The jungle was so green and dark that Jan felt almost as if they were walking underwater. It was quiet, too—unnaturally quiet. No breeze stirred the leaves, which hung limp and still. No howl nor roar, no cry of bird, buzz of insect, hiss of snake, nor chatter of monkey disturbed the awful silence, which was so heavy it made Jan afraid to speak. The only sound was that of their own passing, and even that seemed oddly muted.

Jan stopped. A huge web blocked their path, its strands as thick as his thumbs. He turned aside, but the jungle was too dense for them to go around. Nervously, looking above and to the side for any sign of the creature that had woven it, Jan sliced at the sticky silk until he had made an opening through which they could pass.

And still all was silent. They walked on, Samos keeping one hand on Jan’s shoulder.

Another web, and yet another. And then, a hundred paces past the last web, the jungle opened.

Jan caught his breath in wonder. In the center of the clearing stood a building of astonishing beauty. Made of shining white stone, with broad steps leading to a golden door, it stretched high above the trees. Ornate carvings of gods and monsters decorated the walls. Whether it was a temple or a palace, he could not say. He knew only that it was wonderful.

He thought he heard the murmur of voices as he and Samos climbed the steps. But he could see no one.

The golden door opened easily before he even touched it.

They entered the building and walked through long curving corridors until, finally, they came to another great door. Jan waited for a moment. When the door did not open, he reached forward and pushed on it.

It swung inward without a sound.

They entered a huge, high chamber, its painted blue ceiling so far above them that it seemed like a sky. Around the chamber, in niches carved in the walls, stood statues of men frozen in horrible postures, as if they had been turned to stone at the most awful moment of their lives.

A wide carpet, blood red, ran the length of the chamber, all the way to a platform mounted by a series of five broad steps. The carpet continued up the steps and stopped at the foot of a golden throne.

On the throne sat Jan’s father.

It took a moment for Jan to realize who it was, for he had not seen his father’s face in ten years, and he himself had been only three years old at the time. But soon enough he recognized the straight nose, the strong chin, and most of all the look in his father’s eyes, which made it seem as if some part of him was always looking into the distance, looking for something he could never find. Then Jan was seized by a strange welter of emotions—joy at finding his father, but also sudden, unexpected anger at the man for having been gone so long with no word. Underneath all that, and equally unexpected, was a kind of terror. What will he think of me? Jan wondered. Will he even know me?