Athens 2014
The sun rose over the enchanting city the same way it had for thousands of years. Magenta light cast its resplendent mantle on the ancient buildings as if at any moment Helios would call to order his servant girls and command his fiery chariot to leap to the zenith of the new day. It was a glorious sunrise, the sky blue and breeze warm.
The engineers were working at a furious pace to weld up the portable stands, set up the sound and lighting equipment for the Dark Monarch Butterfly gig, many looking forward to the show as they hummed the band’s latest hits, everyone excited as they went about their assigned tasks. Vendors were setting up their booths with their collections of band memorabilia, posters, T-shirts, badges to the crystal pods and virtual discography. Nearby, food and soft drink stalls were setting up shop as security checked out the site. Marquees erected for the band and special guests with a BBQ planned for after the show. The stone murals behind the stage where the holo-imagers were set up on silver pedestals to project the special effects as the sun went down were now in place. These would create an Underworld like nothing Homer ever envisaged. There was something missing. At first, nobody was sure as to what had changed. It was eerie. The speaker towers were transductive and shaped like the statues of the gods of ancient Greece and were truly awesome. The seating set up around the amphitheater to accommodate an audience of 20000 fans, a special gold pass concert for those winning the ‘Dark Pool of Light competition’ in Sounds – magazine -- a watershed event for the band as a global audience of an estimated 2500000 would be watching the concert live.
Then a gaggle of cusses and heated arguments broke out as site curators demanded to know whom had defaced the Medusa mural, with its stone embossing of the frightening visage, being that of the snake haired Gorgon. On closer examination, they realized that the image apparently not removed by vandals, but was simply gone, the rock smooth to the touch as if it had never been there. They were too shocked to react, the concert they told them, could go ahead despite this bizarre turn of events and the men, and women were a little afraid.
Then, what really freaked the beleaguered curators out was when they were asked about a more disturbing find. They looked at several statues of strange appearance and posture, these not ancient artifacts, but sculpted young adolescents in contemporary garb; these were anatomically flawless. The thing that terrified the curators most were their facial expressions – the looks of terror chilled all who looked upon these grotesque images cast in marble. They hadn't a clue as to where these statues had come from, or who put them behind the stage.
Then one of the techs found a blonde haired girl unconscious under a tarpaulin. The girl couldn’t remember her name. She had no idea where she came from and how she got where she was and she was taken to the local infirmary. The site manager threw tarps over the statues, placed these on the stage as props as a clever solution to what to do with these for the moment, and thought nothing more of it. Of course, there was a lot more to this as with the strange disappearance of a rock carving of Medusa. It was so bizarre and all felt the atmosphere of the site shift to one of otherworldly disquiet, but the show would go on.
---
Beryl found herself standing within an ancient Etruscan burial ground. Though the statuary and shrines were imposing and atmosphere charged with uncertainty, nonetheless it was beautiful in its own way.
Jolyon stood beside her, holding her hand. She felt reassured by the contact. The unusual structures depicting various gods and goddesses, sprites, nymphs, daemons and other wonders abounding within this eerie locale looked back at her unmoving.
“Jolyon, why are we in this place?” she prodded as his eyes swept the site as if looking for something or somebody. She shrugged and they pressed on.
“A place of remembrance,” he said, in that cryptic way of his and walked towards what seemed an open-aired temple complex.
She was awestruck by the tall Greek columns consisting eight pillars and four wide and shallow terraces holding prominence in the heart of the grounds of this long forgotten graveyard. Beryl stared after him, the magnificent beige wings like those of a bird of prey; exquisite she thought, his boots leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. She found herself suspended in a moment of involuntary admiration placing a hand upon her breast in an unconscious gesture of endearment before rushing to follow him.
“I don’t get it. Jolyon, this makes no sense. Is there something here I need to see?”
Her questions were soon answered as the bright silvery moon, three times its normal size cut through the thick shroud of mist embracing the greater portion of the site.
“I wanted you to see to an earlier time, a time when you weren’t a minion of the Dark Kingdom, but an ally of Serenity; a Maga of Strega.”
Unfamiliar with the term, Strega, She shrugged and continued to take in the stunning artwork, carvings and figurines encircling the Moon Temple. The remarkable structure dedicated to Diana, the Goddess of the Moon and several other Goddesses: Isis, Demeter, Kore and Persephone.
She was stunned by the fact she could read the unusual script on the monuments. The painted murals given context and new life, as she caught a glimpse of how these archaic peoples once lived, loved, fought and worshiped. She felt a little unnerved by the profusion of indigo auras appearing around some of the sculptures of strange creatures or mythical beasts finding these somewhat unsettling, but took a deep breath and put it down to experience and kept moving. Given her recent sojourn into the occult thus far, she offered a statue of Hecate a wry smile.
‘I’m taking this all in my stride, am I not?’ the rhetorical thought dancing on the tip of her tongue remained unspoken as she thanked the Kamis she was in a chemise, not having to lift skirts to climb over fallen masonry. Despite herself, she trembled at the sight of the etheric glow making these figurines seem animated as she continued to follow her winged guide along the processional way.
They entered then a more hallowed part of the primordial cemetery, likely the resting places of noble men and women, some of the smaller crypts, beautiful and yet sad, belonged to children. She noted that this portion of the sanctuary was in far better condition than the one they had left behind as breathtaking as it was. She stopped to examine the elaborate Stele covered in colorful glyphs, telling ancient tales so old they had no obvious frame of reference she was aware of, and she, an enthusiast on lost civilizations, mythology, archaeology and all, found herself baffled by this.
Beryl couldn’t help but be in awe of Jolyon as she continued to look him over, licking her lips.
‘Who was this man, er, god, really?’ She’d neither met or even seen anything or anyone like him before.
There was a palpable sense of atmosphere in this place and it grew as the mist seemed to embrace the darkness and withdraw from the otherworldly in the wake of the, ‘Lord of the Night, or Knight in Jolyon’s case anyway.
He would stop, looking back over his shoulder to make sure she was still behind him, encouraged her with his eyes to keep up with him. She smiled shyly and moved closer to the tall and mystifying wayshower. Satisfied, he turned away and continued onward.
Beryl felt the great silence enveloping everything as if time itself were suspended in a silvery web. She almost expected the mistress of the magical loom to strike at an opportune moment. She then found herself coming to an abrupt halt in front of several arched entrances, these facing the four directions. Jolyon stood on the threshold and extended a hand.
“We’re about to step into a deeper astral realm, so you better brace yourself for a few new experiences,” Jolyon warned her.
Beryl became acutely aware of her change of attire; her clothing fashioned after what she assumed to be the Grecian style, but couldn’t be sure. Her chemise was gone. She hadn’t noticed the exact moment that it changed. Guessed it happened the moment she crossed the threshold, this realization making her gulp and squeak. Jolyon turned to look at her, and smiled as she kept pace with the beautiful man. When she examined her new clothing, she felt the silver neck ring keeping the bodice in place, the loose gathered fabric flowed over her curvaceous figure, hugging her breasts and fanning into a short skirt that stopped mid-thigh. She felt the weighty black jeweled girdle that adorned her rounded hips, this item she supposed was forged from rose gold studded with lapis and amethysts. She luxuriated in the soft fabric of the skirt’s hem as it floated upon her bare skin in the cool night air.
Suddenly, Beryl found herself face-to-face with her sensei; the ancient priestess she knew as Lady Usagi, but the woman was different somehow; her hair seemed far longer than she remembered and the color was weird, nice weird, but unearthly. It cascaded to the backs of her legs in a loose tumble in contrast to her usual bunny-styled plaits.
Jolyon introduced her to Usagi, whom he addressed as Lady Aradia. She wore a figure-hugging gossamer shift that fell inches above her knees, the bodice white with dark symbols lining the neckline, and her alabaster shoulders bared, these kissed by the soft milky moonlight.
Beryl found herself involuntarily stepping forward to greet the woman. She had no control of her actions as she stood before the powerful mistress of magic; the silver amulet Aradia wore around her neck indicating her rank as high priestess of Strega. Beryl knew an ancient right was about to be performed.
In the priestess’s hand, she held an ornate silver goblet encrusted with precious and semiprecious stones. Its base embossed with ancient symbols associated with the elements, as were the bracelets adorning graceful wrists and ankles.
Aradia or Usagi; Beryl wasn’t trying to make distinctions at that point, was preparing herbs for the sacred rite.
“Child, do you come to the Goddess of your own free will?”
“I do, Great Lady. I offer myself and my heart to the Old Ones,” she found her lips forming the words with little effort and it felt right.
“It is well, and so therefore, my child, the initiation shall begin.”
Beryl stripped naked and lay on the altar. Jolyon nodded and smiled his reassurance as Usagi took her place behind the altar, standing over Beryl. The High Priestess began her incantation.
”Diana, Herodiana, Herodias, Abundia, Richella, Madonna Oriente, la Matrona / the Good Mistress, the teacher, the Greek Mistress, the Wise Sibilla, the Queen of the Fairies bring your blessings upon your daughter! Accept your supplicant from my celestial womb, she whom shall drink from the void, the pure dark, the power of the night to vanquish the thorns of darkness. Please, Persephone, Demeter, Hecate and Isis bless her with your powerful bounty and wisdom!”
The sky rumbled with thunder and the winds danced about the granite altar and grew more fierce with every passing second as whisperings, those of people, children and animals, she thought, swirled around them.
Upon the altar beside Beryl’s naked form, Usagi, as High Priestess of Sikelian Stregoneria placed the goblet on a small fire built into the octagonal ceremonial tablet and added wine and herbs. Much to Beryl’s surprise and disquiet, Lady Usagi took an Athame in her right hand; the hilt possessive of a beautifully decorated handle and drew blood from her wrist. Several drops of deep red fell into the goblet and she sealed the wound with a paste. Helping Beryl upright, the mistress of the rite placed the goblet beneath Beryl’s left breast and extracted the droplets of blood from the small cut into the goblet, these mingling with Usagi’s life-blood and the herbal infusion.
Using the Athame to stir the contents, she added another portion of the ceremonial red wine and placed the mixture back upon the flame.
After Beryl and Usagi drank the contents of the magical draft, she, as priestess then extending her alabaster arms, summoned the moon forces to charge the atmosphere to fever pitch. Usagi, as Aradia, placing her hands in Beryl’s, then spoke in an incomprehensible tongue. Beryl felt a surge of power moving back and forth between them.
---
Beryl found herself lying in a dark cave. She took a deep breath and then heard the fluttering and protestations of bats somewhere high overhead in the darkness. Alone and naked, she wasn’t the slightest bit cold nor afraid and closed her eyes. She felt warm and secure. Enveloped in a soft mauve light, a sense of sexual arousal swept over her trembling body. She then heard the sounds of buzzing insects growing ever louder until a jolt of electricity struck the base of her spine. She experienced orgasm.
She lay quiet within her dank sanctuary unable to move or utter a single sound. She then slid into the Sea of Mara, The Bitter One. She had fallen into the Underworld. Beryl was then initiated.
“You are ready, Beryl. You are Lady Pandora, mistress of the underworld, empowered to use the magic of the undifferentiated darkness to fight the evils of the Dark Ones. You shall rise as a new being, a Goddess emergent if you will… Now sleep child!”
Beryl was soaring, her spirit a weightless thought upon the night breeze. She felt the sense of exhilaration beginning to overwhelm her as she swooped over the landscape. In awe as she glided with little effort over rivers, forests, her silvery silhouette hugging the coastline, Beryl had not known such a sense of freedom and jubilation even existed.
Enchanted by the Mediterranean’s ceaseless rhythms, she was experiencing a shamanic trance or something akin to one. She then caught sight of a large flotilla of fishing vessels, the fishermen casting their handmade nets into the water. She decided to take a closer look.
She stood barefooted on the deck. Lanterns, fueled by olive oil were hanging over small shrines dedicated to Isis, Demeter, Persephone and Hecate with others venerated. The tiny altars placed in small alcoves at the bows of these vessels, the moon dancing upon the undulating waters; these almost like dancing flames as the sounds of ores and men barking instructions could be heard as the evening catch was hauled aboard.
She could see a child. She must have been twelve or thirteen, her red tresses tied into a ponytail dangling over one shoulder as the girl went about her task of gutting and cleaning the fish. A stack of cleaned sea faire soaking in brine as a second girl, a golden haired child about the same age, tossed another fish into the salty solution. Each girl wearing the Cima Di on a silver chain about their slender necks, the amulets representing the triple goddess, her symbols crescent moon, lotus, human hand, and the key. The girls also wearing a larger silver crescent Moon on a chain, symbolic of the legendary Sikelian Daughters of the Moon and their celestial queen.
Then a boy, an ebony haired lad, stood with hands on hips chuckling. He was egging on the girls. He was flanked by an entourage of older boys joking about, smiling at the girls who were pulling faces and threatening to place their fishy paws upon the rambunctious youth’s tunic now standing in front of his entourage.
She took a closer look. The girls, aside from being natives to the isle of fire, Etna’s smoky volcanic vent visible behind the children in the distance; their hands, forearms, thighs and faces smeared with fish oil as each girl slid about on their knees in front of their appointed workstations. Every now and then, the girls grabbed another fish to begin the gutting process all over again. The children looked happy and it was then she recognized them.
“The redhead is me!”
“Yes, and look at the little girl beside her, recognize her?” Jolyon prodded, he had been with her all-the-while on her… flight.
“Yeah, it’s Usagi, but how…”
“Look at the boys, recognize them?” Jolyon continued as if she’d not spoken.
“Mamoru, and there’s Kunzite and Jadeite, Neph and Zoi. I don’t understand. We were here and yet, in those dreams er, visions-“
“You have been here before on this world. The lives you lived were as they say in our current time, pit stops along the way, if I can put it that way. Oh, I just did. Karmic patterns are inconstant like the sea itself, and in this life, you all performed your pilgrimage to the shores of Knossos on Crete and Thera. Consider these fragments places of respite, echoes of simpler times, when all was innocence,” he said, in a disembodied voice.
Though not visible to Beryl’s eyes, Jolyon seemed both inside her head and all pervasive. She moved towards the young girls and her hand passed through her former self and the younger, Usagi. She gasped. The blue eyes flashed and looked at Beryl in recognition, a smile forming upon the girl’s lips. She could see her. The adolescent shifted her position, tossing her head of golden locks, slapping her thighs with her tiny hands and said one word, “Maga!”
Then the girl smiled, winked and turned away and both girls went about their work as before.
---
Beryl found herself standing atop a balcony, looking down on a multitude below, lost in thought and then raising a hand to greet her subjects.
“Queen Sarilia? I have your speech prepared,” the scribe said in a low, but awestruck tone.
“Thank you child.” She proceeded to read the scroll and the throng below was hanging on every word.
Later, once she had handed the scroll back to the copper-haired girl in a lemon-green shift, a sound like the wind reminiscent of a tornado sucked through a steel pipe all but deafened her. The screams, the crying and searing pain blurred her vision. As she fell backwards, she could see the Earth high overhead, she was once Lunarian, but it was long before the Silver Millennium. In that split second, her body was set ablaze in agony as she screamed at the precise moment the crystal javelin pierced her heart and her hemoglobin nectar gushed forth, staining her white shift and pooled around her dying form. The girl sobbed as she, in a futile attempt tried to stem the bleeding. It was useless.
“My Queen! No, by the gods, please don’t die!”
She was confused. Tumbling into the abyss, she couldn’t see the ground. She had hit something, the stone floor she thought, and then she was spinning in freefall. As the pain receded, she became aware of a fiery silver glow flickering about her wispy form. Jolyon’s wings were beating a steady rhythm as he took her vapor-like hand and they dove into a swirling funnel of flame and found themselves once again propelled into the night sky. Beryl’s ethereal ears popping as they flew above the clouds. She felt a surge of energy whoosh through her as a lattice of multi-colored light spun into a fiery cartwheel before them.
“The way home?” she laughed, “I was just getting the hang of all this.”
“Ah, but dearest Beryl, all good things must come to an end and daylight awaits, princess…”
“You flirt!” she said, as his face swam into view, she was in bed, naked and a coverlet barely concealing her breasts. She was smiling, “Good morning, Jolyon; wings gone, eh?”
“For now; if you see them, you’ll know something’s up, now sleepyhead, sleep.”
“Okay, good-night, er, morning; what time is it?”
“5 38 AM.”
“Shit, I need more sleep,” she murmured.
“Yes you do, and you’ve got four hours of it to enjoy; now sweet dreams,” he said, kissing her forehead.
Contented, she closed her eyes and was relieved to have had the most restful sleep she’d had in years.
