I knew the place better than anything else. A spiral staircase descending into endless dark.
Water traced the walls - I could never tell if it was tears or summer rain.
As always, my steps became lighter the more I moved.

At the bottom, the air thickened. An abyss opened on the left - a dark maelstrom where perhaps everything
that ever existed ends or started. It was hard to tell. To the right, a door.
Wooden, old, smelling of burnt possibilities and fresh soil.
It was covered in symbols and fractals - old runes and things without names.

A step and I was there. A garden - yet more than a garden. Every landscape, even ones unseen,
seemed to stretch across the horizon, and at its heart, where I stood, bloomed a wild, untamed sanctuary.
Soft green hills rose and fell, bordered by trees older than memory.
I walked slowly through the flowers and grass and I could name them all by heart.
It was peaceful here - a beauty that cracked a heart open. Nearly unbearable to behold. Longing made touchable.
It wrapped around me like silk, clinging like a second skin - terrifying and tender all at once.

I felt it before I saw it. Forgotten memories walked this place in flesh, like me. Some ancient.
Some I had never met before. Some I knew too well. As I moved forward, a few tried to speak to me, but today,
I would not listen to the tales they had to tell. Today was a walk long overdue.

Finally, I reached the lake - the one I had bathed in long ago, when a full moon wrapped in eclipse
had granted me permission, to be cleansed by its waters. The dark-blue surface rippled softly, then faster.
Something was moving toward the light. I saw a hand first - pale skin, silver rings - then the rest appeared,
and she was there. Clothed in midnight blue, droplets forming a tiara. Her eyes were the same deep blue as the lake.
“You came,” she said, her voice like water running over smooth stones.
I nodded, unable to look away. “Yes,” I whispered. “I came - late, as you called me years ago.”
She smiled. “There is no time here. You know that.”

My eyes softened automatically when I looked at her. “Why did you call me?”
I asked, almost shy - not a trait I’m known for.
She tilted her head. “You walked the trials and crossed the threshold,” she said with her soft voice.
I gasped for air. “Yes,” I whispered. “And I wrote it all down.”
“A wise decision,” she replied with a knowing smile. “In case you ever run away again - these words bind you now.
There is no going back.” She paused, her tone half amused. “As you should know by now.”

I looked at her with a crooked smile, waiting for what would follow. “Your soul grew here,” she said.
“This was your sanctum.” She gestured to the garden and its vastness. “Now you must open it.”
My heart stopped for a moment. “Open it?” I echoed, fear threading through my voice.
“Yes,” she said, voice warm and compassionate.

“You built this over a very long time - each flower, every cloud, every star. Even every droplet.”
She lifted her hand, and water fell into the lake. “But this is a place of solitude and imagination
and when you walked behind the veil, it already began to vanish at the edges.” Her gaze stayed steady on mine.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “It can’t vanish - and if it does, I’ll build it anew.”

She chuckled softly, a sound like waves kissing the shore. “You know how this place was made?
It’s built from your feelings - a mirror of your soul. And your soul has changed now.”
Her voice grew tender. “You must open it to others, or it will crumble.”
I stood there, whispering, “Like me.”
Instead of answering, she brushed my cheek with her hand. My sigh was deep.
“How can I open the borders?” I asked.

“He knows,” she said, and nodded toward a silhouette on the horizon.
I turned and saw him - a dark shape against a twilight sky with two moons.
Still, silent, eternal - mine. More than a guardian of Thresholds. Observing, waiting.
My gaze returned to her. “Are you like him?” I asked.
She laughed - silver light dancing on water. “No,” she said. “I am what you could be.”
I stared, trying to fathom her words, then looked back at the dark silhouette.
“I don’t understand,” I murmured. She smiled gently. “You will - as will he.”

The lake rippled again. With a final look and a bright smile, she whispered:
“That’s the power of stories - your stories. They became true. And even old places like this
bow to such power and greet the one who shaped them anew. It is rare, but it happens.
Use it wisely, daughter.” Her voice softened like the fading tide. “These places exist since the beginning.
But all must go where they belong, or they fall - as others written in your human myths before.
So choose wisely - and break the seal of the door. All else - he knows.”

Then she slowly descended back into the lake. I watched until the surface grew still.
Then I looked toward the silhouette - still standing there, watching. Finally, I stood and walked slowly back to the door.
The runes and fractals swirled as I broke the seal. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to.
I moved upward, step by step, knowing where I would find him.
For the first time, my steps were lighter when I moved away from the wooden door.