He was alone. He had seldom felt so alone. And when he had recovered sufficiently from his surprise at his guide’s silent departure, he found that he was standing before the great gate of the city.
He must have passed through the gate several times already, but he was only aware of it now for the first time. It was such an imposing gate, rising high into the clouds, fashioned of gold and diamond and flashing steel. It was a gate so mighty that it seemed designed for colossal beings. He wondered how he’d had the nerve to pass through it several times without noticing.
Now that he was aware of the gate, he found himself unable to move. Surmounted by a giant dragon with fiery eyes and metal claws and fantastic wings as wide as the rooftop of a house, the gate was truly terrifying. But the terror of the gate was also beautiful. Its beauty made the terror worse.
Along the grilles, the metal bands and on the niches were figures wrought in red gold, figures of ancient heroes, of monsters, heads bristling with a network of spikes and snakes. All the figures stared at him menacingly.
The gate seemed so alive with intent that he wasn’t sure what to do. He felt that he had no right to pass through. He felt that he needed permission. And yet the gate was wide open, and there was no one in sight.