A Reign of Steel by Morgan Rice

him could dimly feel his mind
creating these places as he went, and it was hard to separate the two; Thor
felt as if he were standing at a strange intersection between his own mind and
the external reality of the world. It was scary to him to realize the depth of
power of his mind. If he could create anything, that meant he could create the
most glorious kingdoms with the snap of a finger. Yet if he had a moment of
weakness, that meant that, in just a few moments, he could create the darkest
kingdoms. That terrified him. How could he keep his mind filled with positive
thoughts all the time?
    They
crested a hill and both stopped, looking out. Thor gasped, awestruck at the sight.
He could hardly fathom it: spread out below was King’s Court. It was a perfect
replica, so real that Thor was certain it was the real thing. It looked more glorious
than he had ever seen it, thousands of knights in shining armor standing before
the ancient stone walls, standing before the portcullis, lining the parapets.
There were more knights than he’d ever seen, glorious warriors protecting a
glorious city.
    King
MacGil stood beside him and smiled.
    “Your
mind is a beautiful place, Thorgrin,” he said, looking out and admiring the
view. “I never had that many knights in King’s Court. It seems you have increased
their ranks!”
    King
MacGil threw back his head and laughed.
    “In
fact, I don’t think I have ever seen that many knights at once,” he added. “The
shining of their armor blinds me. You truly are a warrior at heart.”
    Thor
had a hard time believing his mind was creating this; it all seemed so real, so
perfect, more real than anything he’d ever seen.
    Thor
set out on the path with MacGil, the road perfectly immaculate, heading toward
the gates. As they went, thousands more knights appeared on the road and stiffened
at attention, lined all up and down the road. Trumpets sounded in the distance.
    They
crossed the bridge, over the moat, under the portcullis, and into King’s Court.
As they passed beneath the massive, arched stone gates, waiting to greet them
was a single person, smiling, hand outstretched to them.
    Gwendolyn.
    Thor
beamed at the sight of her. She looked more beautiful than ever, with her long
blonde hair, bright blue eyes, wearing a regal dress, smiling and holding one
hand out for Thor.
    Thor
hurried to her and embraced her and she leaned in and kissed him, hugging him
tight.
    Then
they turned and walked through King’s Court together, King MacGil falling in
beside his daughter.
    “I’m
glad that you envision my daughter in such a beautiful light,” King MacGil
whispered to him. “I see her the same way.”
    “Thorgrinson,”
Gwendolyn whispered, clasping one hand around his arm, leaning in and kissing
his cheek. He could feel her love for him, and it revived him.
    “Gwendolyn,”
he said, clasping her hand, holding it tight. Suddenly, Thor remembered. “Where’s
Guwayne?”
    No
sooner had he spoken the words then there came the cry of a baby. Thor looked
over to see his son in Gwendolyn’s arms. She held him gently, cradling him,
smiling.
    Thor
reached out and took the boy, who leapt into his arms, bigger and older than
Thor remembered. Guwayne hugged Thor, and Thor hugged him back.
    “Daddy,”
Guwayne said into his ear.
    It
was the first time Thor had ever heard him speak. It was surreal.
    Suddenly,
Gwendolyn and MacGil stopped, and Thor turned to see why. As he saw, he
stopped, too.
    Standing
before them was a man who meant more to Thor than just about anyone: Argon. He
stood dressed in his white cloak and hood, holding his staff, his eyes shining
as he stared back, expressionless.
    “Thorgrinson,”
Argon said.
    Thor
reached out and handed Guwayne back to Gwen, but as he looked down, he saw that
Guwayne was gone. Vanished.
    Thor
looked over at Gwendolyn, but saw that she was gone, too. So was King MacGil.
In fact, as he spun, he saw that everyone—all the knights, all the people that
had