I stood at the crossroad. The rain poured down heavily, and the moon offered only a fraction of its light tonight. The cold of winter touched my skin, like fingers trying to strip away not only my coat, but every warmth I had left in me.

The figure before me smiled.

"What do you want, Cassandra?" The voice cut through the rain, crystal clear.

"An audience," I said as the tradition demanded.

"It shall be granted if you pay the tribute," the figure replied, following the same tradition.

"Name your tribute," I said, as it should be.
But to my surprise, it did not demand what was usually required. Gold. Rare objects.

Instead, the smile widened. "Seven true answers."

I froze for a moment. The trap was already closing; I could feel it. But I had no choice. I needed to speak to him. I needed that audience.

The wind fell still, as if holding its breath to hear my answer.

Everything in me screamed, run. But I didn’t.

I stood there and exhaled slowly. Then, almost in a whisper, I said, "Ask your questions. My answers will be the tribute."

His sharp gaze moved over my face. "True answers, Cassandra. Or the tribute will be worthless."

I nodded, defiant. But I knew I couldn’t hide anything. Not here. Not now.

I raised my chin slightly. "Go on."

The figure smiled, as if bathing in it, and watched me with quiet amusement.

"When they looked at you… something did not arrive." It wasn’t even a question.

I knew instantly what was meant. Too easy. A test. Not of the truth itself, but of how I would speak it. Clever. More than I had anticipated, and it bothered me that I hadn’t seen it coming. I took a breath and let my pride settle before I answered.

"Kinship. And with it, belonging." My voice remained calm. Nothing new. Nothing dangerous to say.

The figure smiled, pleased with my answer. It made something tighten in me. But I said nothing. I just held its gaze.

"Second one, Cassandra. You will like this one."

A pause.

"It did not go unfelt."

Tension moved through my body. It threw the words at me like a challenge. I pressed my lips together and inhaled slowly. My eyes fixed on its sharp face.

"Yes, but feelings can be contained. Buried. Forgotten. Sometimes erased."

I stopped there. A risk.

The figure studied me, patiently waiting. It was not over yet.

"Rejection. Guilt. Shame. Anger. Pain." I paused, then threw the next words at him. "You want more? I think that already paints a picture, doesn’t it?"

The figure didn’t even flinch. Just a calm look at my face.

"Powerful feelings you name. We are pleased."

The voice remained neutral.

"And still… you hoped it would be different." A faint smile lingered on its lips. It enjoyed this.

My cheeks burned. It landed deeper than I expected. Silence stretched between us.

"Truth. Or the tribute is not paid." The word cut through the silence.

I closed my eyes for a moment, then straightened my posture.

"Yes, I did. For too long sometimes, and too short other times. Hope is not something I trust anymore." I sighed and added quieter, "Too fragile."

The figure stood still, but for a fraction of a second I saw its fingers twitching, as if it wanted to reach out. Instead, it asked the next question.

"You were there… but never entirely."

I swallowed hard. My chest tightened as guilt rose before I could stop it. I shook my head slightly, as if my body resisted the answer. But I knew it. I had asked that question myself too many times.

"There is a place in me I prefer not to share. It is shielded by something I cannot name."

The figure looked at me almost surprised.

"Interesting."

It glanced around briefly, then returned its focus. It was relentless. I could feel where this was leading.

"What took shape… in the space you left untouched." The voice was calm, nearly soothing.

I looked at it. This was not about power or strength. It was worse. Way worse. It was about that place.

My eyes burned. Tears rose, but I held them back. I would not let it see me break.

I pressed my hand against my chest.

"An abandoned graveyard of things that are not meant for me."

The words came sharper than I intended.

The figure tilted its head slightly.

"A graveyard. Fitting."

I said nothing. I looked at him and waited. The previous questions had already cost me. I could feel my control slip.

He noticed. Of course he did.

"And so… you kept it that way."

The words landed like a blade.

My breath caught, my cheeks burning. Not anger. Shame. He had led me here. Step by step. I knew it.

There was no turning back now.

"It is a dark place. Nothing you want to share or let anyone into."

A pause.

"A place I rarely visit myself. And when I do… it’s painful."

I looked to the ground, then back at him.

"It is the place that was never meant to be seen."

My voice was rough now, the words harder to hold.

He stepped closer and gently lifted my chin.

"All that distance… did it spare you?"

I couldn’t move.

I stared into his eyes and saw something I hadn’t expected. Compassion.

My lips trembled. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. The more he looked at me, the harder it became to hold myself together. He didn’t look away.

"No." My voice broke. "I did everything to forget this place. Everything."

My whole body shook.

"Every memory that told me I was not good enough is buried there. And everything I did to soothe it. No vow, no success, no cutting off, no matter how hard… nothing ever reached it."

I swallowed, but the words kept coming.

"I will die, and this godforsaken place will die with me."

The tears came, burning like fire on my skin.

"They all leave. Or they were never there at all. And I am done pretending it is coincidence."

My voice dropped, but did not steady.

"It’s me. It was always me."

His touch softened. Light as a feather, he wiped the tears from my face.

"No."

A pause.

"You were never met."

My mind tried to grasp it. The way he had said it made me question everything I knew. Then it pulled me under. My eyes searched as the meaning settled. My tears slowed, but felt sharper now.

"I was not chosen," I whispered.

A breath.

"It was never about me. It was about… not being seen. Not being chosen."

A sound escaped my lips, soft and devastating at once.

"I didn’t allow anyone to choose me."

My breath broke.

"I pushed them away… or ran away."

I couldn’t say more. The silence between us felt charged. He still held my chin, but his grip had softened.

"Yes," he said quietly. "You paid the tribute."

A pause.

"And the audience was already yours."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"It is not here, at the crossroad, what you truly seek."

His gaze held mine.

"This place decides between life and death. And your graveyard will not be taken by me tonight, Cassandra."

A pause.

"Even Death knows the difference between being chosen and merely taken."

Death.

He looked at me, not unkindly.

"Let someone choose you before we meet again."

A breath.

"Truly choose you."

His voice was softer now.

"It is not a graveyard."

A final pause.

"It never was, Cassandra. It is a garden."