Rumi lifted the curtain and found the room before him shrouded in darkness.
When the curtain fell shut again, he saw a sapling sprouting from the center of the floor.
Golden leaves grew upon it, reflecting streams of light through the dark chamber like fireflies, like gleaming stars.
The scattered halo made his vision clearer. When he turned back, he found that the red silk curtain had vanished, replaced by a marble wall that shimmered with luster.
The sounds by his ears had been cut off, as though he had stepped into the heart of [Silence]. The stillness was almost frightening.
Yet he could still hear his own breathing.
It was a little rushed, filled with hope.
He was about to have his wish granted.
The Queen flipped through the script in her hands again and again. When she saw Rumi, a flippant smile curled across her lips, as though mocking his past. "This is your story."
"Yes. It just doesn't have the final part."
Though the ending had been fabricated, the story itself was real.
His garden really was now filled with sunflowers.
The flowers had welcomed their sun, only to send away their gardener.
"You wished for your mother."
"Yes."
"But what makes me more curious is what sort of wish you truly intend to make."
The Queen sized Rumi up. Her teasing manner made him deeply uncomfortable.
He felt that neither he nor his wish had been respected, but he needed her help and could only accept the mockery.
"I want to bring back my mother." He had repeated those words countless times already.
Yet the Queen merely shook her head with a smile. As she stirred the golden leaves, a dark-red fruit formed on the roots, like a drop of murky blood. "No, what I mean