And the King woke up in his great bed, and went from it to his Chief Guard. The Guard and the King’s soldiers went to the town, in the hours just before dawn. They forced the children from their beds and the babies from their mothers’ arms and killed them all. Yes, there were a few soldiers astonished and ashamed of what they were being asked to do. However, the Chief Guard killed the first one who objected and after that the others all obeyed him.

The King watched his soldiers returning with blood on their swords in the first orange light of dawn and waited for the voice to return, for the keys to the great Crystal Castle to be placed in his hand, and for his wealth, wit, and cleverness to last forever.

But he never heard the voice again: and only a short time later, some people say a year, some say only months, the King was taken ill with a terrible rotting, wasting, shrivelling, disease. He collapsed in his beautiful palace and died without regaining consciousness, as far as his doctors, guards and servants could tell.

When the King regained awareness, he was immersed in shadow, in something vast, dark and incorporeal that loomed over him. He could not see anything of himself, but it was if he was in great halls, with a black floor, and dark walls, so high he could not see any roof above. The walls (were they walls?) were polished but yet absorbed all light, so it was impossible to tell how far apart they were and how far they stretched into the distance.

He became aware of two voices speaking. One was male, but not a man, one female, but not a woman They seemed a long way off but they could now be heard clearly.

‘This is the one,’ came the female voice, ‘another who would live forever. More petty and selfish than the last one, less trouble perhaps, but more cruel’. Her voice was quiet, a monotone, not cruel or scornful, but almost resigned. Her very lack of expression somehow felt like condemnation to the King.

The male voice was not raised, but it sounded to the King like the noise of mountains falling, like echoes in far underground caves, like the very earth groaning. ‘Well, the offer was clear, and he has accepted the outcome by his actions.’

‘So be it,’ said the female voice, ‘his fate was woven when his soldiers did the deed’. With that the King felt her presence leave. It was if a certain softness had been withdrawn, a rug taken away, and he was naked in cool clear air. He sensed something, someone, looking closely at him, even though he had no body, nothing to see.

‘Who is there? Are you death?’ He found he was able to speak, though he couldn’t say he had a voice, or anything to speak with.

‘This is death. You have died’ came the mountainous, calm voice, ‘I am not Death; Fate perhaps, Doom would be better’

‘I cannot be doomed! I was promised in my dream! I am the King who will live forever in the Great Crystal Castle! The King tried to shout, to be angry, but you couldn’t shout in here, the sound just vanished, like when you throw a stone into soft mud and it doesn’t make a splash, just a gentle ‘gloop’ and its gone. ‘What will you do to me?’ he said more softly.

‘Me, do to you? Nothing,’ said the voice, ‘what happens to you, you do to yourself. What happens to you depends on a test. You can choose between the Crystal Castle or these halls, where you will find judgement, rest and healing if you will’

‘Set me the test, let me pass it, I want the Castle!’

‘Do you indeed? That is the more difficult of the two roads that lie before you’

‘Yes!’ And this time the King almost did raise a shout.