Atreyu buried his head in his hands0
Atreyu buried his head in his hands.
No one who reaches or has reached that pavilion can say how he got there. The last stretch of the way must come to him as a gift.
Suddenly Atreyu was in the doorway. He went in — and found himself face to face with the Golden-eyed Commander of Wishes.
She was sitting, propped on many cushions, on a soft round couch at the center of the great round blossom. She was looking straight at him. She seemed infinitely frail and delicate. Atreyu could see how ill she was by the pallor of her face, which seemed almost transparent. Her almond-shaped eyes, the color of dark gold, were serene and untroubled. She smiled. Her small, slight body was wrapped in an ample silken gown which gleamed so white that the magnolia petals seemed dark beside it. She looked like an indescribably beautiful little girl of no more than ten, but her long, smoothly combed hair, which hung down over her shoulders, was as white as snow.