And so the day comes when she walks into that room.
She knows it well, for she has seen it many times before. Exquisitely adorned, filled with magnificent treasures. And a light, such a beautiful light.
Still, the room is cold. Vague somehow. So very distant.
She does not wear, but carries her beloved sword in both hands. When she reaches the place she must reach, she leans forward and gently places the sword on the floor. Then she rises slowly, and waits.
Nothing stirs. Nothing sparkles. There is only the sound of her breathing. She does not sigh or frown. She stands motionless, and waits. The other eyes avoid her. She knows. They turn to look down at what she brought.
“You are not welcome here!” the voice finally tells her. It is a beautiful voice. So beautiful and so forbidding.
She does not answer.
“What is this? This thing you brought?” the voice asks after a long pause.
She does not answer.
Finally, the silence breaks again with the echo of footsteps. The sword is picked up. The other eyes are upon it. The sword drops back to the floor.
“I see.” the voice tells her with a strict sigh. There is almost sadness there. Almost, but not quite.
She takes a deep breath, and slowly brings her hands together. She waits. A small pouch lands at her feet. She leans over and picks it up. She opens it. Inside, there is only dust.
“It’s not what you expected…” the voice whispers in a frosty tone. “But it was you who chose to come.”
Gently, she reaches inside the pouch. The other eyes are upon her now. She looks up. They watch her intently. Such beautiful eyes. Like the voice. Like this room and everything in it. Yet so vague, and distant, and forbidding.
Holding that intent gaze, she picks up a handful of dust and tosses it up into the air. Thousands of tiny stars suddenly appear and spread out through the room. They cover the walls and the ceiling, the lamps and the vases, the furnishings and the floor.
The other eyes widen with an almost tender bewilderment.
When the pouch is empty, she lets it drop to the floor. And still holding the other eyes, she smiles.
“You win.” she says.
She does not bow her head or lower her eyes. She does not reach. Not here. Not now. Still smiling, she turns around and walks away, with tiny lights sparkling in her hair and at her feet.
“But…” the voice calls out. Suddenly it gives way to an angry shout, to mocking laughter. And then, there is only silence.
For in a magnificent room full of stars, the other eyes finally understand emptiness.