindly looking for a clue to the meaning of what Mr. D was calling 'the infinite prophecy'. Chiron could admit that he was right, the prophecy seemed not to have a permanent ending. While the oracle herself was incapacitate, the poor girl, the two, Chiron himself and Mr. D, could still observe the oracle's green smoke emerging from her mouth as she whispered phrases in her days - long sleep. More parts to the prophecy, more variables to the equation, indecipherable enough as it was. 

Mr. D had stopped looking into the latest pieces, or even the potential physical aspects and meanings, of the prophecy. He had stopped looking at the prophecy as a whole, instead opting to focus his attention on the first lines of the prophecy, trying to translate 'Sire of death' via process of elimination and whatnot, to find out who the players were to be in this sorry tale. Chiron found this to be an admirable strategy, a rather genius way of favouring their outcomes, of separating the known from the unknowable.  

Yet, for all he admired this venture, Chiron could not join him. For one thing, Mr. D did most of his 'conspiracy boarding', as he called it, in the attic, which was always a challenge on account of stairs and ladders not being meant for the quadrupedal. For another, it was fruitless to deny the fascinating quandary of that night in the woods. It was the first night of solid silence Chiron had seen in camp in quite some time, and it was the first flaming tree he'd ever seen, without traceable godly magic. Much less delivering a message, and much less in burning words. 

Whether or not it was a mere distraction to stabilize his mind and ward insanity away was neither here nor there, and regardless, the imperative remained; time was of the essence. This thought rang through Chiron's head as he stared, affronted, at the tree in front of him. He did not have time to waste in a labyrinth of dead ends and loose threads, even of his own making. Especially, of his own making. If it was his own invention, then nothing good could come of it, and this seemed like exactly that sort of thing. He sighed to himself and turned away, casting one last longing, disdainful, distant glance towards the tree behind him, a normal, uninteresting, now - nothing tree, as he trotted out of the woods. 

He hadn't looked up, though, if he had, he might have seen it. The crow. It was sitting atop the highest branch of the tree, silently, watching him leave. He had been so distracted by thoughts of infinite, prophetic mysteries, his mind busy making a fool of itself and calling him an idiot, he couldn't have noticed the distinct smell of rotting, or the mysteriously boy - shaped shadow that was cast over the ground beneath him. If he had, by chance, noticed these things, the events to come would be very different for him. He could have known. He did not, however, notice anything, so lost in thought he was, so worried and absorbed in the things in his head, the prophecies and fires, the things he had seen and heard. 

He was so absorbed in these things, these wild, repetitive, maddening thoughts of his that it wasn't until the crow, as if tuned to some cosmic rhythm and hearing its cue, cawed loudly from its branch. In the moment that Chiron turned his head to look, the crow vanished, dissolving into ash, and dirt, and dust, falling to earth, without a sound, without a trace. So, Chiron saw nothing atop the tree, heard nothing more from the crow, and turned back to his course, turned to exit this story, never again to see such a major role as this. He did not see the ash and dust, did not investigate. If he had, which he did not, he'd have seen a symbol made of the collapsed dust. The symbol itself was not long for this world, and indeed of no major consequence, apart from the fact that it matched the symbol which Chiron saw on the stone that night. It was quickly blown a sunder, and replaced with words. They were an order from no one, from everyone, a request from nothing, from everything. They were words meant for one boy alone.

                                             -------------------------------------------------------- 

For the rest of the day, Chiron carried with him the unnerving sensation that, despite his wisdom, his patience and his studious observation of everything that was around him, there was something he missed. Something important, something monumental, something that could change the course of everything he knew. He tried his hardest to resist the feeling, to ignore it, to act on it and release himself from the unnerving sensation and pressure of not - knowing. He even managed to convince Mr. D to bring him up to the attic with him, but found nothing to shake the feeling. 

Eventually he traced the feeling back to the woods, as it had started almost as soon as he had left, regret and fear colliding to form an unnerving sense of, well, of not - knowing. He retraced his steps, back through the mud and the roots, past the creek, and all the way back to that very same tree, the one that had burned, the one that was nothing. It was raining by then, a storm having been permitted after a petition from the Demeter Cabin said that the plants they were introducing to the local ecosystem were dying of thirst. The rain had made the journey rather miserable, and made any chance of flaming words a near impossibility. He rounded the tree once, twice, three times, not noticing the grey mush mixed in with the brown mud. There was nothing he could see, nothing of importance, nothing that could have sent this niggling suspicion running up his spine.  

He hung his head in defeat. There was nothing here, not anymore, not for him. The rain had washed it all away, had ruined everything, any chance he had at closure, at ridding himself of this horrible sensation. Any chance he had of a larger role in the things to come. The rain had ruined everything, and it was getting late, dinner would be called soon, and he was expected by the campers to attend. He turned around and left once again. The rain had ruined everything, but not before a certain Tobias Grimier had a chance to get a good hard look at those words, not before that boy had had a chance to see the key, and open the door, to complete, and utter, chaos.