The question repeated itself again and again- countless many times- but it was all unnecessary. Whether she knew it or not, she had already made up her mind. There was no helping it, she had already decided to do it. All that remained was to go down and answer the door. All she had to do was let Irene in. 

And she wanted to do it, every inch of her now sweaty body, and every bit of her impassioned soul wanted to go and answer that door. Still, a small tiny voice, almost inaudible, warned her against it. These emotions which surged inside her were wrong; they all alluded to an innate vulgarity which was peaking beneath the surface layer. They could not be anything but wrong and vulgar, and she knew it.

Why?

Because it dealt with the discarding of this present world. Wendy began to cool off and her heart rate decreased; she closed her eyes and breathed slowly. Exhale, inhale. Exhale, inhale.

She was coming to a conclusion: she was going to say no. Biting her lip, she asked for help- for a higher power to intercede and give her the answer she needed, the will to say no. 

While her eyes remained shut, she saw a light flicker. It was a flash that came from the inside, not an external source. She focused on it and saw that there was two lights, precious and good to look at; in no way were they too intense as to blind her. Her heart began to pound hard and the sweat once more drenched her body.

The lights were the eyes of she: Irene.

Wendy became filled with inspiration. She felt her soul lifting from its earthbound constraints. A sudden thought popped inside her mind. This was what her brother had seen through the lens of the kaleidoscope. No wonder he couldn't refuse her; no wonder he kept her all to himself. It, Irene's gaze, possessed an innate gravity. She was the sun and all people alive on Earth were tiny, insignificant satellites, not even planets- she was that much greater. Everyone naturally revolved around her. To deny her would be to deny nature, to deny reality.

 "Yes," she said in her heart. This feeling, this current of emotion and spirituality was the intended order of things. There was no other option but to let herself go and be taken by that entity whose power created worlds.

It was a spellbinding trance Wendy existed in, a state from which no one could fathom to break. Even so, the sound of bells dared to try. They were at first loud, crashing like planets at the dawn of creation; the voice it carried thundered across the whole universe, "Guard your heart! The eyes deceive, but so does the heart!"

 Wendy meditated on the meaning of the words, but what else could they mean but to unite her essence with that wonderful and supremely better world? What else could they mean but to consent to Irene and let her in?

Even so, the voice continued heroically on like a warrior shouting at his enemy before his dying breath. It began to decrease in severity. The chime of bells began to sound weaker and quieter, duller and hollow. The voice of the archangel was no longer a trump, it was a tiny whisper that was easily suppressed.

It felt so right; gone was the nuisance of moral conviction. In this better reality, there was no right or wrong, no love or hate; there was no law, not of morality, nor even of physics. In this universe held within Irene's eyes existed something that transcended finite existence. Her world was not carnal, it was spiritual, involving the core of life which feeds her existence.

 "Take me there," Wendy said. She suspired like a woman in the midst of adultery, but her infidelity was with spirit, not flesh. She forfeited her life.

Her body collapsed and she expired, her soul drawn to the light in Irene's eyes where it would remain in a collective of souls she had gathered across time and space.