Day 6 of 360 Days of Symbols. Today’s symbol? Comet.
They led him through the bronze double doors, the smell of stardust in the air like the afterbirth of an explosion, his knees dragging on the glass floor, the stars below them infinite just outside, threatening to devour them with eternity. They had him by the arms, and he could barely move, they had stunned him so much his knees and legs stopped working days ago.
“You will stand,” the tall one said, “When you reach her chambers.”
“I can’t stand,” he muttered, his words barely words, mostly whispers.
Behind the door was a long hall of pillars that glowed with a golden light, reflecting a fire that burned for ages. That light made each pillar like a sun. Yet it was just an echo of another light, a reflection, a refraction, a movement through time and space. Just an empty simulacra of the real light.
That real light was at the far end. They moved him further and further down the hall. Ceiling and walls and floor all glass, all showing the space that sang around them, star upon star, galaxy upon distant galaxy. Clusters of light and darkness. He found strength to stand to walk. The light at the end commanded him and he obeyed. No will to deny the light. You cannot deny the light.
Finally, finally. The end. The throne was up, up, up. She sat at the top of it, and the flame of her hair spun down and around the throne. It was a snake of fire, that hair, a snake of sun, a snake of light. It went on for ages, wrapping around and around. And there she sat, golden skin, glowing down at him. Her clothes long since burned away by the light of her hair.
“Lady Comet,” they said, lifting him up, “We removed him from the prison just as you said.”
“Good, good,” her voice was ancient, star born.