Chronicle V of the Pleiade's Daughters

The children of the forest are gathering at the dawn of a new day gifted by an other visitor from a realm far, far away. At the top of the cascading brook, the huge standing stone is the favorite area where an other story will be told. Our story-teller is known to appear with the rays of the sunrise and with the early birds singing the joy to be alive. With these rays of golden light, with the arms lifted in a cross shape, our witness of the hidden consciousness standing in the morning air. Then, the story-teller takes a long breath, closing his eyes, he lets his essence fly with his words :
« In the icy winds of the high sky, where the blue hue is mixed with sparks of stars on a tapestry colored with dark blue, the two mythic creatures are hugging each other with their arms while their wings keep their full length stretched in the windy caress. The draconic embracing lovers are standing tight together in a nice dance with aerial lightness, where the grace of their shapes are locked in a timeless moment with intimate sounds radiating from their chest, neck and nasal cavities. Their eyes of fire stare at their reflected soul in perfect union. Here, in a total fusion, their dynamic of male and female essence is forgotten in a present offered by their love. One with the wind of the sky they dive in, they pierce some time a layer of cloud. »
The story-teller poses his feet with grace in the shape of a V up side down. He stretches his arms over his head to show his hands imitating the two mythic creatures in their free dive towards the ground.
« In a vertiginous speed, the two intertwined lovers let their body and mind surrendered in this blessed instant of true love. The far surface of the earth is closing fast and soon, the dive is becoming a momentum of faith at their instinct of survival. But more likely, their faith lays on their love which is their only nutriment at this very moment. The magic and its mighty power is flowing all along their veins and nerves. Mother-Earth’s deadly surface is at a micro instant of the two passionate beings. The time seems to stop for them. Their glances, their hums, their caresses, their intertwining tails… both as one, their senses, their hearts burning with love and enlightenment, all of their essence is transmuted in one flash of light and thunder. A big bang is heard with a lightning strike of pure chemical reaction in one reality, one state of consciousness with the Source, with Mother-Earth… becoming all one. That is why the magnitude of their acts is so in perfect harmony with the micro matter of their Mother, in fusion with their 5 elements, in reunion with their common inner structure, in voyage through the Ether space in between all mass of matter. »
The story-teller is rocking his body, hugging himself with a passionate tenderness with his two arms across over his chest. His large robe of Consciousness Traveler gives contrast on his hands laying on his shoulders. A golden ray of morning light flicks on him while two swallows fly around his head, singing their love, joy and kindness. The flight of the birds draws an 8 over his head. Looking up at his winged companions, he knows the sign of their presence. Suddenly, he shouts loud :
« Oh! Great Dragons, Guardians of the celestial portal of the seven Pleiade’s Daughters… Oh! Great Mystic Lords, messengers from the Inner Earth, you carry with you the universal wisdom… and with an astonishing speed, both legendary creatures hit the rocky surface! »
Shouts of dismay get out of mouths twisted in denial, horror and pure frighten shrieking young voices. The story-teller emphases all the mood as he let himself dive over the ground like a lifeless leaf. But, an heart beat later, he jumps back on his feet, in a ready position and slowly lift his arms over himself :
« A loud shock wave of blue light and a rumble are radiating from where the mythic duo literally disappear from sight. But despite what it seems, for magical beings, the reality is far more extended then what is shown. »
As a true descendant of his mother queen Maïa, the story-teller uses his stars heritage and let flow the inspired words :
« In many slices of lives to come, you will all, children of the stars, rely more and more on your inner instinct to act through the very essence of all realities. The true believing on your inner powers will open doors where a wall of stones stands. The free expression of Love will enlight any darkness hiding the immortality of your soul. »
Like a snake snapping in the air, all the body of the story-teller reacts from the discharge of draconic essence and he dances at the inner rhythm beating in his veins. In fusion with the remembrance of the two mighty legendary dragons, he spits his words in a chant harmonized with life itself freed through all planes of the multiverse :
« From my inner, I spell out the Sleeping Magic…From the inner Earth, psalms of symbolic signs spring in life and take flight in our dreams… From our human essence, eons of anger and frustration are transformed by the fire of change where the air carries words… like sounds from songs of birds. »
It is at this moment that the story-teller stops like being hit by an invisible wall…and disappears from all naked eyes glazing at the empty place left underneath the stars hidden behind the veil of the blue sky. All the children attending lift their head and look in silence at the inspirational Source of their beloved and Consciousness Traveler story-teller… the one who will never fail to tell an other page of the Chronicles of the Pleiade’s Daughters, since it is his reason to live.

End of the Chronicle V of the Pleiade’s Daughters.

Renatus, your chronicler.

Chronicle IV of the Pleiade's Daughters

All the valley is hidden by the smoke spreading out from different points where sylvan villages are burning. A morbid silence is the burden of the wing of death hovering in the shape of a menacing gray cloud trapped in between the stones wall mountains.

Once, this valley was a peaceful retreat for the monks, guardians of the Flame of Life. Here was a sure and secluded corner for all pilgrims from the four winds of this northern land. But the Flame of Life has been stolen by invaders.

The night is crawling in through the eastern rocky white teeth crowned by eternal snow. In the center of the forested valley, a small area has been ignored by the dark servants. This area, known as "The Prime Willow Tree". This area is invisible to the evil eye but a beacon of Light to the pure heart. The prime wise tree is the mother of this evolving forest. The Divine Consciousness of the Old Wise Mother Tree is in total communion with her pure children: Sacha the Unicorn, Mirhillia the Fairy, Phoenatus the Knight Guardian (actually a shape shifter also called by his wild friends the Inky Bear).

With their small army of pure hearts and souls, they wait for the call of faith. Laying their back on the enormous trunk, they all harmonise their pulse of life with the one of the Sacred Willow, their Mother Tree, their source of power that will be unleashed in a moment. Like a ring of protection, a large body of water surrounds the willow. Underneath the surface, Osirian the Nymph is busy with all water spirits. They spread their power among the underground life throughout a huge sponge of interconnected tunnels and worm holes, like the inside of a bone. The empathic link in between Mother Tree's roots and Osirian is the main advantage of all these defenders of life. In the twinkling of an eye, an armada of water spirits is created.

The tribe chief of the creatures from the shadows is overexcited by the results of the attack. The victory has been easy, without resistance. He is looking at his warriors showing already a frenetic fever of vanquishers. Time is at hand to celebrate. It is smelling good. All these villages are burning but one thing is missing: The pleasure to see fear in the eyes of the vanquished, since there was nobody to embrace the fury of the shadow warriors. And the chief thinks:"Where are the famous Dryads who would be shared with luxuriance and pleasure in between the legs of my soldiers? Where are these Faeries who could amuse our children with their cut off wings? Where is the queen ambassadress, the nice blond Nymph Osirian saved for my own privacy, chained to my couch receiving my seeds of victory?"

A deep tremble distracts the military chief and he turns back towards the camp, where a thick wall of mist crawls in between the trunks and the giant ferns. Suddenly, screams are heard from the gray fog, with no sound of irons or shields smashing on each other. All these veiled men at arm fall in a last terror scream, defeated by death without honor, alone in the gray realm of lost souls.

The chief lifts high his long sword in front of his forehead with a grin at his face to show his fearless glance, trying to pierce the thickness of mystery surrounding him. The quiet calm becomes unbearable. Pearling down on his forehead and temples, a dew of fear slides down on his dirty lizard skin in steady flow with the rhythm of his heart beat overwhelming all his senses in a storm of fearful squeezing grasp at his throat. He feels the last grain of sand passing behind his dry tongue. His hour glass is emptying and he knows that his devious horned god has abandon him here, to die alone in a mist of silence, with no slave to fear his victory.

The swift attack emerges from underneath and the roots becomes traps holding his ankles. With a blank momentum, the sword hit the air frenetically in a swirl of mist. With a telluric power the Sacred Forest swallows him as quick as a lizard tyrant of the wild. Loosing the grip on his sword, his claws hit deep the green carpet of the sylvan temple. Catching two hands full of useless humus, he feels the cold water reaching at him under the forest floor. Taking a last breath, he knows that water will submerge him soon and WHAM! In the aquatic land he dives in, opening his eyes on the ultimate reward of his conquest: Osirian herself is standing in the weightlessness of the greenly waters with her sensual hairs floating like a dancing murena and welcoming the brave reptilian warrior. A last smile drawn on attracting lips disappears in a cloud of red blood bersting around. The soldier sees well the impact of the lethal ray of Light radiating from the Osirian's chest. Piercing like a lance, the rays open the flesh of his body and he feels well the last bliss of the Light Carrier. Osirian lays a last glance to her enemy mixed with hope and faith. Slowly the reptilian's vision becomes gray and the lightness of his soul is felt again, on this cross over path where your destiny has an appointment with your immortal soul.

An empathic wave comes from the inner forest.

The Prime Willow Tree trembles when a fresh wind caresses her leaves in a sign of a new era. All present souls reunited at the base of her trunk are looking at each other with a real feeling of relief. The enemy has been dealt with. All these thousand of invaders have been embraced by Mother-Earth. The unification of the evil souls with Nature’s Spirits has been successful. The Pilgrims of the Light may come back from the portals of the Pleiade’s Daughters.

Sacha, the Unicorn, approaches Phoenatus the knight. They both lay their flank on the skin of their Mother-Tree and hear back the new rhythm of life surging from the heart of their Source. Unleashed from this new fusion of souls from the shadows, Faeries and Wood Elves are back again in their sylvan domain. Dancing lights announce a lot of changes in the air. Regenerated from an unexpected source, the valley will open her green branches towards the sky. From the summit of the rocky mountains some shape shifters are already on their flight,, gliding on the warm stream of air. These are the prime Druids in a mission of total blessing of the Sacred Forest. The marriage of the evil souls with Nature Spirits has been successful.

Now is a time for celebration in a  recognition of the powers at stake. The Druids shape shifters may repopulate the green realm of the valley. Now the males may lay their seeds in their Sacred Wombs, guided by the new Light of Nature Spirits. A season of peaceful growing may blossom in a deep wave of echoing memories from eons of creation, transformation, alteration, innovation… where nothing is lost and everything is created. The night sky may offer his mantle to the milky way. The bright stars may shine like diamonds. The lady Moon may circle on her path through the night, in a complete blessing, harvesting any signature of any resilient energies left behind. The grid of power may root itself in the core of each Singing Cristal left as seeds, in Mother Cybellia’s Sacred Womb, eons ago.

THE END

Author’s notes :

The story-teller is comfortably sit on the main branch, at the core of the foliage, in the arms of his Mother-Tree. He rolls back his parchment and touches his chest with the palm of his hand and with the wind he disappears since he is as light as any dream. In few moments, this incident of the attack of the shadows is just an other  event of the past where he will come back in full consciousness to tell his tale to the inner children of the future.

Good-bye, loyal reader.

Chronicle III of the Pleiade’s Daughters

Swirls of fog dance beside the canoes approaching the land. Gray silhouettes of mountains are the landmark for Cailla, who is at one moment from a revelation. Since the begining of his walk on the Sacred Land of the Pleiade’s Daughters, the ambiance is mystic and touched with magic. It is so early in the morning that the Sun do only spray a golden crown behind the huge spine of the rocky wall. A thick mist hide the vast wilderness and the pride of the Yew-trees Forest circling the river. Sometime canoes seem to fly through a cloud of gray shapes distorted by the dramatic sound of wild beasts on the land. The air carries different aromas from the low lands. Often, once in shallow waters, enormous fangs and skeletal arms menace the travelers with their monstrous forms seeming to go closer over the tiny humans. Half hidden under the misty surface, they are every where on the shore and half submerged. All these trunks and branches intertwined together like a natural wall to forbid the access to the land. Laying there since many moons, all these dead Yew-trees are really acting like guardians of the Sacred Womb.
Canoes are slowly sliding on the calm surface, in silence. Suddenly, Cailla lifts his left arm as a signal to stop, showing his fist. He is very focused with his eyes glaring at the water…He opens his hand with the five digits extended, meaning WE HAVE FIVE VISITORS. At the same moment all seven canoes stop abruptly. More likely, an hidden force, underneath the mirror of the water, hold them still. Cailla’s companions know well how to behave on this encounter at hand. The respect and a peacefull attitude is a must, because the veil in between the young humanity and the invisible world is wide open. A simple act of violence or a lack of consciousness might be fatal, dealing with the Guardian Spirits of Nature in this Sacred place.
Just one small swirl on the surface, in front of the Cailla’s canoe is enough to tell him who is coming out. He spreads at once his two arms in a welcome gesture. And a beauty for mortal eyes emerges from the dark water. With grace and weightlessness a female creature levitates over the river and lays her hands in Cailla’s ones. A magic moment occure where two worlds are glancing at each other…with both a smile of joy to exchange.
« Diaphanous Osirian! » Says the Traveler.
« Consciousness Strider Cailla! Your call is welcomed at the Sacred Womb. »
As usual…with an extreme precision both consciousnesses connect like two magnets and a wonderfull union in a timeless mood is occuring : Since the Pleidiade’s queen, Maïa, departed, the six other feys are still bounded to the young Earth keeping an eye on her children. Otherwise the chaos would be a daily nightmare. Now is the time for Cailla to become the Light Traveler. He will be gifted, lifes after lifes, to share the Knowledge of the Stone of Light from the Sacred Womb.
While Osirian the Nymph and Cailla are in a rare embrace, a new sound buzzes around the tree-skin boats. From nowhere appear four tiny winged creatures, as beautifull as some maidens originating from a Divine Dream. Their milky skin is amazingly glowing in the mist. One of them glides slowly over the Cailla’s shoulder and whispers in his ear :
« Welcome home, brother Cailla. I am Mirhilia, your fairy sister. Let’s proceed towards the Sacred Womb, waiting for your seed of Sight. »
As a real spontaneous response all three of them, Osirian, Mirhilia and Cailla bow low to each other, to meet again, in this life.
One fairy is left behind as a watch on the boats placed up side down on the shore, well hidden amongs the branches-fence. Doing so, the Giants Marauders inhabiting this region would pass by without noticing the fresh human meat they miss. The group of 21 humans is heading in the core of the land, stretching in a long line ending up with two fairies who are erazing all traces with their usefull illusive spells. Up front, Cailla is thrilled in a conversation with the Nymph and the Fairy, zigzaging in a thick forest of giant ferns and trees with trunks as large as a gathering hut. Towering the walkers-pilgrims, the green and huge arms hide them from the dangerous sky where wild flying lizards are still roaming in the Cloud Land.
The journey is hard and treacherous. But Cailla is so off and light hearted with his two companions on his side again…after all these lifes together…memories pop on from all three as one genesis of the humanity. The line of adventurers is now approaching the exact point of convergence of the two chains of rocky mountains in a narrow angle. From here we see already the Great Cleansing Fall. Its high source, on the top of a dense forested summit, is too high to be seen, except when riding a Dragon over it. But from the ground, the majesty of this fall caressing the smooth and shiny flank of the rocky body is astonishing and quite inviting to contemplation, divine respect and attraction.
On the top of an hill, Cailla stops and stands still like a standing stone in front of this marvel! The three silhouettes, on the top of their tiny hill, contrast at the long, thin and smoothly falling down white ruban of water becoming a mist at the bottom where a lake reflect the white living beauty. With wet eyes, Cailla look at Osirian and Mirhilia and says, looking back at the scenery :
« It has been a long time ago! »
« Yes, dear! »…Both magical beings respond in echo.
Cailla continues while his twenty companions gather arround, with their eyes wide open at the splendour.
« We were all here, remember! We were at the beginning, we were the firsts to walk from behind the Cleansing Fall… We were the new born souls from the Sacred Womb. »
Osirian tosses her head with grace and a wave of long hairs swirl in the wind and says : « Here I must go first into the lake. I must be sure that you all cross over safely. Take a little rest up here and join me on the shore later. » While Osirian disappears through the thick curtain of ferns towards the lake, Cailla spend a precious time with his loyal followers gathered arround him and some of them are in total contemplation before the tremendous waterfall.
Walking gracefully but with all senses vigilant, Osirian shows a stern countenance. « Something is watching us! » Says Mirhilia poping visible over the Osirian’s shoulder.
« I do feel it since a while, indeed…and it is looking after me… I do know because of the evil signature it is leaving on my side…since the group left the canoes. » The Nymph Osirian adds with confidence.
« I did too…And soon will be the clash…I have a plan. This evil beast will eat the dust…euh…I must say the wave! » Mirhilia adds in a quick move, taking off in the air. They look at each other and exchange a wink. In the same momentum, Mirhilia pop off and Osirian start to run as fast as she can towards the lake.
Observing from behind and well cloaked by a thin veil of fear and doupt…the creature waits…while Osirian is seen with her nasty fairy : « And soon, both will be crushed under my feet… I can’t wait to have my revenge on these deceiving creatures. » The vision of the nemesis is clear and sharp, cold and neat, almost passionate. In a mental blur, the creature can’t wait anymore, and she sees the winged vermin poping off. She sprints out of the veil and run after her delightful prey…savouring already the warmness and tenderness of the juicy flesh nailed by her teeth. She is catching up easily on the weak pelagic creature so overtaken. The evil glance shows a Nymph in despair. But suddenly, in spite of the secure lake at hand, Osirian stop running and turns back slowly towards the vicious entity, showing a mucking grin on her face…
The hellish life form ends up the pursuit… « Something smells wrong! » She doesn’t know yet, but it is her last thought!... Taking a last breath… all the environment is shifting. From the familiar forest, a huge wall of water fall down on her. The last vision she get is that calm smile on Osirian’s face distorted by a swirl of bubbles and water violently smashing at her like an hammer of death. Osirian, in total freedom in her element, gracefully swims towards the reptilian corpse suspended lifeless, like a forgotten doll. Reaching at her tail, she brings the body in shallow water area.Osirian walks out of the lake, draging the creature like a bag. Not far, Mirhilia is comfortably sit on a rock, playing with her hairs, showing a total confidence seeing the hunter laying lifeless on the ground. Mirhilia brake the silence : « Oh! She was a Reptilian… nice catch, Osirian! »
The Nymph lay her fists on her hips and look at her Fairy friend : « Well, thank you, dear! But without your illusion spell, I would have been in big trouble… or at least with some wounds and bites all over me…and more likely raped too! Because I knew her, she had a kind of nasty habit to chase after us, Nature Spirits. »
« Did you know her since a while? » Mirhilia is asking, flying back towards Osirian and hovering in front of her.
« Yes, her name was Hellishia and also my first political assignment, eons ago. We were supposed to work together in the making of a new era of peace…Hmmm! I still remember her way to look at me even by these first ages. She was so guided by her own satisfaction. Imagine, Mirhilia, she was an androgyne… and was badly attracted to me… »
« Ah ah ah ah! » Mirhilia can’t help but to laugh aloud. « How come it didn’t work in between you two? I don’t understand…You had so much to share! » Glancing back at Mirhilia, Osirian shows a smile : « Yeah! You must know that Reptilians eat their partner after the act! I had better plans in my life then digested in a belly! »
« Hmmm! You have a point, dear! » Says her winged friend. « Do we dispose of her? » Mirhilia adds as she looks back at the corpse.
Up on the hill, Cailla is packing up after a short rest and a blue light flash attracts his attention, farther down on the shore. « Well! The path is clear. Let’s go, sisters and brothers, time to join in with Osirian and Mirhilia! »
It is an historic moment; The group of humans gathering downwards the gigantic Cleansing Waterfall. The pilgrims are amazed with all their senses. A lot of white birds are circling in the mist and along the ruban of milky water. The wind is fresh and aromatic carrying swirls of droplets so warm, contrasting with the fresher air. The group is still under cover in the long shadows of the Yew-trees. Roots and rocks are melted together along the shore. It is where Cailla find Osirian and Mirhilia; Both very focused at the most urgent and important task at hand. Hovering and gliding arround Osirian’s head, Mirhilia creates a real master piece of art with the hairs of the Nymph. It is difficult to say if magic or centuries of expertise are involved in this. Hmmm!...three qualificatives : Delicate, Majestic and Astonishing. Spirits of Nature are well known to be the instigators dedicated to the beauty radiating from a female. Osirian and Mirhilia are so focused on their art work that they don’t notice the Cailla’s presence.
« Well…Hum! So…You did encounter some resistance as I have seen the famous Fairy’s blue flash! » ( Renatus’s notes : ref. to Chronicle III of the Children of the Earth )
Mirhilia, still buzzing like a bee, interlaces a tress arround a graceful sculpture catching sometime golden rays of the morning sun piercing through the green ceiling of the huge branches of Yew-trees overhanging the group. « Dear Cailla, says Mirhilia, we can’t afford to attract a score of Giant Marauders with a reptilian corpse. » Cailla reacts with a frown. Osirian adds with a grin, looking at Cailla : « And you don’t wish to see this creature… Hellishia was my nemesis… and today is a blessed day, since she is no more at my back, once and for all! » With a last fairy artistic touch, Mirhilia changes the subject : « Well!… I will soon open the portal through the Ether Land, to let us all walk across the Cleansing Waterfall. »
While the pilgrims are changing their travel cloths for the ritual white robes, Mirhilia and her two other winged companions, start chanting their Ether Land’s spell to open the tunnel through the matter, called by the Ancients « The Sacred Bridge of Star Dust » (ref. : Chronicle I of the Pleiade’s Daughters ).
Not far enough behind the group, from the forest, a great turmoil is heard… Osirian and Cailla look at each other with concern. Osirian cuts the glance : « GIANTS ARE ON US!... They figured out where we are…clenching her teeth, she adds… Their shaman did torture some of us again !» Osirian look towards the wall of Yew-trees but at the same time, behind her, a phenomena shows some visual alterations in the middle of the air over the surface of the lake. Cailla looks back and forth at the portal and Osirian. He feels well the enormous anger from the Nymph’s heart and forsees what is in the making. Osirian’s heart is broken because of all these sacrificed sisters in the crual hands of the giant shaman.
« Come on, dear… Let it go… The portal is on…You can’t miss the Cross Over for a score of giants! » Cailla reaches at her arm gently. But Osirian reacts violently and turns back her glance towards Cailla : « No! I take a stand! These nut brains will taste of my essence. I do it for my sisters, gone by the door of pain. »… Already with eyes watered with tears, she turns back towards the green wall, frees her arm from Cailla’s grip and extends the two of them towards the Marauders approaching few steps behind the wall of trees.
Cailla is astonished by the Osirian’s courage and spits out : « So…I’ll take a stand too, beside my friend, for all lifes to come and together…no matter what! » In a critical moment, the closest branches begin to tremble with the earthquake like steps approaching behind… The rythm of death presses hard on Cailla’s heart… The time freezes and squeezes all life left… Faith is shaken… Bravery is sharp as a sacrificial knife… Blood hits hard on temples… The throat dries like sand under the sun… The stench of them attacks the nostrils.
But a shift in the air winds through the foliage. A salted pelagic draft replaces the musky one. Still hidden by the thick green wall the massive creatures close in with guttural noises half muted by a sound of waves of water crashing towards Osirian and Cailla. The trees resist to the strong tsunami breaking. Acting like a huge screen, theYew-trees let pass a rain of salted water falling down on the group as a rainbow of colours in the sun light. Cailla is still in a ready pose to cast his spell but figures out what did just happen and step back in a relieved attitude. He looks at Osirian : « Well, well, well!... Beware, living souls, the powerful Nymph Osirian strikes back, again!... I am so happy to be on your side, dear! To kiss goodby to my flesh and life at the sight of myself becoming sea water is not at all exciting! » Osirian smiles with still determination sparkling in her eyes, still looking at the deep wall of wet trees : « All my Sister Spirits have been honoured… their sacrificed lifes inspired and gave me the extra argument to make these huge vermins perish without a trace. After all, our passage must be a secret… untill that future humanity passes back through again! »
At these words, a warm wind blows in from the lake. An iris is opening in the air, just over the surface. Like a huge eye looking at the group, in the middle of it the three fairies circle hand to hand, arms extended. They look like three dragonflys in union, like a triskel, like the past/present/future at the Gates of Ether Land. These winged graces are marvelous singing sweet notes rocking all the souls attending. Osirian joins in at the contemplation with a charismatic voice : « May we all proceed to the cleansing of our soul and heart. Let our chosen pilgrims walk through the awareness of their new destiny. »
In a tunnel through all matter, the future Consciousness Travelers with eyes and mouth wide open, look at what is happening over their head, in a sky not so friendly. Huge flying lizards circle close to the summit of the Cleansing Waterfall. Cailla reassure them with a calm voice : « You are walking now in the Ether Land. You are all very secure and invisible from the outside world. These degenerated dragons can’t see you. Stay in the present and all together we will walk across the Cleansing Waterfall. » At the very moment when the first pilgrim closes in the point where the waterfall becomes a white and silver mist area, a translucent wall of seven lights unfolds like a rainbow with its 7 colours piercing throughout each body, each shell, each soul’s carrier. An expression of delightful joy radiates from each companion once they’ve been gloriously touched by the Seven Pleiade’s Daughters’s energies. Cailla, Osirian and Mirhillia look at each other with pride and great complicity… builted up lifes after lifes, like swallows building up their nest.
All of them surround Cailla at the entrance hidden behind the Waterfall. On their back, the thick curtain plays as a silver gate closing the Sacred Womb from the outside. Cailla climbs on a rock to be well seen and with an echoing voice : « Here we are at the source of all rebirth… All of us will born in a new consciousness! » At these words a dim light pulses on, coming from the center of the gigantic cave. The vault is like a real temple with unhuman proportions. Three enormous natural pillars are covered with some cristals but the most intriguing and attracting aspect is the majestic jewel, created millions year ago by the union of Cibellia and Galaxos (Chronicle I of the Pleiade’s Daughters). Galaxos’s love seeds cristalised here. With time passing by, the cristal became the storage, the memories of the creation of the Earth and her children. This central huge cristal is an intense gluster of bright shards linked together by their memories, light and loves… the very essence of their creation. In a closer look, we see and feel all the pulsion of the heart of the Earth… the closer we are to this standing stone of blessed Light, the closer our heart beat is harmonised with the rythm… rythm… rythm… like one heart beat… together… synchronised like waves on the shore. The Oneness is felt, the joy is overwhelming, the Divine is One in all his shards. The bright pulse of Light is wonderfull. All the beauty and purety of the cristal is revealed.
Cailla’s hand approaches the singing stone… and one after one, other hands come closer and touch the prime stone of the Sacred Womb. All the pilgrims do their closing beside the standing stone. All of them, Osirian, Mirhilia, the two other fairies are beating, touching, connecting at the Sacred Light Stone. Sudenly, memories of the Earth herself fusion with Cailla’s one; the first children walking on Earth migrating from the very center of Mother- Earth, the wise Cristal Giants, the Chromatic Dragons, the Key guardians Whales of the Abys, the Dolphins Healers and their Mermeids, the Pachiderms called the Love- Keepers, the seven wise Feys from the northern sky called later the Pleiade’s Daughters and all their Nature Spirits.
Here our three friends look at each other with a Love surge bringing tears at their eyes, tears collected from an ocean of immortal embracing radiating like three beacons. It is at that very unique moment that all this pilgrimage comes to its purpose. Like an eclosion, the Light Stone’s surface fractions itself in as many shards as present souls and each piece of Light finds home in each heart…
In each glance we see the immortality sparkling from the past and the future…
In each breath, a miracle accures, life expresses herself…
In each blood flow, the river of time is charted, memorised events are spreading, circling and looping like a moebius ruban…
In each present soul, a clear path of time after time is drawn. The future of Mother-Earth passes through the new born Consciousness’s Travelers. Cailla and his twenty human companions take each other’s hand and step back in a growing circle becoming more and more extended from the very center of the Sacred Womb.
At this precised moment, Cailla feels the top of his head taken in a swirl of warm air and he opens his eyes, wondering about these images he is receiving as a new enhanced Consciousness’s Traveler. He turns his glance naturaly and calmly towards the one at his left hand side. The young disciple reflexes the same serenity of expression looking back too, at Cailla. He smiles through the Light radiating from all his body and with his usual deep voice, he says : « Oh! There you are, princess Delfine. You did hide well amongs the twenty chosen ones. You are more then a royal blood heir concealed to survive at the intrigues of the court. » A little uneased by the truthfull comments of her Consciousness’s Master, Delfine shows nevertheless a great pride and grace no more needed to be concealed and she adds : « Your true seeing honour me, Master Cailla. I must admit that I do feel releaved to let know about all these years and centuries spent in a constant vigilence, avoiding plots, assassination attempts… forced to step back furter and deeper in the wild folds of any world, I did developed a second nature to survive. I had to find out all alone the ressources possibly found in any hidden corner of each civilisation ».
As all the other pilgrims look at each other in recognition, echoing at the same flow of timeless consciousness, the circle of new reborn beings slowly harmonises an invisible pulse to the Singing Stone of the Sacred Womb. In one voice, all together, Cailla, Osirian, Mirhilla and her two winged sisters sing their Spirit’s Chant. This melody is the Prime Sacred Song, the Divine Voice of the Source transmitted to the Nature Spirits by the Queen Maïa and her six Pleiade’s Daughters, eons ago. Emerging from the very core of immortality where all form of life take root, where the first wind of passion has blown from both stellar beings Gallaxos and Cybellia, where humanity was still a Divine Dream in the process of germination.
In the echoing rythm of the chant, the huge cave radiates from its center, deeper, stronger, brighter, untill the whole cave seems alive in the heart of the mountain. So brilliant and shining is the Light that we loose track of any silhouettes. The brightness becomes the only overwhelming state to all present souls. Physical bodies murge in the brightness of the radiance.
In one thought, in one will, in one surge of Love, all the souls rap on together the gift of this very instant; THE GIFT TO GIVE LIFE BY AND FOR LIFE. Cailla’s voice echoes in the air : « All of us in one we are. All of us are and feel like one. We are the memories of civilisations, races and all life forms of the past, present and future. We are one in a timeless state. We are the cement of our Love and Light. We are facing an historic moment. By our work in the consciousness, we are able to travel in and out each reality, each illusion. Our wave elevates us towards our roots… towards our common Mother-Tree of Life ».
Almost too shining to be observed, the phenomenum takes a new turn : All the twenty souls become diaphane and levitate for a while in the middle of the immense sacred place and a danse just begins. Overing the central Singing Stone, they all allign themselves in one line, like a rubon. This silver cord made of twenty sparks evolves in the shape of an « 8 » laying where the ceiling swallows them in a communion of recognition. Here in the flesh of the rock, the new borns use this stone connexion to start off their new specific mission as Consciousness Travelers in all the realms and planes of the multiverse.
The End
Epilogue :
The fairy left beside the canoes is not surprised seeing Cailla, Osirian, Mirhilla and her two other winged sisters in a new radiating charisma. She says : « Welcome back, my dears! I see that a new generation of Consciousness Travelers has been given to the multiverse. »
Cailla and Osirian stand side by side, hand in hand, when they emerge from the thick wall of ferns. They reach their heart with their free hand and salute low their fairy guardian. Cailla adds : « Yes indeed, the multiverse did receive our present. It is still our best gift, our present! » Cailla cannot resist to smile at Osirian at the end of his sentense. A nice smile reflecting all these centuries of real distanced love is shining at the nymph’s face. The atmosphere is blessed all around Osirian and Cailla. Mirhilla and her three sisters feel the wave of love created in this momentum of energy in motion. On this pilgrimage towards the Sacred Womb, the nymph and the human are embracing their reunion in the river of time by their own devotion to the awakeness of humanity, their common motive.

End of the Chronicle III of the Pleiade's Daughters

Soon, the Chronicle IV... still in writing process.
Renatus, your chronicler.

Chronicle II of the Pleiade's Daughters

« They were thousands and thousands of dark figures runing out of their holes, long sinuous tunnels invaded by these creatures swift as spiders, scratching, strolling, jumping, like real demons from the hells. All the inside of the mountains was overwhelmed by this exode from the Shadows forgotten in the womb of the young Earth. Like ants, legions of black warriors frantically spreaded out of their hidden lairs to wave on the flancs of each mountain in an horrible chain reaction. The quiet forested valley was invaded by all side and no matter the majestic presence of the giant Yew-trees, their magnificence was raped by this tide of souless beasts. »
The story-teller is so emotionally disturbed that he must stop abruptly to regain control of his trembling voice. His young public is amazed in front of the Divine Dream’s Traveler. After a little while, the story continues to take its flight rocked by the charming voice…With the grace of a swan, the story-teller spread his two arms. In the same momentum, his voice reaches an aerial lightness with some elfic accents :
« From the heart of the Sacred Forest a song is carried with the wind in between the boughs of the Green Realm. In a crescendo of a mystical and ancient language, the chant of sounds and words echoes through the wilderness. From the quintessence of the Yew’s Spirits, the fey like spellbound words swirl amist the giant trunks and ferns. »
Like a passionate reincarnated Spirit, the story-teller become the wind of hope, inspired from this genesis time of the nordic forest.
« Fast as the light, this wave became an expending wall of powerfull burning energy…not for the forest but for the twisted minds from these shadows from beneath. You should have seen these vulgar corpses literally dismembered by the blasting wave of Life : the Chant of the Wild Forest of the Yews. All this army so ready to trample over the Life Beings of the Greem Realm, was totally dismantled in an instant. »
The story-teller lift his arms in the air, in a V shape, and claps his fingers together.
« And here was the first real magic assignment of the mysterious Cailla, the only one human entitled to follow the Path of the Consciousness Traveler. »
THE END…(but soon, the chronicle III…)
Renatus, your chronicler.

Chronicle I of the Pleiade’s Daughters

Imagine that you are in a landscape where your eyes are overwhelmed by the virgin beauty of the wild forest, the regular rythm of rivers cascading in the heart of a majestic valley, a realm of gigantic pine trees spreading their branches like thousands of arms embracing the blue sky. You are not dreaming. you stand in front of the young Earth, as she was at the dawn of humanity, at the north-eastern corner of the actual America. Today we call it the province of Quebec. But by these early ages, it was the Realm of the Pleiade's Daughters. A vast domain reaching the top of the world and still touched by the magic of the six feys. Here is a special place under the stars of the north. Many shamans and Dream Walkers know that land as their portals to reach other dimensions in a perfect serenity, since these portals are on the protection of the six. The six Pleiade's Daughters, the six feys left behind to secure this brave new world.

******
It is one of these beautiful nights under the northern sky, where each spark of the stars may talk to the well connected eyes of the shaman. He is sat like a candle at the tip of a huge standing stone in the middle of a valley where, 13 billions years ago, two factions of warriors have met in a final combat. These creatures were the last of their kind. They were the first attempt of creation from the union of two Great Lovers. The shaman, named Cailla, knows the story of these Great Divine Beings and sings in an old forgoten language the chant of their act of passion…
« From the heart of the Virgin Lover Cybelia, grows a spark of attraction towards her companion, the Strider, messenger from the stars, Galaxios. He comes in like an ardent fire of desire with a tail of tormented essences, on a path of mist, known as the Sacred Bridge of Star Dust. He comes in armed with a leathal weapon known too by the Children of the Union as The Glowing Passion…Cybelia feel well what is at stake but can’t avoid the magnificent and attractive attributes of the Strider Galaxios. She has to open wide all her valleys where salted seas already flow from inner sources created by her own devoted expectation. »
The voice of the shaman Cailla is fulfiled with EMOTION, since all the chant is frequences of Energy in MOTION.
«The clash of both Lovers in each other becomes thunder of Light and Music, Fire and Winds, a sensual momentum through the glances of Lovers… from one side the eye of the Storm and from the other, the eye of the Galaxy. Intimately in Un-i-on the masses of energies explode in a Fountain of Passion, where no cave, nor crevice is left without a Seed of Love. »
Cailla opens wide his eyes towards the night sky and breath out a long and soothing sound, a snake like noise, in between clenched teeth. With the grace of a swan, the shaman stands up and backs up with his hands together at his chin. In a prayer mood he poses, with his eyes lowing down towards the roc where he was. Where he gave a piece of himself… where no crevice is left without a seed of Love.
Renatus, your chronicler of the Pleiade’s Daughters.

Chronicles of the Pleiade's Daughters (long time ago, on a planet named Earth)

The big River flows her pure and generous waters toward the sea... bearing on her back, sometime, few canoes made from the very skin of trees. They slide over the surface, watched by the silence in the early mist.
Here is the routine of a day stretching in the genesis of humanity.
Here, the time has no meaning since human kind is not disconnected from the Source, from the Magic still virgin and free of heavy rituals...

Imagine that you are in a landscape where your eyes are overwhelmed by the virgin beauty of the wild forest, the regular rythm of rivers cascading in the heart of a majestic valley, a realm of gigantic pine trees spreading their branches like thousands of arms embracing the blue sky.
You are not dreaming. you stand in front of the young Earth, as she was at the dawn of humanity, at the north-eastern corner of the actual America. Today we call it the province of Quebec. But by these early ages, it was the Realm of the Pleiade's Daughters. A vast domain reaching the top of the world and still touched by the magic of the six feys.
Here is a special place under the stars of the north. Many shamans and Dream Walkers know that land as their portals to reach other dimensions in a perfect serenity, since these portals are on the protection of the six. The six Pleiade's Dauhters, the six feys left behind to secure this brave new world.

To be continued...in a new collection: Chronicles of the Pleiade's Daughters

Litha Special: Children of the Earth

Litha - The Summer Solstice

Through the centuries, society has developed and has been reborn into an entity named America. But the
Children of the Earth were there...
There, under cover of woods...
There, on the currents of rivers and lakes...
There, in the hollow of the mountains...
There, in the Spirit of the Earth-Mother...
There on the portal of the Ancestors...
There... this season and the earth, air, fire, and water, these Children of the Earth, we owe them this life we
have, in our comfortable modern fashion and disconnection of the species of life.
Denizia, connects with her brothers and sisters Narragansett for the Litha celebration.
Let us honor our Ancestors, Children of the Earth-Mother. Rediscovering the ties that lie ahead for us: free of
illusions created by power, greed, selfishness and fear.

Children of the Earth: VI

Children of Earth VI

A thin layer of snow covers the whole field leading to the ancestral green house. The morning begins to break and the retreat of Art Nouveau style makes this moment a touched by eternity. The trio of friends is still inside. A squirrel crosses the trail leading to the entrance, but comes to a sudden stop, immediately frozen. Two shadows glide slowly on the carpet of white and the little creature does not wait but jump backwards. The two figures show their attributes.

An amber glow emanates from the right palm of the smallest creature. Already, a fireball forms itself suspended above a demonic hand. But another hand, equally amber in hue, seize his wrist in a flash. Both infernal eyes intersect. Hatred, revenge and anger can be read in one, while the other is the authority and strength of power. Bringing by force the hand of the fiery creature in front of his chest, for a brief moment of silence, the two demons face each other. Two faces of hell lit by an inflamed sphere, set with those bottomless eyes which also emanate lights from lower worlds ... and the devil told to his lieutenant:

“Do not waste your energies for these three... they're vermin tied together. We had a beautiful diabolical plan on the day of Beltaine... but these three are as vicious as Love and Light intertwined together... I'm telling you... We must go back to our best option: The Woman-Snake; SHYTIANIS, the High Priestess of our queen Lilith, the very Eve’s Daughter. Shytianis will crush them as she has done throughout the history of mankind on Earth with the Light Bearers. Remember what happened in the Garden of Eden!”

It is decidedly the last word spoken by a demon, too sure of himself around the property of Denizia, the White Magic carrier and her guardian...

“MÖRHYGAN!” Exclaimed the two allies from hell... turning their heads toward the sensual beauty of a multiforme fairy, highly attractive but fatal. On supernatural speed, both Mörhygan hand hit like two swords of justice under the jaws of two victims of their own incubus instincts. In a flash of blood and flesh, both creatures of the shadows go crashing to the ground, their heads spurting black blood from eight holes. Motionless for a moment, overlooking the massacre, Mörhygan still holds the two brains of her victims in her fists. She then threw them on the floor, looking up, savoring her victory, the fairy guardian is whispering: “That explains the virulent attack from which I barely survived at the Beltaine!” With grace and flexibility, the fairy woman squats and grazes the white snow with her hands still stained with the blood of Hell. An icy look reflects the snowy veil that surrounds her, Mörhygan washes her lethal hands and clenches her teeth: “The legendary Shytianis is behind this conspiracy. Well be it! The Council of the Seven will be informed.” Throwing snow tainted with the blood of her enemies, the fairy guardian rises deeply and turns her face toward the ancient greenhouse, illuminated by the golden rays of the morning. She thinks aloud: “This information cast new light on many of the mysteries regarding recent events.”

Turning her back on these puppets released from their Hell and on the pool of black blood, Mörhygan walks slowly and firmly like a lithe but fatale woman. She raises her arms, forming a crescent of moon. Her feminine silhouette contrast over the blue flash always concluding Mörhygan’s interventions with forces of darkness. With a fairy like grace, the woman's body becomes a tiny flying fey creature that cuts through the morning air toward the ancestral greenhouse where Denizia and Sky are waiting.

Children of the Earth: Part V

Children of the Earth V

Winter in New England is usually very pleasant, not surprisingly cold, but not the high level of moisture that penetrates any protection any isolation and kills all well being. But in the case of Denizia, our carrier of White Magic, this winter ends in the paranormal events ever intense. With her fairy guardian Mhörhygan and Sky, his familiar hawk, disturbing phenomena are exploding, especially since the day of the last Beltaine.

Denizia has been blessed by the Goddess Brigid and touched by the Watchers of the multiverse, Ditratos and Yuna, again reflective, is sitting in the center of her secret garden at the foot of the tree of life. The mere memory of a dream has guided Lady Denizia here, under the glass of the ancestral greenhouse. Nice and warm in this haven, exotic colorful birds flew by the carrier of White Magic as smile of happiness is given to her bird friends, a divine gift from her Goddess Brigid. Some birds even just pull a few locks of her hair, almost as a horses’ due to its thick density, but come yet silky as the down of a chick. Their boldness excites slightly the hunting instincts of Sky, but the empathetic link of the two Children of the Earth prevails. Connected to his brother and sister Birds, reassured and relaxed with her family, the multiple shadows of her winged fellows run over her body touched by sensual woman attributes.

Denizia contemplates the rich foliage of the tree while dragging her Goddess like body on smooth and century-old roots plowing throughout a thick carpet of Scots moss. The hazel of her eyes falters and gives way to a green tapestry that bathes them. Like a true replica of the multiverse, Oak-Brother ennoble these feeder roots that radiate like a sun. These plants draw tentacles in the invisible and chthonic darkness, Essence of Life. Through its powerful trunk, full of life-giving matter and supports multiple branches of the multiverse and the different species of animal and vegetable, but also terrestrial and celestial.

Sky likes to stroke the arm and shoulder of her older sister, tickling her. A laugh like that of a small child's, escapes the tender and loving sensual lips of the Daughter of Earth. “Sky, Sky, Sky... you're teasing today. Oh I see is that Mörhygan walking on your shore of dreams! You are a famous duo of friends, you two!”

A strange breeze comes waltzing to the thick hair of Denizia, as Mörhygan appears on the back of Sky. The air blast rattles a few leaves of the tree of life. The three friends turn their eyes to the dense pair, their indigenous-tree that vibrates from wave to wave, dropping leaves fluttering in a zigzag motion toward them and settle all around, like a large circle marking invisible seven leaves... Mörhygan breaks the silence, “The coalition of the seven universes of the multiverse!”

Sky spreads his wings in surprise and Denizia opens her eyes wider on his little guardian fairy who adds, “Well what? You do not know why Dreamland’s signs are guiding you up at this moment?”

“Well, is that...” Denizia and Sky swap an empathetic look at each other… “We thought we fly with Deniziair and make a jump to Appalachian...”

“Hey! No, no...” cut soon the little fairy… “Later, the winged ballads, Moreover, you wear the seven key Portals on you.”

“On me?” she ask her fairy friend.

A feeling of warmth and tingling draws Denizias’ attention to her chest, specifically along her right breast... A hot surge of energy comes stroking its whole flank, providing a sweet and deep emotion in her heart. Looking up into the branches of plants beneath which she is sitting, Denizia does not see the monochrome prints of her jacket suddenly come alive and take flight, color and life. Spreading their wings in a waggle of life and energy, while the butterflies fly from the very fabric of the clothing worn by Denizia...

To follow in the chronicle of VI Children of the Earth, soon.

Children of the Earth: Part IV

Children of the Earth IV

Prologue, Moving away from the egg of energy, the new-born a winged is released in her element, air, like the new suffix to her name says so.

Deniziair knows very well that nothing is won in advance with demons. She paid her last battle against the infernal creatures by a pair of wings that were completely amputated from her body. She still remembers the pain, the energy left at the mercy of the celestial blood flowing with a warm fatality all along her back and buttocks to die on the black rocks at the foot of the Potency of; Angels. But those memories back to the surface of her consciousness just gives the strength to continue. Mörhygan's tenacity, her fairy guardian, has borne fruit. Now, the dice of destiny are launched.

The twilight ends and the morning light will soon reign over the Appalachian forest. Deniziair knows Mörhygan managed to wipe out hundreds of demons. But she feels that infernal entity slipped safely beyond the demonic genocide. Where will she land this vermin? Or has it infiltrated? In the body of an innocent mortal? In the bowels of the Earth-nurse? In the subterfuge of a carrier of Black Magic?

Deniziair perfectly masters her element, that of air. Now relying on a simple heavenly instinct to ferret out the demon succubus of hiding. She flies and hovers above the tall pines. She spins, flits and plunges into the gaps of the forest. You should see her slip a crazy speed, above the green giants that hide their secrets so well. Suddenly, she slows its powerful wings and falls in the forest morning, feet first, into the unknown, to her worthy opponent. In diving into vertigo, Deniziair does not fail to fuse with her brothers-trees, their branches scattered evidence of the passage of the malicious entity trying to evade the vigilance of the Children of the Earth. Turning empathetic informations of her brother trees and account, Deniziair knows where her nemesis is. Tempering her revenge instinct, but still subdued by so many images transmitted by her brothers-trees, she visualizes. The very image of his location is repugnant to such an extent that Deniziair projects her creative thinking to find herself behind her enemy.

Completely immobilized by the demonic strong hold, the Dryad is pinned down, her breasts against the Sacred Ground, belly raised, riveted on her wrists. She already feels the ignoble member brushing her nymphs still fresh. Just when she thinks being penetrated by darkness hell... vertigo subtracts consciousness and she feels her strength abandon the assault of the “copula cum daemon.” The demonic wings are all blooming and quiver. The satanic screams escape from between the teeth and sharp crackling fire in his eyes at the thought of devouring the soul-sister of the child-tree Mother-Earth. It's a great insolence to the so called sacred balance of nature vis-à-vis their children.

Deniziair sees the weakness of an incubus. As soon as an opportunity, he succumbs to temptation and answered the call of his mistress, at the bottom of her underworld, LILITH. The routine of the First Demon Hell is so pathetic and predictable with her momentum of vampire possession of a being on another human being. That's why it is Deniziair’s duty to release the life from this demonic torpor.

In a simultaneous motion, both of her knees are plunged in the hollow of the back of the incubus and firm hands on the horns of hell and pulls it. The cracking of vertebrae is unequivocal and the sound of the death of the creature of the underworld announces the release of her sylvans sister. Then, with a heavenly force, Deniziair unleashes her rage and thirst for justice is so satiated. The incubus beheaded collapses into a vortex of black blood spurting from his body. The flesh and blood are an infernal abomination spread over the roots of the Tree of Life of the Dryad avenged. Still standing on the motionless body of the incubus emptying himself from black energy, Deniziair still holds in her right hand the horned head. She feels than, her left hand grip by a familiar warmth. Ditratos, the White Mage of the multiverse, is with her, “Your gesture was necessary and entirely praiseworthy. The balance is restored. You have liberated Earth from the grip of the underworld and we thank you, Deniziair. Our Goddess Brigid was right to give you wings. You offer them back to justice and the balance of life.”

Turning her head toward the base of the Big Pine, Deniziair is relieved to see The Dryad sat leaning against the Tree-Brother with Yuna, the fairy rebel on her shoulder, whispering secrets in her tapered ear. Ditratos then takes the head of the incubus from Deniziair’s hand, “Do not worry about the Lady of the Wood. With the touch of Yuna, she will survive the assault she undergoes. In fact, the fairies erase what they want from our memories. Reminds me come back later, mine acting up, Sometimes!” Admiring the demonic head by holding the two horns, Ditratos adds, “Many spells and potions in become, in the head that is brainless!... Well, the sun rises soon. Yuna and I must leave you. We do not want to intervene too much in the realm of the Earth. It's up to you to do, with Denizia, Mörhygan, Sky, your sisters and brothers, the Children of the Earth, which are the fruit of Worlds Divine dream.”

At the same time as Mörhygan reappears on the Deniziair’s shoulder, the Mage's hands allows the famous Mirror to resurface near the mystical group. In farewell filled with love, friendship and mutual respect, the watchers of the multiverse fade through their reflections and the Mirror dissipates again. A moment of morning and sylvan silence falls around the two friends. Deniziair, a rustle of feathers, shakes its wings and cut the white stillness of the forest, “We can do not go and leave the carcass of hell ...” A flash of blue, Flowing from a star shape light where the carcass of the incubus had lied. Then, no more corpse, or traces do remain. The little voice Mörhygan reply, “What carcass of Hell?”

Mörhygan, standing on the shoulder of her older sister tunes, displays a cavalier attitude by speaking in a tone light, full of the innocence of fairies. Deniziair amounts nimbly few graceful strokes of wings and flies over the location of the massacre, “Wow!” Perched on the shoulder of her witch, Mörhygan replies, “Here on Earth we must be vigilant and clean up well after our visit. The people here are not ready to embrace the realities of worlds of dream.”

With these words, the two winged creatures enjoy the last shadows of morning, in the acrobatic maneuvers of supernatural grace, Denizia join the witch and Sky, on the Sacred site. Approaching the small clearing, already made the night into day with notes of horizon ignited by the rays of the sun rising above New England a reassurance of modern times. This is to safeguard this illusion that Mörhygan and Deniziair fly across the ridges between the Appalachian conifers, not to be seen by innocent witnesses. The sharp senses of the two companions are connected to the spirits and invisible elements of the American forest. Empathetic and perfectly easy air, the fairy guardian and her reborn protegee from her twin Denizia, begin their routine down to the ancient site.

The presence and power of the bird Sky flying toward them warms the hearts of the demon huntress. But the rising day press act quickly. Deniziair, feet first, observes twin anatomy Denizia awaits on the ancestral dolmen, standing stones . Despite total ignorance, the act of reinstatement to her soul-sister, the lady remains Denizia Senior mystical society. She therefore offers, with arms outstretched, in total confidence in her Goddess Brigid who has restored her wings. Denizia look her winged alter-ego plummet to her, pointing her feet toward her chakra of heart. Where laid the hand of her mentor Ditratos. When the toes of Deniziair touching the breast of Denizia, fusion takes place in a supernatural light flash rainbow. The two entities become divine light and merge into each other in an harmonious and perfect manifestation of divine powers embodied here. The white wings of Deniziair rush and slide into the body which is illuminated Denizia chills traveled, witness her impulses to enter the celestial energy.

Always gently caressed by subtle waves, Denizia engaged with so much love and light that her knees bend under the weight of invasive emotions. As deprived of her puppet master, Denizia falls on her knees followed by her cape, which thrown over her sobs of unsustainable joy.

Suddenly a smile spreads, this child of the Earth drowning in tears, a moment ago. A laugh that echoes in interlaced branches of the trees. A laugh releasing forces create wonders of the multiverse. In a smile, Denizia understands the full picture of what Ditratos said, “Today it is not a day to prostration, but revival!” This thought continues to caress her memories, she walks awakening in the forest, lit by the rays of the rising sun that link between the branches and dance on her clothing Modern North American retouched by a gothic touch. "Today it is not a day to prostration, but the revival!" That phrase still echoes in her head when a car stops before her, making hitchhiking. “Where do you go?” the lady flying asks her. “Pawtucket,” says Denizia. “Well mount!”

Unknowingly, the driver comes to help lady Denizia back from a special ritual. Always silent and quiet, the witch watching the defiling route, but by daylight this time. She remembers, “Today it is not a day to prostration, but revival!" Looking up at the sky, she sees Sky flying parallel to herself.” She knows that Mörhygan is invisible on her friend. A smile emerges on her sensual lips, and she thinks, “Thank you, Goddess Brigid. Thank you, Yuna...” Denizia caress her chest with her left hand and ... “Thank you, Ditratos. For your blessing, my chakra of the heart has opened itself for Deniziair”

END


Cheers, children of the Earth!

Children of The Earth: Part III Part 3 of 3

Children of The Earth

Part III

Part 3 of 3

Thousands of flakes of light emanate from Yuna. Then they begin waltzes gently along the top of Denizia, cascading over her body, warming from magical energy. Yuna rises gently from the head of her big sister and then lands back on the shoulder of her companion. With both Ditratos’s hands takes the helmet and, as a coronation, held it over Denizia, “Of all the souls of the multiverse, you have been chosen, my sister. The Goddess Brigid is there to support you in the future.”

He lowers the sacred helmet down, as it gently and completely covers the Denizia’s head of. In a greeting full of respect, hands clasped, the White-Mage descends to the feet of the chosen one. Drawing multiple circles that close, Sky, wings straight, spirals down and perches on the avian helmet now worn by Denizia. At this very moment in between the breasts of the beauty, a slight glow emanates, while the witch's hands away from each other, Sky launched in a scream. Immediately, the light sparkles like a volcano lighting up the chest of the young lady. Then, the incredible occurs. As a paranormal childbirth, a human form can be sensed in an aura of light. First a tiny fairy-like, a diaphanous form grow, suspended in the air of the twilight.

Here are Yuna and Ditratos’s voices. They look at each other alert. Indeed, the twilight is now recognized to be the most active moment among the disciples of the first demon of hell, Lilith.

Meanwhile, on the threshold of the portal of these infernal worlds, the fairy Morhygan watches vigilantly. Suddenly, the veil is torn and the invasion unleashed. First dozens, then hundreds of winged dark creatures unfold in the twilight sky, spewed out of the slot supernatural. A quick count, Morhygan considers the forces at play, “A two hundred-cons, and finally an interesting challenge!” she says calmly.

On the same breath, she visualizes, thanks to its polymorph, and voila! In a burst of magical light an intriguing succubus demon incarnate. Amazing how a charismatic fairy can make misfortunes in a legion of demons. Very smart, she flies from a group to the other above the where forest stands the ritual of her beloved witch. Reflecting the evilness that surrounds her, Morhygan with her succubus body displays her talents disturbing rumors, confusing lies, deadly jealousy, revolting deceit, shocking betrayals, destructive thoughts are paired with a suicidal decadence. (In short, the fairies and thoughts are always in league, whatever the desires you want).

Chaos explodes among the succubus demons. Soon, infernal spells are exploding in the sky ravished with its night flesh ignite in a tornado of fire, blood and ashes of a demon. These are just merging into the trees of the forest.

Lower down these huge guardians, spreading their majestic branches the ritual of Denizia’s rebirth enters in the occult the hidden history of White Magic in America. At once the graceful winged woman split from Denizia flew with flexibility. Naked in the night, the new girl of the air seems so sure of her avian abilities. She flies to help her fairy guardian Morhygan.

The two watchmen of the multiverse, Denizia and Sky look surprised at the miracle of the Arcanas manifested before their eyes. Exhausted by so much effort, the daughter of the Earth lies on the ancient stone and covers her body with the cloak of feathers. Sky is nestled in the hollow of her belly, as in his nest to sleep. Yuna and Ditratos go up alongside Denizia, sleeping already. Yuna whispers in to the ear of the wizard, “Do you remember her first visit to our Hall of Wonders? There, she slept so well, feeling secure with us, so far, however, from home! She really has an open mind, out of the ordinary. Really, we made the right choice. Denizia will be a good emissary for the Earth.”

“She is so beautiful, so... woman now... Ouch!” Yuna presses her fist on the lobe of the ear of her friend. “Ouch! Hey! It is a simple observation from an immortal on a mortal, that's all!”

“Yeah, yeah! Course! You're so convincing, my dear friend!” boasting a casual and confident posture herself, Yuna with her fists on her hips looks after her friend's shoulder.

Certainly, but immortal, as they say humans here, so teen!

“I know, it is the price to pay to attend a fairy rebel.” Toward his fairy twinkling of an eye, suddenly a supernatural cry rang from the depths of the forest. “Quick! Let's go!” he said.

“I leave a spell of protection to let them rest and I'll join you soon!

Once it appears, the magic mirror is crossed by two watchmen and volatilizes into the invisible again.

Children of The Earth: Part III Part 2 of 3

Children of The Earth:

Part III

Part 2 of 3

Finally, under the lunar harmonies, the bird mask against her chest, Denizia imparts a tender look to Sky, being ready for the Rebirth.

On a lighter step, barefoot, in communion with her sister-forest, she crossed the distance that separates her from its liberation.

The Ancestral Glade embraces her with its bats that leave the standing stones area. These stones have forgotten themselves in sylvan vegetation, just to hide the Celtic heritage from the Bitumens eater of the modem times. New England is the cradle of an empire, indeed, but also the cornerstone of the revival of the telluric arcane, leading toward future, our children, children of the Goddess.

Denizia’s wild gaze is lulled by the hundreds of years that connect her to these Celtic Ancestors, guardians of universal wisdom on this side of the Earth. Which is why she climbs the sacred stones and anchors herself at the top. At the same time, the worlds of the multiverse are gathering at her feet! First, Morhygan, always invisible, remains the guardian of the portal of the Hells. Also, it here comes the Mirror, from where step in sentries of the multiverse: The Ranger-Mage Ditratos and Yuna, the fairy rebel. Never in the story of the New England such a meeting had occurred.

But once present, these two famous heroes of the multiverse are stunned by the charisma and Denizia’s presence. With the fairy Yuna on his shoulder, Ditratos climb the sacred mound and faces Denizia, clad in her cape of feathers. She still holds her mask as a newborn in the crucible of her chest.

Morhygan did mention already about the Ranger of the multiverse, as Yuna, his companion of adventure, but she has never imagined herself standing before these two legendary immortals. Seeing herself in front of them make her knees bend and bowed at once to their feet. The Ranger bends and slides his hand under the Denizia’s armpit and tenderly pulls to invite her to stand. Without resistance, but the head down, the witch runs and proceeds. Yuna takes off and lands on her chestnut head and sit-there, legs crossed, intertwined in her long hair. Helped by the long fingers of the Mage’s hand, which slowly raises Dame Denizia’s chin, their eyes eventually intersect. A father-like smile appears under his ashen mustache, and in response, Denizia cracks under Ditratos’s charismatic charm. Her protective shell opens in jolts of nervous laughter under eyes filled with admiration. The deep voice cuts the silence, “Here! I like that better. Today this is not a day for prostration but to rebirth. In a moment you'll be affected by our Goddess. This will be a great moment, powerful and spellbinding.”

With his other hand, Ditratos lays his palm between the breasts of the witch. “From there, your node energy, the Primordial egg will hatch an all new Denizia. You'll have the impression of being divided. But this duality will be yours and you alone will control it, Daughter-of-the-Earth. The Goddess Brigid sent me to bless you. Her gratitude will be revealed to you in a few moments. You will be our ambassadaress on Earth. Something you can be proud. Henceforth, you are no longer alone in front of evil attacks,” he says reassuringly.

Tiny filaments of light escape from the fingers still warm and lying on Lady Denizia’s chest. Under a light combining tenderness and love, Denizia’s voice sings in the ears of the watchers of the multiverse, “I remember you, Ditratos and Yuna, the Temple of Wonders, the Fairyland and Sidhorion, its beautiful guardian. I remember now.” The little fairy Yuna joins her hands over her mouth to contain her emotion of joy, “Oooh! You had to come back from forgetfulness by yourself, congratulations! Among us, you're here now.” Ditratos’s hand trembles, always laying between her breasts, when he hears his name. Almost no-one knows his name. “But how, Denizia...” asks Ditratos? “In a scrawl from your temple of wonders, I've red a spell signed from your hand,” reponds the witch with empathy.