“You may open your eyes now. The curse has been lifted,” she said. “This ceremony is a celebration of all that you have accomplished. The council will award your sacrifice with glory. Open your eyes and accept the blessings of the council,” she continued triumphantly.
“You’ve lived your entire life with this burden. It is time for you to gain your deserved reprieve. Unshackle your chains and live,” the guardian said. She was getting increasingly apprehensive. This is not the reaction she expected. She had hoped he would open his eyes by now, but with every sentence she uttered, the more strength he dedicated to keeping them shut.
“I have watched over your struggle since you were born. I have seen the difficulty this scourge has put you through. I understand the unbearable suffering we have caused you for decades,” the guardian pleaded.
“But you have to realize that I am giving you a way out. You have paid your dues. You have earned this moment,” she continued. The guardian was has never experienced a case where a supplicant refused to let go of the curse when given the opportunity.
The guardian shifted uncomfortably in her throne awaiting a response that never came. His silence left a small but noticeable fracture in her facade. She was left with no other choice. “Call the guards in,” she jeered. Her discomfort turned into bitterness.
“I hereby sentence you to the Iron Garden for disobeying divine decree. Your punishment will be severe, but fitting your crimes,” she declared. “I hope one day you get to see how the council acted solely in your benefit. You merely have to open your eyes,” the guardian bellowed with disdain.
She was getting comfortable again in her throne. The cracks in the facade rapidly plastered and repaired. These supplicants don’t know the weight we carry she thought to herself, as the offender was carried away by the guards to the Iron Garden.
The Art of Leaving 