The golden light spilled from the doorway, warm and welcoming. I took a deep breath—not to steady myself, but to feel alive. This time, there was no fear, no hesitation. I walked forward.
The moment I crossed the threshold, everything changed.
No longer halls, no longer tests. Just a vast field bathed in gentle sunlight. A quiet breeze moved through tall grass, carrying the scent of rain long gone. It felt like memory and dream stitched together—a place not made of time, but peace.
There, in the soft light, something shimmered.
Not a mirror—no, I had already faced that.
But a reflection all the same—subtle, soft, not to judge, but to remind.
It whispered without words:
"You made it."
And I smiled.
For once, I didn't feel the need to explain myself.
No reasons, no regrets.
I sat down under a tree, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes.
Not to escape, but to rest.
Because sometimes, peace isn't the end of the journey.
It's the prize you earn after walking through fire—and choosing not to burn.
And in that silence, I finally heard the quietest voice of all—
My own.
"I forgive you."
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