This is not time.
This is a knot.
All directions converge here not because it was intended, but because otherwise it does not work. If enough lines are drawn, they will eventually intersect. This place — the intersection.
There is no hero here as a personality.
Here he is — possibility.
He has not yet said "yes."
He has not yet said "no."
He does not yet know that these words even exist.
He stands — if it can be called standing — between action and pause. The world around demands nothing. And that is why the moment is almost impossible: when there is no pressure, choice becomes pure.
No voice from the sky.
No serpent offering knowledge.
No command.
Only silence, in which one could… not continue.
If nothing had happened here, the story would still exist. But differently. Without heroes. Without wars. Without dragons. The world would continue repeating itself until it faded without witnesses. This was an acceptable option.
But a thought appears.
Not an idea.
Not a desire.
Interest.
And interest — this is always the beginning of a path without a goal.
In one of the layers that converge here, it looks like a man noticing for the first time that he can say a word and change another. In another — like a scientist realizing that the formula works. In a third — like a prophet understanding that silence can be interpreted.
It is the same moment, just with different interfaces.
And here occurs the smallest event in the entire book:
nothing stops.
Not because someone decided to continue.
But because continuation turned out to be easier than stillness.
The world makes a micro-movement.
Almost imperceptible.
Like a breath taken automatically.
And that is enough.
Afterwards, it no longer matters what exactly happens. Dragon? Cross? War? These forms are secondary. The main thing — the world is now in process.
If you rewind, you could call it original sin.
If forward — progress.
If viewed from the side — simply inertia.
The hero will appear later.
He will take responsibility for what happened long before him. This will be both his tragedy and his greatness: to be the face of a process that has no face.
He will think he is going somewhere.
In reality, he will be unfolding what has already been folded here.
And when he finally kills the dragon — or finishes it, or becomes it — it will look like a finale.
But it will be merely another breath.