power

TO TRUST IN YOURSELF

 

 

Power has been an interesting chapter.

Cassandra hasn't conquered anyone.

No kingdoms have fallen.

Well, there were the Bloodwitches.

But they were becoming troublesome.

Mostly, Cassandra has been

discovering that power doesn't always

require quite as much... force as she

once imagined.

This has been an adjustment.

 

For a woman who once considered

walls a perfectly reasonable

architectural feature of the heart, this

is considerable progress.

Now we come to the last story in Power.

There is a garden.

There is a veil.

And somewhere beyond it, something

Cassandra has been moving toward for

longer than she knows.

She has one thing left to do.

I suspect she already knows what it is.

Whether she'll do it is another matter.

Cassandra does like to keep things

interesting.

the garden beyond the veil

 

 

I was a warrior once, a Queen of

Thorns, until I wasn’t. Another

conquered her, softer and fiercer:

Love. And I could no longer contain her.

She brought longing, soft and gentle,

yet cutting deeper than fear. I drowned

in it silently.

I felt it in my bones, a call through the

echoes of time. Something was waiting,

and all I could do was send my own

longing back as an answer.

No words could contain it.

 

I gazed at the stars and knew: that is

where I must go, no matter the cost.

A vow, somehow renewed.

That night I dreamed of eternity.

The next morning I wept rivers, the

weight of solitude pressing on me.

Unbearable, yet chosen, carved into

me like a symbol of old.

 

That was when I glimpsed the garden

beyond the veil for the first time,

only for a heartbeat, and then it was

gone.

 

Days became eons. A voice, maybe not

even mine, whispered:

“You must choose.” I sat in the dark,

and fear rose like a swirling tide.

Yet longing did not stop; it was

stronger.

 

And in the silence that followed, echoes

stirred: a kiss once pressed to my brow,

blazing with love.

a voice naming me wanderer, saying

only, “I see you.”

a shadow beneath the ash trees,

commanding, “You must choose.”

a warmth brushing my heart, ancient

as stone, unyielding as starlight.

 

Preparations, I thought. Perhaps a test

of trust.

And I wondered: was it always the same

one?

I could not tell. But it was true, I had to

choose. So I chose.

Not the mundane, not the fairytale.

A real love, edged with fire and will,

yet tender enough to soothe and heal.

One with edges and flaws, intense and

calm alike.

 

Then the veil appeared, thin as mist,

the one I had to cross.

My steps were small, a walk of

surrender to lay it all down at the gate.

I stood trembling. Love pressed sharp

against my ribs.

But this time, I did not turn away.

I let it cut me open.

 

I placed my hand on the gate and

whispered, “Yes. I long. I always have.”

Then he was there. Eyes steady upon

me.

I knew them; I had always known them.

He reached out, brushing my cheek.

I shivered. “You… you waited.”

His lips curved in a faint smile.

“It was your choice. Always.”

The veil rippled. Love surged, but I did

not resist.

I surrendered. 

 

At the threshold, he kissed my

forehead, love and devotion in his eyes.

The garden unfolded in radiant silence,

ash trees dreaming, roses unfurling,

dahlias crowned in midnight.

 

I crossed, and the garden breathed

around us, silver rivers singing, ash

trees bowing in dream, roses climbing

the night sky. The black dahlias glowed,

and for the first time, the ache in me

was not emptiness but fullness. He

took my hand, and the world stilled.

 

Beyond us, constellations shifted,

weaving patterns unseen.

And I knew: some vows stretch farther

than gods, farther even than time.

The veil closed behind, soft as a sigh.

Ahead, the garden opened, endless,

waiting.

That’s where you will find us now,

in the garden beyond the veil.

She crossed.

No battle.

No victory.

No one defeated.

Cassandra may need a moment to

adjust to this.

 

She is rather good at all three.

This required something different.

She had to step forward without

knowing.

No certainty.

No proof.

No convenient guarantee from the

universe.

Rather inconsiderate, really.

 

And still, she crossed.

Not because she wasn't afraid.

She was.

Not because she knew what waited

beyond the veil.

She didn't.

She trusted enough to find out.

And she was brave enough to risk

being wrong.

There have been easier choices in

Cassandra's life.

Admittedly, she hasn't always taken

those either.

 

Then there is him.

Again.

A kiss on the forehead.

A voice she knows.

Eyes she somehow remembers.

Cassandra is beginning to suspect

something.

She's not entirely wrong.

I'm going to enjoy leaving it there.

 

She also believes some vows reach

farther than time.

An ambitious claim.

But notice what he tells her.

“It was your choice. Always.”

Quite.

The gate opened.

Cassandra crossed.

 

What waited beyond it mattered.

But so did the courage to reach for it

before she knew.

Sometimes trust needs courage before

it can become a step.

Cassandra took hers.