At last, the machinations of court had been played out, and K. signed
the contract that would bind him to perpetual solitude.  But
unexpectedly, it was revealed that the contract was void.  The spirits
clamored for the destiny of K.  The winds blew wildly, at
cross-currents, and if anyone knew where things would fall, they did
not speak.

K. did not know which to make of his fatelessness.  Without a contract
bound to him, he had considerable power to nudge happening in the
direction which he would.  But he had no status and he no longer knew
what destiny he wished, save that which was unaskable.  And the wind
tore at him, each speck of dust driven into his flesh carried the
force of an invisible spirit.

The landscape had changed.  Where once two paths had stood before K.,
in utter clarity to where they lead, now there was chaos and a
trackless desert, any direction promising both nothing and none less
than the fulfillment of dreams.