Gate: The High Priestess

I stepped through the vision gate into a world that had been devastated by the Eternal War between the light and shadow. The sky was red, emblematic of all of the blood that had been spilled in the war throughout time and stained the ground upon which I stood.  The wind and earth of that realm whispered in my ears of years long past. Beyond killing all those who once dwelt in peace and prosperity in that land, the spirits said, the unnatural rain had killed all of the plants and devastated the wildlife as well, creating a hellscape from what had once been a paradise unparalleled in all the worlds.

I began to mourn for all that had been lost and my tears fell upon the dust. When my first tear hit the ground, I felt a summons travel from my heart to someone who lived in this hellish world too. This someone began to come towards me from far away, taking the shape of a spirit of the wind and sky. I wept as the wind blew across the barren landscape towards me, increasing and blowing harder and harder, until suddenly a whirlwind spun around me and I stood in the center of a storm that had been summoned into being by my grieving heart.

I was buffeted by the winds of the spirit from the sky until something small and hard came flying out of the tornado.  It hit my cheek and stung like a tiny bee or wasp.  “Ow!” I said, annoyance taking the place of my grief. “Why are you throwing rocks at me?” I tried to move away from the spinning, whirling energy, but it surrounded me with its inescapable power so that I could not move.  Instead, I found myself getting angrier and angrier as I was pelted with more hailstones and could do nothing about it.

I held up my hands to show that they were empty of any weapons and tried to keep my anger from entering my tone. “My name is Heidi,” I yelled into the wind. “Who are you and why do you torment me? Tears hitting the earth are not the same as stones hitting flesh. Your response to my presence is unnecessarily violent and you are causing me some pain. If you stop this behavior now, I will not call my guardians to defend me. You really should let me go as they are not as forgiving or gentle as I.”

The storm abruptly ended and in the absence of the winds, I beheld the goddess named Creative Potential who represents the unlimited choices of form from the void of creation and she held the hand of her consort god Divine Inspiration who represents the ceaseless and unstoppable energy of the same.  Creative Potential dripped with the seeds of creation’s bounty while Divine Inspiration made each and every one of them grow. But their creations did not take root in this cursed wasteland and the sprouting seeds disappeared as soon as they hit the ground, though the divine pair never stopped producing and growing their seeds.

“Creative Potential and Divine Inspiration, I am honored to stand in your exalted presences once again. Why were you throwing your spiritual offspring towards me as hail?” I said. “They came from the storm so hard and fast that it hurt.”

“Because no one listens, no one hears us,” said the goddess.

“No one cares, no one loves us,” said the god.

I rubbed my cheek ruefully.  “I hear you loud and clear,” I replied. “I would offer you my unconditional love but I do not wish to receive more abuse from you in return. We need a better way to communicate our true natures with one another.”

“Do you hear us, Messenger?” Potential said.

“Do you love us, Heidi?” Inspiration said at the same time.

Before I could respond, the pair gave each other a mournful look and turned into a tumbling pile of seeds.  As living seed, the goddess and god rolled downhill from where I stood and picked up speed before disappearing into a low cave set at the base of the slope.

I approached the shadowy cave opening which looked disturbingly like a mouth, gaping wide and hungry.  My spirit companions, Badger, Dream, and Elephant, appeared at my side in their human forms as I peered into the cave, trying but failing to see anything within beyond waiting shadows.  “Do we have to go in there, Heidi?” asked Badger. “It looks unpleasant. There are so many other happier places we could go during our time together. Want to sit beneath the flower between the four worlds of the elements?”

“I know a place more civilized with creature comforts beyond imagination,” Dream said. “My villa is comfortable and warm, deep in a jungle world where you can meet so many new friends. They’d love you there.”

“The herd is seeking a new oasis among the dry plains of the desert regions,” Elephant said. “But even a long walk through an arid landscape is preferable to this blood-drenched, dead world with its unpredictable storms. Come on, Heidi, let’s go. The herd would love to have us walking among them again. You have so many more stories to share now.”

“You all have very good ideas and we will do them all in time,” I said, turning my attention from the waiting shadows. “But my Unity presence of creative energy, both the god and goddess of it, just disappeared into this cave. I think we have to go retrieve them from the underworld of this realm. For what is an Inner World without Creative Potential and Divine Inspiration? I suspect it would be just as dead as this one.”

“The spirits you saw were both male and female? Are you certain?” Badger said. When I nodded my head, he frowned and turned to Elephant and Dream. “We cannot let the shadows take them, especially not both of them. Agreed, Brothers and Warriors of Light?”

“Wait just a moment, Badger. Did they go into the cave of their own volition?” Dream said.

“I think it was on purpose,” I said. “They were upset about not feeling heard or loved. Then they changed into seeds of spiritual potential and ran down the slope into the underground.”

“A lot of unsprouted seeds?” Dream said. “Can you give us an estimate of how many?”

“We have no time for your counting games for this isn’t a Realm of the Timeless,” Elephant said. “Stop dilly-dallying around, Snake. We stand upon another front in the Eternal War. You have my strength and fortitude to brave the shadows of the trial ahead, Heidi.” He wrapped his mighty arms around my neck and changed into a golden torc on a short chain that glittered and shone in the darkness.

“It could be a Timeless world, if we want it to be. Anywhere can,” I said, preparing to move through my martial dance, but Dream shook his head in negation.

“That didn’t go so well last time. Remember how many legionnaires we lost in the worlds outside of Time? Elephant still goes on about it when you’re away so I’ll never forget even if I wanted to. I give you my intelligence, effortless transformation and way with words,” whispered Dream. “Fear no nightmares, Heidi, for I am with you. Have your dagger at the ready.” He put his hands protectively around my left wrist and changed into a golden bracelet.

“Lost is not the same as obliviated,” I said with a sigh. “It was a good idea in theory. I wasn’t aware then of the function of Time as a guardian of sanity, timelines, and so on. Plus the Timeless Ones who chose to join the Light have been our greatest allies in the Inner Worlds since that ill-fated quest. When I’m done balancing my personal light and shadow, I intend to find Michael’s lost legion, Badger, each and every one.”

“You mean your own for he gave them to you, didn’t he? Whatever happened or goes on to happen is the will of the Creator of All. Don’t think anymore about it. You did what you thought was best just like the rest of us. On that note, I give you all my love, Heidi, always. May I be as armor to you of the mind, heart and spirit,” said Badger as he took my other hand. “Let’s complete this mission and go back to our own worlds. It’s so much nicer there.” With a kiss to my hand, Badger changed as well so that I now bore all three of my stalwart companion spirits as golden chains.  Taking courage from their warm presence and shining light, I moved towards the subterranean cave once more, the metal of my chains ringing as I did so with a sound more like armor than decorative jewelry.

As I neared the entrance, I heard moans and cries of grief in the wind. A woman wept loudly with a chorus of despair made by additional murmuring male voices while she wailed.  “What a bleak place,” I said aloud to give myself courage. “I’m going to need more light to cross this threshold and maybe a happy tune too.”  I started to whistle to myself and in response to my song, my golden chains began to glow even more brightly than they already were. Though my whistling did not entirely banish the mournful sounds of the spirits within the cave from my reality, it lifted my heart and glittering with the strength, intelligence and love of my friends, I entered the shadow’s domain.

The cave was as dry as the rest of the world above and went deep into the ground. The light from my shining chains revealed primitive and spare art covering the walls on both sides.  This art seemed to speak aloud as I passed and told me a story as I moved deeper into the cave. These are the impressions I took from the cave walls:

Once upon a time, there lived a free people who desired to appoint a king from among themselves.

“For we are not wise enough to rule this land,” whispered the painted crowd. “How are we to know the will of the one who put the stars in motion? If we could but find him upon the earth or the one who most resembles him in all of creation, maybe that would be close enough to the truth so that we could make his exalted presence a reality among us and know his wisdom and goodness and mercy in this way.”

“There stands one who is very strong and I think that means he is also wise,” whispered one from among the crowd who was pointing towards another work of art upon the cave wall. “Isn’t godly strength and size the same as godly virtue and wisdom? Strength and wisdom walk hand in hand, do they not?”

The whisperer was indicating a tall, white painted figure who stood before a crowd of supplicants who kneeled before him. “I am as a giant among you and there must be a reason for this difference,” whispered the figure who stood head and shoulders above the others and not just because they were kneeling. “Make me your king and I will lead us upon a path of abundance for I will make the best decisions for all of us and in this way we will know the true will of the one who sent us to this time and place. I will serve you in this regard, not only for myself and my descendants but because you asked it of me and I too want to embody the will of the Creator of All in my life.”

In the next picture, the giant had a painted crown of metal and jewels upon his brow and his arms were raised in blessing above countless farmers and field workers who tilled the soil and planted fields of their lord’s kingdom, bringing in a bountiful harvest for their children, community and, most of all, their exalted king who was treated as a god among mortals.

“Did I not promise to bring you prosperity and peace?” whispered the white painted king. “Do I not keep my promises unto you? I did and therefore you will continue to serve me and mine for our kingdom’s success is proof that we embody the mysterious will of the Creator of All.”

The people began laying the best fruits of their labor at the feet of their king in order to honor him and encourage him to continue interceding with the Creator on their behalf. They sent their sons to be his warriors and strong arms in all of the world. They sent their daughters to serve food at his table and stand in his mighty shadow as his queen and companions. This tableau was repeated many times over countless seasons and years with numerous instances of prosperity and peace. Because of their repeated success, everyone in the kingdom began to believe in the innate goodness and true power of their chosen king, extending their worship to the ones who stood around him, the best that their kingdom had to offer.

“Perhaps I am a god as they say I am,” the white painted king whispered to himself, his warriors and companions as the years passed and his reputation grew. “I deserve all good things if that is the case. The best and most beautiful of all the kingdom made of the painted crowd’s lowly labor and efforts shall belong to me because I am their god in truth now. We shall call these beautiful offerings ‘gifts’ and if the ones I rule refuse to give me their best, I will take it with your help, my court. We shall call it ‘taxation’ for the good and rule of all. With the resources of our underlings and inferiors at our disposal, together we will conquer all the lands of the earth and I will make you all kings and gods just like me. This must be the will of the one who put the stars in motion otherwise I would not have been able to even imagine it.”

“You are as a god to us,” whispered the court of the white painted king. “We are as gods too when we are close to you. We shall gather the best in your name, bring them here, and increase your power upon the earth in order to give you all the honor and glory you deserve as our god. All who walk the surface of the earth shall know the Creator’s will through you, Lord of All, and us, your chosen court, the best this world or any other has to offer.”

In the next work of cave art, the white painted king was wielding a whip whereas before he had been issuing a blessing to the painted crowd with open and empty palms. The Lord of All who held the whip cracked it over the head of the sea of humanity before him.  “You do not give me your best and you force me to hurt you to extract your best,” whispered the king. “Why do you make me hurt you? If you only loved me as well as I love you, I would not need a whip to encourage you in your labors. You disappoint your god, my people. Where is your best?”

“We are sorry, Great One,” whispered the farmers, warriors, and companions all. “We will work harder and be more deserving of your godly love.” The earthly laborers grew crops and delivered their yields as before, causing the piles of food and resources of the king to grow higher and higher in quantities that had never even been imagined before. The warriors trained day and night to serve on the battlefields of the one they began to call the Great Warrior King among themselves. They bathed in the blood of the enemies of the white painted king, bringing countless allies to his kingdom and growing its boundaries far beyond the lands they knew and loved through their mighty efforts.

Some among the warriors began to drink the blood as well, developing an unnatural appetite for their enemies and craving this food during the increasingly rare moments of peace in the lands of the white painted king. “Feed us,” the warriors said, laying their weapons at the feet of their god and king. “We hunger to spread your glory throughout the worlds.”

“This is a good and honorable way to exist in my exalted presence and to prove your worth to your god,” said the white painted king. “Drink from my cup of war and domination and you shall never thirst again.” The king gestured and from the shadows a child with a cup filled with blood came from behind his throne. The child gave it as sustenance to the warriors so that they would not turn on each other to slake their never-ending thirst for the stated enemies of their god and king.

The white painted queen, the mother of this cupbearer, watched from the shadows of the throne as her child bound all the mighty warriors with her own blood, a secret that none but the white painted king, queen and cupbearer knew. “All I am or may become belongs to you, Great Warrior King,” said the queen. “Companions, you must prove your worth to your god as I have. Where is your best? The only coin I will accept on my king’s behalf is blood.”

In response to the queen’s demands, the companions of the court festooned themselves with beautiful clothing made of plants and animal skins, put glittering symbolic metal upon their limbs, and exerted themselves in an effort to give the ever-hungry and blood-thirsty warriors their resources so the kingdom of the white painted king could continue their conquests and growth. As they starved and shaped their bodies with knives to appear more pleasing when they could not change them otherwise, the companions prayed to garner the Lord of All’s attention and love and, if they could not secure the white painted king’s personal desire, then they focused upon the most godlike of his warriors and generals.

As well as embodying the most desirable versions of themselves they could be for the gaze of the one who stood above them all, the companions paid for their position at court in blood, giving birth to strong and mighty sons for their god and king. These children of the chosen became the legions and cupbearers for the white painted king’s battlefields while their daughters became the next companions and empty vessels for the blessed seed of the god and his generals.

“You have no worth beyond your ability to give progeny to the white painted king,” whispered the queen. “Companions, prove your worth. Woe to you if your child is unworthy of his majesty or you cannot perform your function in the Great Warrior King’s domain.” The women did as their queen demanded and died in numbers untold.

All in the kingdom, whether in the court or not, wept whether they succeeded or failed at their various endeavors because, despite their sacrifices in their various spheres of influence and the unquestioned gains made from all who contributed to his kingdom, still the white painted king’s whip flew above the painted crowd’s heads.

“Sorry is not good enough for not giving your best to your god. I do not desire your tears or apologies for failure,” said the white painted king. “Where are the best fruits of your labor? Where are your brightest, strongest, most beautiful daughters and sons? I have not seen them yet and I see with the eyes of the one who put the stars in motion. You and your blood shall give your best to me and until you do I will give you a reason to keep trying.” Crack went the whip and everyone went about their days bent beneath the will and unforgiving, judgmental eyes of their god king.

“He asks the impossible,” one of the farmers whispered to another as they toiled in the fields. “He kills our sons in his wars. He kills our daughters in their birthing beds while bearing his sons. Can you believe he calls himself a god in truth? A god would not kill our beloved children. He is Death incarnate.”

“Wasn’t he one of us before we put a crown on his head?” whispered another. “A very tall and strong farmer?”

“Farmer or hunter or something else entirely, it doesn’t really matter anymore. He whom we made can be unmade,” whispered a third. “He who was exalted can be thrown down. One whip cannot crack over every head in the painted crowd at the same time.”

“There are his personal warriors and companions to consider but we outnumber those courtly figures too. We shall throw down this tyrant and choose a better king next time, if there is a next time,” said the first who had spoken. “The one who put the stars in motion will forgive our efforts to understand their unknowable will through this corrupted ruler. If this was not so, we would not have been able to imagine otherwise. What happens next must be the true will of the Creator of All not this blood-soaked nightmare.”

In the next work of cave art, I saw the painted crowd rising up and tearing the crowned white painted king and those who stood around him to pieces.  One of their number cut up the cruel whip that had so injured them and threw it away, back to the shadows from which it had emerged.  In the wake of their revolution, the sea of humanity was shown dancing, feasting, and singing in victory.

As they walked, lived, and loved beneath the skies in freedom, they spoke softly among themselves, excusing their violence against the white painted king and court because of their new existence in peace. “Whyever did we desire a king?” the painted crowd whispered to themselves. “We yet live in prosperity and abundance so what real gifts did he bring to our kingdom? This is far better to live without the lord’s whip and demands upon us. No matter that we spilled his blood for as he did to us, so we did to him. Our children’s blood was on his hands long before his blood was on ours. He deserved all that befell him, especially for saying he was a god to be placed above us all when he was only a man. He deceived us and he was a liar, the biggest liar in all of creation. He deserved his untimely end and we would do worse unto him if he stood before us again, knowing now what we didn’t know then.”

However, in the back of this artwork, within a hidden cave far away from the kingdom’s celebration of life without a whip in the hand of a white painted king, a dark figure with a crown of metal and jewels sat on a throne of shadows. She appeared heavily pregnant and had a few attendant shadows waiting upon her, the sad remnants of the once-worshipped court of the white painted king.

“My god, my king, your court and I suffer without your presence in our lives,” the white painted queen cried from the shadows. “How could they kill the god who walked among them? Who shall be the judge of what is best and encourage others to their greatest efforts for our kingdom? My god would never allow this to happen and neither shall I. I shall have the son of the white painted king and give back to the painted crowd the ruler they anointed as first among them, a god among mortals in my heart and reality, restoring the true will of the one who put the stars in motion in their lives.”

A few of the warriors who had tasted of the queen’s cup of blood yet remained upon the earth for they had escaped the rage of the painted crowd. They gathered around her in supplication along with the remaining companions of their number. “We worship you, Queen of Blood,” they said, throwing themselves to the floor of the cave. “Slake our thirst, first for your restored glory and second for vengeance for our slain god and king. You are the most beautiful in our eyes as you were in his and deserve all good things, now and forever.”

The eyes of the white painted queen glittered in the darkness of her hidden cave. “I deserve all good things, this is true for I shall be the mother of the next god and king. How blessed am I among all women who walk the surface of the earth today. I am a goddess too, for how could a mortal give birth to a son of god. She would be slain in the emergence of his godly presence among us. Furthermore, why would I have been chosen as a god’s vessel if I was not his equal? I deserve the best from all the earth if this is so. Shadows of the white painted king’s court, give me your best. Fail and I shall cast you out, to wander the worlds until you have learned your lesson, eaten despair for your bread and consumed powerless water from your cup.”

“We love you, Queen of the Blood Royal,” whispered the shadows. “We are you, goddess, and we shall give you our best.”

In the next work of art, the Queen of Blood and Darkness and the newly-formed shadow court was shown giving birth to a white painted baby, identical in hue and form to the overthrown Great Warrior King from the time before.  The child grew, sheltered from the outside world in the cave of his mother, a realm ruled by darkness and fear because of all that had gone before and been lost. After the child grew into his manhood and promised power, the enthroned secret queen sent her son out of the safety of her cave into the kingdom of the now leaderless painted crowd.

“Go, my son and walk among the lowly born of the forests and fields,” the queen and mother said. “Say that you are the son of a goddess, born to rule, and nothing of your godly father who was killed by those you will walk among. You are so like him, tall, strong and commanding in presence and that is why they raised him up in the first place. They will say you are a god reborn because of how you appear and you will believe them because that is what you really are both by blood and birth. I, Abaddon, your mother, would not lie to you. I cannot lie for I am a goddess, chosen by your father from among the many unworthy who tried to appear as beautiful and desirable as I but couldn’t for they are not like me and they are not like you. Go and rule the world, my beloved son, god and future king. You deserve nothing less.”

The son knelt before the goddess who was his mother. “I will endeavor to be worthy of your gift of life unto me,” he said. “I swear all in creation will learn to honor and fear the Son of Abaddon. I will do this because of what was done to my father, your god and king, and also because I love you.”

“As I love you,” whispered the mother who hid in the darkest shadows of the deepest cave on earth. “As I loved your father. Make them worship you as they worshipped him. Gather the best around you and make them your court. Demand the best from them and accept no failures. Do all these things because you are the best in all creation, Son of Abaddon, and their future god and king.”

The final work of cave art was just like the first, the white painted figure stood before the painted crowd and they worshiped him as he held up his hands in benediction, provided the best of all creation for him, then moved on to the next best son when the king’s time among them had ended.  This tableau repeated itself within the same work again and again. Sometimes the kings’ endings were violent, other times not, but the cycle always had a predictable beginning and inevitable end.

There was another secret constant that only those who ruled knew. For throughout the cycles of rulership and the rise and fall of earthly kings, the shadowy queen with the cupbearer of blood who called herself a goddess named Abaddon sat on her throne in the far cave, hiding from those who had thrown down the one she had made a god in her life and heart. Somehow, through the arcane power of her cup, she was always the same, ageless and beautiful beyond compare, always pregnant for that was what she was when the painted crowd sacrificed the white painted king, and always ready to send a new Son of Abaddon from her secret cave to rule the world of men when her previous son’s life came to an end.

“The living will of the one who put the stars in motion will come from my blood,” she whispered to the attendant court of her cave who was as immortal and unchanged as she. “You will see and understand my words one day, Warriors and Companions. One of my sons will return to us to bring me, the white painted king’s chosen queen and goddess, back into the light of creation and then you will all know I speak the truth. On that day, white painted court of the slain god and future king, you will walk into the light with me and we will no longer need to hide ourselves in fear from the painted crowd. My son will ensure this is so. He is a god as was his father before him. He will remake the world in his image and we will rule over all through him.”

With the Shadow Queen’s words whispering in my ears, I came out of the trance caused by the cave art and realized I had reached the end of the tunnel.  It opened out into complete darkness and the void of one of the deepest shadows in existence, far beneath the surface of a dead world.  I heard someone whispering my name as clearly as the art had whispered to me on my journey into the earth.  “Heidi…” the voice came from all sides of the cave.  “Heidi… Let us taste the vintage of your cup and measure your worthiness.” I could see nothing but, for the first time in all of my journeys into the other worlds, I felt very afraid.  A resilient, powerful, ever watchful shadow existed here and not only was she waiting for me, she knew my name and hidden nature.

“Badger, Dream, and Elephant, I need you to defend me from this nightmare. Please attend unto me,” I said and my guardians burst from their golden chains to stand beside me in the darkness.

The voice in the darkness started to laugh in derision. “Ones such as these cannot see in my realm,” said the power from the cave and my companions cried out in terror as their eyes went dark with blindness. “They cannot speak their fears to you or each other,” she continued and the spirits of my heart no longer had mouths. They bumped into me and each other in the darkness of the cave in sightless, wordless terror.

“They do not know who you are for you are not a Son of Abaddon or Companion of the same,” whispered the voice and my dearest friends wandered away from me, lost in the darkness of the ancient shadow’s cave. “How dare you come into my realm, Cupbearer of Water. You are no goddess like me. Oh Heidi, poor, poor sonless woman, you are no god vine either. You are just a passing shadow and born to live and die beneath the whip of my incomparable sons, your gods and future kings.”

“Who are you?” I asked, gazing helplessly into the murk. “I am Heidi as you know but also a Servant of Love and the Creator of All, something which you may not know. My friends and I trespassed in this place because two spirits whom we could not lose to the shadows entered here. In the name of Love and the unknowable will of the Creator, you may keep Creative Potential and Divine Inspiration if you only give me back my companions. They are not your sons as much as I am not your Cupbearer or daughter. We will leave you to your shadows, Great One, if you let us leave this place and we will never return to bother you again. I will put up signs, warning all from the other worlds to stay away from this kingdom and cave. They will listen to me because I do not lie about those I meet in my sacred quest to discover the mysteries of creation and the vision of my calling to the same.”

“I have no daughters, foolish mortal,” the voice said. “Sons alone are mine. You are nothing but an empty vessel, born for their entertainment and repast.” A small, white moth appeared from the void, fluttering her shining wings which shone like a star in the darkness, and revealing two dark eyes on her wings which could see through the layers of cave shadow I stood within and into my most secret heart.

“I am no empty vessel, Great One,” I said, pulling my cup from my spirit to prove my words. “I think your long exile in this cave has made you thirsty and clouded your vision. Drink from my cup if you desire. It is from Love and will quench the thirst of whatever it is that troubles your spirit.”

The laughter in the darkness began again and it was echoed by unseen presences who began to gather all around me. “I and those of the white painted king’s court see you more clearly now, Heidi, and you have further revealed your true and powerless nature through your words. I may not be sated by any drink other than blood and I have many names,” said the moth. “Since you come into my hidden home and place of power, you will call me by one of my oldest names, Abaddon. I am a goddess among mortals and I say who is mine and who is not. That is not yours to determine, lowly, ugly, stupid woman of the forests and fields of creation. Furthermore, Creative Potential and Divine Inspiration were and always have been mine. How foolish to think they were not mine or that you could wrest them from me.”

“If I am foolish, it is because I love the companions who walk upon the paths with me too well,” I said. “Love can make one as blind as any shadow to the potential dangers in our journeys within the worlds as well as voiceless out of fear of losing these great loves. Have mercy upon me, Abaddon, and let me and my companions go. They are the best I have found in all the worlds and I would not walk the paths without them by my side.” As I spoke, love began to beam from my heart in the form of a star or sun beneath the surface of the earth, filling the cave with the brightness of the unconditional love I feel for Badger, Dream and Elephant.

Snarls began in the place of the mocking laughter and I felt the unseen presences move my way, drawn closer to me by the light streaming from my heart. “White painted court, control yourselves,” said Abaddon. “There will be time enough for her consumption after I have broken her spirit.” I sent my cup back into my spirit and drew my dagger from my hip as the moth from the cave depths began to swing and flip through the air.

“Be warned, Fearsome Abaddon,” I said. “My dagger is called Love and cuts deeply. Though you took my companions, I am yet armed by their mercy, grace, and unconditional love. I will defend myself if you insist upon spilling my blood and I will teach you to fear the dance of the Timeless Ones. Those who love me prepared me for all eventualities, even fighting the shadows alone.”

Silence met my words as I observed the shining moth was actually the end of a tail connected to a spirit made entirely of shadows who slunk out of the deepest darkness. She had glowing wings exactly like her moth-tipped tail and her eyes were the same as the back of the moth’s wings, huge, black, and empty and able to see through any shadow in creation. Upon the spirit’s head, there sat a crown made of the night sky without stars and trails of blood marked the shadows upon her face, the remnants of tears shed for her slain god and king.

“You would threaten me, Child of Nature and Worthless Cup? Do you think you are the first to shine your unwelcome light into my darkness?” hissed Abaddon. “I am the Queen of Blood, the goddess of the dark, and mother of the kings and gods of all the civilizations of your worlds. I cannot believe you saw my true nature on the cave walls and yet persisted on your walk into my cave. You could have taken warning from my art and story and turned back at any time to save yourself and your companions. I have undisputed control over this reality through my progeny which I produce under the auspices of Creative Potential and Divine Inspiration both. The living will of the Creator of All shall come from my blood; this has been foretold.” The goddess cracked her moth tail in my direction like a whip.

“No one knows the will of the Creator of All, not even I who have searched the worlds for it,” I said, brandishing my dagger at Abaddon. “How could you say the same when all you know of creation is this lightless cave, your domineering sons, and your never-ending thirst for blood.”

“How dare you. Kneel before me while you beg for mercy, stupid woman, for you stand in the presence of a goddess. I bring despair and death to the unwise,” she said, gazing into my eyes from out of the void of her cave.  “I am deathless, breathless, and eternal, the mother of the most mighty Servants of Fear and the best in this world as well as all the others. You are not of the best as all can clearly see, so speak your final pretty words, Servant of Love and hopeless aspirant of knowledge of the will of the Creator, and then you may die knowing I will still be here, sending out my sons to rule your inferior blood, while you rot in the ground with the rest of your worthless kind, the painted crowd who killed my god and king.”

“I kneel for no one except they who put the stars in motion,” I said, beginning the martial and marital dance of the Timeless. “You are as a passing shadow to me and an illusion of control through blood, a nightmare of the ancient world. I shall dance you into oblivion and the void with my mere presence. Begone, Servant of Fear and Queen of nothing but dust.”

“You will live only long enough to beg for mercy before I drink your blood,” Abaddon said. “Come, my sons, my beloved and godly sons, and kill this trespasser and pretender to our kingdom, court and crown. Attend unto me, the one who brought you into this world.”

As the shadow of the Mother and Queen of the Lord of All sent my Badger, Dream and Elephant back towards me out of her darkness, the other Sons of Abaddon came from the depths of the cave at their mother’s command. My companions still could not see, but sharp fangs grew from their newly reopened mouths which matched the exposed fangs of the one who called them ‘son’. “Capture her and cut her heart out, Domitian,” called one of the sons. “I took the fall last time.”

“Shut your mouth, Snake,” said the son who looked like my Dream. “This one’s light makes my head ache as much as your voice.”

“I will call this one my own,” said the son who looked like Badger. “The ugliest ones are always mine. It’s their dog-faced mothers who are the problem.”

“No, it is you who are the self controlless dogs,” said the son who looked like Elephant. “I trained for years for this moment. This one’s life’s blood is mine and I will kill any who deny my claim.”

“She’s fat enough for all three of you,” Abaddon hissed. “Kill her now and jostle for position later.”

“This is not real or the will of the Creator of All,” I said, dancing and darting throughout the cave in an effort to dodge the words that were coming from my loved ones like arrows as well as the reaching claws from the other unseen and as-yet unknown sons. “It cannot be. To take those you love and make them think you are their enemy is a tactic used by the shadow to make us believe that our love was merely conditional, not reciprocated or not true. You are merely a shadow on the wall of reality, Abaddon, and cannot take my love from me. No shadow can do that.”

“I am very real, as are they,” said Abaddon. “If you hold still, their embrace will prove this fact to you. Why can’t you remember, Water Vessel, that I am a goddess, not shadow, and I own this fountain head of creativity and fertility, not you. The three you carried into my cave in your chains are my sons whom I sent out into the worlds and in them I am well pleased for look what gifts and potentials they have brought to honor me, their mother and goddess.”

The light from my heart and dance flared as Abaddon held up one wrist and dragged her claws down it until blood flowed from the shadow that composed her form.  Beside her, the pile of my seeds of Potential and Divine Inspiration that had rolled down the slope into her cave appeared and she covered the seeds in her own blood. “All of these spirits who are yet to be are also my sons, not yours, and they never shall be. Since you cannot dance me back into the shadows, a lowly mortal woman hopelessly mismatched against a goddess and countless gods of her blood, your seed is now my seed by right of conquest and dominion.”

A cheer arose from the observing sons in the cave. “Hurry up, Lucius, you old goat,” one of them cried. “If you don’t finish her in the next five minutes, I can’t promise to remain on the sidelines anymore.” Badger, Dream, and Elephant chased me furiously through the darkness as I danced in fear for my life, lashing out with my dagger when my companions came too close but, after a few rounds, I discovered any cut I gave them appeared upon me so I sheathed my weapon and focused on my Timeless dance instead, remaining a hairsbreadth ahead of their claws and gaping mouths.

“Wake up, Elephant, your brethren would hang their trunks in sorrow if they could see you now,” I whispered breathlessly. “Don’t you remember how we laughed and drank beer until neither of us could stand? Dream, you have no fangs to drink my blood, don’t you remember? You gave them both to me. Badger, my dear Badger, my own self, we walk in our own dreams now, not some Great Shadow. Wake up, all of you, and remember your true natures.”

Our dance, which was not a dance but a battle for existence, continued on until I felt my strength beginning to flag and took a deep cut from Dream’s claws on my abdomen. I clutched both hands to my stomach and soldiered on, desperate now to either end the battle or find my way back out of Abaddon’s cave but even in my darkest hour I could not find it in myself to desert my friends. My growing desperation was perceived by Abaddon herself for she began to speak to me again.

“I underestimated you and find you very impressive, Empty Cup. If you kneel and worship me right now, I will allow you to live and your companions too though they will remain blind and voiceless in my court for how you presented yourself to me, unshaped by effort and wreathed in excess fat,” Abaddon said. “If you abase yourself completely and make yourself into a presentable companion, maybe when the time comes I will consider giving my place in creation and future potential to your Shadow. She knows how to direct the ancient energy of the white painted court correctly because she understands the meaning of control and the true power of a goddess embodying a Servant of Fear as much as I. She is a much better reflection of the Creator of All than you because she knows the sting of my whip for she came to me in secret long ago, seeking help in shaping her best self. As your shadow joined my court so shall you.”

“My Shadow did what?” I exclaimed, my mouth dropping open in horror as I stopped dancing at last. “How could she do such a thing without my knowledge? We are ruled by none by the Creator of All, she knows that. She makes me so angry, doing things in my name that I would never do. How dare she.” At the mention of my uncontrollable Shadow, I felt the love being driven out of my heart by a righteous fury and in the place of shining unconditional love, a new light like the blood red beacon of a dying sun began to shine from my heart. This changed light revealed my companions who had been possessed by Abaddon were inches away from me now, preparing to jump on me and consume me to remove my unwelcome presence from her shadowed reality.

“Take her, my sons,” Abaddon said. “Wrap her in chains and dump her in the grotto with the other hopeless water spirits until she conforms to our standards of excellence.”

“Badger, stop! Elephant and Dream, it’s Heidi. Tell me you know me,” I said as their grasping claws began to wrap my form in unbreakable chains of shadow, blood and darkness. “I love you and I won’t fight you, not you. Please don’t consign me to the water prison. My love and light is yours if you want it, freely given. These are not the chains we chose to wear. In the name of the one who put the stars in motion, I beg you to remember that you’re not Sons of Abaddon, you came from above with me from a different world entirely. Can’t you remember who you were to me and each other before we entered this cave? Badger, please, it’s Heidi. My heart is yours, don’t you remember?”

I raised my arms even as I was being weighed down to the floor of the cave with the heaviness of my companions’ stolen memories and power. “I will make you remember,” I said. “I, the mother of Mouse and partial Unity of Amor Omnia Vincit, say this nightmare shall not continue.”

Between the balance of love and anger in my heart, I lost control to my anger as I saw the full extent of Abaddon’s fearful power and control over my companions and all who dwelt in the shadows of her cave. Despite my pleading, Timeless dance and illuminating light, they didn’t know who I was, who they were, or remember how I loved them. All they knew was that I was a bright light and cup, and they were very thirsty for love and power as they were Sons of Abaddon and desired nothing more than to walk beneath the light of the sun outside of her hidden cave once again. They had become Servants of Fear rather than Love and my nightmare made manifest. I became a spirit of rage myself as I realized I had lost all I loved and words fell unbidden from my lips, drawing power from the dark chains I now bore in place of my shining gold.

“It is you who will now be forced to beg for mercy from me, demon of the ancient world. You have revealed yourself through your scheming to give your power to my Shadow and now I know exactly what and who you are, Abaddon,” I said. “You are not the true power of this cave or the worlds of men or any other. You are only the shadow of the Divine Mother who may take any form she desires and give forms to the formless as it pleases her, calling all in creation her sons and daughters for it is universally so. As only a shadow of a greater power, you and your attendant fears, threats, and sons are not real. I say in my Inner Worlds there is only a stream of goodness flowing from the Creator of All down through his servants whatever ruling power they may observe. From this stream, even that of dread Fear Himself, there is only the light of love that shines upon creation. I am so angry at the deception of my dearest companions and your control over them. I will kill you myself to prove my words are so.”

The red light from my heart reached a peak, forcing the shadows back from where they danced around me and even my own eyes, revealing every spirit in the cave from the first to last. The Queen herself was clearly visible, standing as a giant among her children, and I rejoiced that she had made herself such an easy target. As I prepared to throw my dagger at the very heart of Abaddon, I saw a tiny gleam of gold light and looked down at myself. To my astonishment, I observed my beloved companions were still with me and had been with me the entire time, wrapped tightly about my arms and throat in chains of gold. The chains of shadow had disappeared, consumed by my fierce anger as if they had never been. “Who are you to me?” the gold chains whispered in the voices of my loved ones. “All whom we meet in the other worlds are aspects of ourselves that we do not yet remember. Who are you to me?”

“You have forgotten me,” came the voice of Badger, Dream, and Elephant, speaking as one. “You have forgotten yourself.”

“You do not hear me,” they spoke again. “You do not hear yourself.”

“You never remember anything, Woman,” whispered a single voice alone and all that I was came back to me in a flash of insight and intuition.

“My name is Heidi and I come from another world seeking the true nature of all I encounter. I have lost myself to the shadows,” I said. “It was promised that this would never happen, not to the Messenger on her mission and certainly not to me.” I closed my eyes and began to pray. “Creator of All and Love, I called my guardians into Abaddon’s cave in fear and because of my fear that she would take them from me, she controlled them through their own shadows,” I said. “I will not make that mistake again and beg forgiveness for losing my temper and becoming a Servant of Fear when what I needed to do was have faith and hope that all could move according to your divine will. In your names, I call them now to stand at my side and face this Great Shadow. In the name of Love, Badger, Dream, and Elephant, please defend me from this nightmare called Abaddon. I throw myself on the mercy of the one who put the stars in motion.”

“Show her I love her, Mother,” whispered once-voiceless Eternity from my chains. “For I cannot.”

In response to Eternity’s quiet voice, my companions came snarling and raging out of the gold chains wreathing my form and tore into their demented shadow selves in Abaddon’s cave. “In the name of Love,” they said as they went to war with their own shadows. “For Love and the Creator of All!” As bedlam erupted, spirits I have never seen began to pour out of my chains, following their brothers to war in Abaddon’s cave. “For Love, Family, Honor and Glory!” they cried. “For those in Time and those outside of Time!”

More bright lights streamed into being, pouring from the Timeless Realms through my chains into the cave. “For the Great Warrior King,” came the cry. “For Queen and Country! For God and his angels of mercy!” Some of the spirits issued war cries in languages I have never heard. Others began to dance their own Timeless dances, their lightning quick motions blending with the more traditional warrior styles to create a battle that was as much a work of art as it was a war.

“For Love and all that was lost!” screamed a son who looked like Mars. “Formless Legions, attend unto me.” Like magnets drawn to their match, the spirits began pouring from the walls of the cave towards their warrior kings among the furiously battling Sons of Abaddon, soldiers who fought together in times long past and were fighting again in the underworld, the Eternal War that never ends against the echoes and shadows of all they once were.

A final spirit stepped from my chains and stood before me, a primal being of such power that I was struck blind in his emergence and could only listen helplessly as the lost legions of the Sons of Abaddon manifested in that dark hour. “For all in the garden and without,” said the voice of the one called Adam. “Even though you loved them more than me, heartless Eve of Shadow. I will fight for you. May you see with my eyes.” The shadow fell from my eyes and I beheld a war taking place in the underworld on my behalf and tears of grief took the place of my blindness.

“I am not heartless nor a shadow. I love you more than myself,” I said when Abaddon screeched in rage so loud that all in the cave put their hands over their ears to try to block out her voice.

“I am the power of this place. I own these potentials, all of them, and I am a goddess,” screamed Abaddon and the female shadowy figure she had presented to me ripped apart to reveal a towering black dragon with moth’s wings, spouting breath made of the fires of hate and fear. The demon’s primal self screeched and came towards me with her head lowered and her tail swinging wildly. “Sons of Abaddon, now is the hour to prove your loyalty to me. Return to me from all the worlds, my sons, my strong arms in all of creation. Your mother calls you. Attend me. Kill my enemies for they are your own. Drive this imposter back into the dust she emerged from to take your place as gods in this world.”

“So-called Sons of Abaddon, this is not your mother, not this fear-mongering shadow of heresy and hate,” I shouted into the face of the void. “The Divine Mother gives form to us all, freely and because of her unconditional love for creation and the Divine Father. Furthermore, control over others through fear, even family of your own blood is an illusion. The only relationship that we can ultimately affect is the one between our eternal spirit and the spirits of those we encounter through choices made by our own free will.  She is not your mother and she is not love and you owe her no loyalty nor debt. She is Fear embodied and a false god. End her tyranny today. In the name of Love, please do this thing for yourselves if not for me.”

As I spoke, I heard the one called Adam whom I could no longer see, but hear only, begin to repeat my words in his own voice. In response to the one who gave them their names, the shadows began to dissolve as the light of unconditional love began to stream from the hearts of all the warriors in the cave. “I want to wake up,” I said and Adam echoed me. “I want to leave this nightmare for a place with starry skies, flowing streams of fresh water, and new life, a new start for all of us in all the worlds. What do you desire, Sons of Abaddon?”

“I own you. I own you,” Abaddon screeched over and over, cracking her whiplike tail above my head, trying to bring me to my knees. “Sons, I give this shadow unto you. Consume her heart and live forever. Be the gods you were born to be.” I closed my eyes and spirit against the demon’s threats and warring shadows even as I feared for the lives of those I loved more than any others.

“The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen,” I whispered to myself and Adam who spoke my words in a world-ending shout so that all in the cave could hear. “You’ve seen the truth. You’ve learned her story through the cave art. You’ve even met the one who casts her shadow. You know this Divine Mother’s shadow for what she truly is, merely a fevered dream of one who called herself a goddess among mortals long ago and nothing more. Just keep breathing, Sons of Abaddon, and remember to ask the Creator of All to reveal their hidden will to you.”

I squeezed my eyes even more tightly shut and offered a prayer from my heart for divine guidance for myself and the world because this was an ancient cyclical power who far exceeded my ability to permanently banish back to the void even though I could see through the shadows around her as well as the one she cast on reality. “Please Creator of All have mercy upon those who walk through the Shadow of Abaddon,” I prayed. “Please in the name of Love, save us all from her cruel control and lies. If it is thy will, please do it now.”

For a brief time, I heard the sounds of my guardians and companions vanquishing their shadows near me.  Then my powerful rage began to abate, and I felt a profound sense of exhaustion entering my mind and heart. I sank to the stone floor of the cave to rest my head upon my arms and all became silent within my spirit and without. For a little while, I slept and had a dreamless rest upon the floor of Abaddon’s cave.

When I awoke from my dreamless state, I was gazing at a tiny moth, sitting on the floor next to my head.  Again, I heard my name coming out of the darkness. “Heidi,” said the moth. “Heidi, Heidi, Heidi.”

“I am here now,” I said. “Though only through the assistance of others and by the grace of the one who put the stars in motion. Who calls to me?” I extended my right index finger, and the moth of the cave delicately alighted upon it.

“You have passed through the Divine Mother’s shadow and thus earned your audience with me, the High Priestess,” said the moth and a tremendous light burst into existence within the cave.

The moth upon my finger was connected to a strand of hair that led to a spirit in the shape of a woman with long, flowing hair.  At the end of each strand, which were individually as insubstantial as a spider’s web, there fluttered moths with shimmering wings of various nightshades and trembling, feathery antennae.

The goddess had wings upon her shoulders like the moths of her hair and they fluttered behind her, giving off a prismatic light that was difficult to look upon after the all-consuming shadows of the other cave.

“Hail, Great One,” I said, inclining my head in respect. “I feel fortunate that I still have my sanity and the ability to speak with you. My companions may yet be lost to me for I did not see if they conquered their own shadows in Abaddon’s lair. Why did I have to pass through that frightening trial to meet you?”

A child giggled and I saw my Inner Child emerge from the voluminous robes around the High Priestess. She was closely followed by another child who dripped with unending seeds of potential and a third who glowed so brightly with inspiration that you could hardly look at him. The innocents offered me dimpled smiles and then ran deeper into the goddess’ cave, disappearing from my sight as they played an eternal game of spirit and being. “The Child was afraid,” said the moth-haired Priestess simply. “I would move heaven and earth to keep my Child free from fear.”

“Afraid of me?” I said. “I am not one to be feared, especially by a child, for I have a daughter of my own whom I love and care for.”

“She was deathly afraid of what and who you might have brought with you,” the High Priestess said. “Afraid that growing up might have so twisted you that you had forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” I asked.

“The playfulness and mercy of the eternal,” the goddess replied. “The immortal and ageless reality of the Inner Child. The shadows love to make the world forget what it was like to be a child, reliant on the unconditional love of those around them and seeing all in existence through the clear eyes of the Creator of All.”

“Well, the Inner Child managed to scare me half to death,” I said. “I thought for a moment I had lost my ability to love and all of my guardian spirits.  I thought someone beyond my power was going to plunge me into darkness to wander the shadow realm for eternity. I thought I had lost the favor of Love and failed in my quest to seek the mysteries and patterns of creation as well as the truth of my initiatory vision.”

“Oh Heidi,” said the High Priestess. “You cannot believe the story that the Servants of Fear weave. I shall show you how it truly goes for the Servants of Love and those who serve the unknowable will of the one who put the stars in motion.”

The Priestess raised her moth wings and I saw, written upon them in letters of sparkling golden light, a version of the wall art that I had viewed in the cave.  On one side, I read about the Shadow Queen of Blood sitting on her far throne. The story off of the wing of the priestess said Abaddon gave birth to a son and told him he was a god among mortals. The Shadow Queen sent her son from her cave and told him to rule the world through fear because the multitudes had killed her king and god. Through the shining words, I could visualize the events so clearly in my mind as if I was looking at the cave art again as they actually happened.

On the other wing of the High Priestess, a story was revealed to my eyes and heart that had not been with the cave art of Abaddon. I read about a Queen of Light and Water of Love who was also enthroned within a cave hidden far away, who gave birth to the painted crowd whom the Shadow Queen’s son inevitably ruled over with his other Servants of Fear and cruel whip.

“All in existence are your brothers and sisters,” the Light Queen said. “As you leave my home and venture out into the world, remember to treat all you meet with kindness for in this way you will demonstrate the unconditional love I have for all of you, my children. How I love you. You are the most precious children to me in all creation for you are mine. Be patient with one another for all have shadows and remember you are all my family, even those who appear different from you. We are all here because of the one who put the stars in motion. Be a Servant of Love like me and if you are exalted in the world because of your strength of heart, mind, or your physical beauty, rule with love, not fear, and in this way you will honor me, your Divine Mother.”

In the High Priestess’ version of Abaddon’s story, when the Shadow Queen’s son was given his crown, a daughter of the Light Queen was chosen from the oppressed and given to him as consort, to rule beside him with his chosen warriors and companions. “Here is one of the best of us,” whispered the painted crowds of the Light Queen’s children. “Be kind to her for she is our sister and we love her as family. Be the best version of yourself you can be, Lord of All, for she deserves nothing less.”

“You remind me of someone I met once in a dream,” said the newly-crowned white painted king to his queen. “Have we met before?”

“All in existence are one,” whispered the white painted queen in a voice for her king alone. “Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”

“I am a god and you are not,” the white painted king said. “Those were the words of my mother, a goddess among mortals.”

“My mother always made me feel loved, even without words,” the queen said. “Though I do not view reality as you, my king, I shall give you the gift of unconditional love that she gave me and in this way, you will know her through me.”

“May it be as you desire,” the king said.

“And you as well,” the queen echoed.

In this story as in the previous versions, when the Lord of All became imbalanced and demanded more and more from those beneath him, demanding impossible perfection and harming those around him through fear, the painted crowd rose up and removed him from power.  As before, the daughter of Light, his earthly queen, was pregnant with his child when he fell from grace and power. However, this time the crowd did not tear down the queen as they had the king for they remembered their Divine Mother’s parting words to them and yet loved the queen though she had served a corrupted ruler with all her heart.

“We love you, Sister,” whispered the painted crowd as they tore apart the fallen king’s palace brick by brick. “We missed you as you walked in the exalted court of our anointed king, who lied about being a god among us. We are sorry for all you may have loved and lost. We love you still and will be your family now. Welcome home.”

The fallen queen gave birth to a girl and she died upon her birthing bed, the battlefield of the companions of the Sons of Abaddon and a final sacrificial offering of her own blood to the imperfect king who had once ruled and whom she had loved unconditionally.  The baby, whom she had brought to this world at the cost of her own life, was taken from those who knew the truth of her royal birth and hidden by the jubilant painted crowd who could not see what approached them out of the gathering shadows because of their temporary victory in that moment of time.

When the Shadow Queen sent forth another ruling Son of Abaddon as she always did, humanity parted to reveal the half Light and half Shadow progeny of the previous king whom they presented as one of their own, to protect her from the all-consuming darkness and vengeance of the Servants of Fear. “Here is one of the best among us,” whispered the painted crowds of the Light Queen. “Be kind to her for she is our sister and we love her as family. Be the best version of yourself you can be, Lord of All, for she deserves nothing less.”

“Isn’t she just one of us?” one of the observing crowd whispered as they put the young woman’s hand into the open hand of the Son of Abaddon.

“Shhhhh,” said another. “Who knows the will of the one who put the stars in motion? Certainly not I. Maybe this time our story will have a happier ending.”

Thus it came to pass, a fallen king’s own daughter, one who was already shown to be a mortal and not a god among men, was given as a sacrifice to the newest son of the Shadow Queen to rule beside him, gathering the best around the throne of the Lord of All, and all began again.

“I don’t understand this story upon your wings,” I said, rubbing my forehead in frustration.  “Why is it always a struggle with the Shadow?  Why must we push back at all when the ending is already written and as inevitable as the sun setting? We put people in positions of power, hoping and praying that they will show us the best version of themselves they can and it seems that they fail in this endeavor more often than not. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?”

“Eternity has no end and the patterns of the Creator reveal themselves to us again and again not to fill us with despair at their cycle, but to give us another opportunity to embody our best selves while facing our own shadows and imperfections,” said the High Priestess. “You read a story about a cycle of being, spiritual evolution, a fall from grace, and then being again. The Inner Child knew you had forgotten this universal truth. She knew and that is why she hid in my shadow so that you could remember.”

“I have forgotten nothing,” I said in anger at my feeling of helplessness in the hands of Fate. “I survived the Mother’s shadow, didn’t I?”

“But you didn’t see the point of it,” replied the goddess. “You didn’t see the reason for the eternal struggle or remember the guarantee of the triumph of goodness, losing yourself to despair and exhaustion while you faced your shadow. For it is written: From out of the darkness, there comes a great light, always. This is a promise of the Creator of All, the genesis of the one who put the stars in motion.” The moths, who had been fluttering about the High Priestess’ head in a cloud, settled upon her brow and shoulders.

“It is because of the Great Shadow Abaddon and her Sons of Fear that we are able to truly appreciate the light of unconditional love,” she said. “Don’t you see, Servant of Love? Can’t you understand this truth even though the realm of motherhood and leadership was not your dream?”

“I am weary of games,” I said. “And this particular riddle has vexed me for most of my life. If all humanity could only remember that we are all brothers and sisters of the Creator of All no matter what body we inhabit, the world would be a much kinder place, but we can’t seem to figure this out. Would you please explain Abaddon’s story to me in the simplest way possible as you would talk to a child? I will take your words back to my waking world so that, even if I do not understand you, there may be those who will.”

“This is a story of polarity and of the Eternal War in all the worlds,” said the High Priestess. “Written upon my own wings in letters of gold, I carry the story of the balance of light and shadow in the interior worlds of the mind and heart. This is your story. This is my story. This is a story of the Divine Mother who loves all in creation no matter their form.”

“How is this your story?” I said. “For I am the one braving the slings and arrows of my own intractable Shadow and soothing the fear she inspires in those she interacts with. She is always there before me, sowing fear, hate and conditional love. In her wake, little that I say or do matters to those she has harmed. I am hated before I am known and it makes me want to give up.”

“Heidi, you are not the only one in creation who fights against their shadow,” said the goddess. “Whose shadow do you think you walked through to get here? Abaddon is my shadow. She is divinely-inspired power, ritual and control used by the Creative Potential to enslave and bind those around her with chains of conditional love. I stand in opposition to that dark magic of the Mother. I am ritualized and divinely-inspired Creative Potential which has been non-violently weaponized and bound with chains of unconditional love to empower, uplift, and save.”

“Save who from what?” I said. “The painted crowd repeat their hellish cycle and collective nightmare with or without my input. In fact, I think they care little about what I have to say or who I really am as long as I appear how they believe I should appear to their eyes of conditional love.”

“Use my gifts to save yourself from your own mighty Shadow,” the High Priestess replied. “With the power of your own mind and heart, if you so choose it. You could still lose yourself to righteous anger and hate, and become a Servant of Fear rather than embodying the universal truth of unconditional love. The Creator of All gives you the free will to do either.”

“I do hate the Servants of Fear and all they stand for,” I said. “Once upon a time, the Servants of Fear divined the name of my secret first love and went to him, questioning him as to who I was to him and if he had felt anything for me. They returned to me with the gleeful message that not only did he not remember who I was but when they reminded him of my existence that he had cared nothing for me at all. They said my love only existed in my own head and I was just another sad example of a lost shadow in creation, one who wished for love with all her heart but found only indifference because my appearance was subpar and my manner of moving through the world was entirely forgettable. How could they do that to me? How could they try to tear my memory of first love from me, painting it as some kind of childish delusion?”

“Because conditional love is all they have ever known,” the High Priestess said. “Please listen and understand, Heidi. Unconditional love requires no reciprocation, act or memory for veracity or existence. Servants of Fear say all love is conditional love but you and I know this isn’t true. Do not fall into hate because they tried to impose their collective nightmare on you. Remember, shadows are a passing if persistent illusion. You are of the light and unconditional love, and always will be if you desire to be.”

I sighed and let my residual anger fade from my heart. “I do get angry when I feel wronged, just like a Child. I wish there was an Elder around here to balance out her knee-jerk reactions,” I said. “All the Inner Child wants to do is play and frolic, and she knows nothing of responsibility, evolution, adulthood or the sad realities of love.”

“All ruling powers of the spirit have answering ruling powers that can bring further balance and harmony to the Inner Worlds if they are required,” said the High Priestess softly. “I will fulfill the role of an Elder in your mind if you allow it and wish it to be so.”

“You would do this for me?” I asked, surprised by the goddess’ generosity. “Would you guide me, Great One?  I feel so lost in the dark like I’m chasing my own tail. I want to walk beneath the sun of the Creator of All and fear no shadows of the mind or heart.”

“I will do this thing for you as a service to Love and as a further gift I will read the Tarot cards of Eternity and give you a glimpse of the possible future,” she said as her shining garments and moth wings began to shift into a form that was easier for my eyes to behold. The High Priestess shrank into herself and became a wizened old woman. I looked at her new body and realized this could be me in fifty or sixty years, barring any unforeseen disasters or illnesses.

“What will you see in Eternity’s cards that I cannot see for myself?” I said. “I don’t mean to be rude, Priestess, but walking through the cards and exploring their wisdom seems to be a gift of mine.”

“You see others quite clearly but yourself not at all,” the High Priestess replied. “Allow me to give you some insight into your destiny, Servant of Love. In this manner, I will give some of the unconditional love of the eternal ones in their ancient spaces back to you just as you offer it to others.”

“What is destiny and what might that mean to me?” I said.

“Destiny is one of the observable patterns from the Creator of All. I will speak to you of that which is before your time, that which is after your time, and that moment which you stand within right now,” the High Priestess said. “To consider your destiny is to examine your role in the patterns of creation itself.” The goddess drew up a chair at a square table that had appeared in the cave and I helped her into her seat. Then, another chair appeared opposite to her. “Sit, Heidi, sit there,” the Priestess advised. So, I sat and prepared my heart to attend to the words that were about to be spoken and could not be unspoken.

The Priestess calmly looked across the table at me using my own eyes set within an aged face full of wrinkles. Then, she opened her mouth very wide as if she were a dragon rather than a woman and pulled a tarot card from her throat which she placed on the table before me.

“The Lovers represent a path of great meaning to you, Servant of Love,” she said and smiled down at the tarot card. “Yours is a life driven by love both conditional and unconditional. You seek it and demand it to show itself to you in all things. This can be a blessing unto you and the ones who walk with you as well as a curse.” One of the moths of the lady’s hair descended from her brow and landed in the center of the card.

“Path Maker, Bright Smile, Badger Friend, Shining Child, these are some of your names from the time you have forgotten. As you remember all that was and all that may be, you must not forget Love’s shadow travels hand in hand with you,” the Priestess intoned. “The Shadow of Love binds and consumes where unconditional love frees and uplifts. As your Shadow acts, so do you. As you act, so does your Shadow.”

The High Priestess placed her hands over mine upon the table and gazed into my secret heart and saw all the fear that had taken root within me. “Beware the love that is not love and your counterparts among the Servants of Fear,” she said. “Be ever watchful of the shadow that rends and bites, desiring to consume all your gifts, while you look for the love that’s yours and yours alone.”

The Priestess paused upon viewing something only she could see in my heart.  Then again, she opened her mouth wide and removed a card from her throat.

“The Star is a path that can help you understand your genesis and thread among the patterns of creation,” she said, placing another story on the table. “Yours is a life driven by strong emotion and you carry memories of lives long past because of this fierce love. It pulls you to your dreams and past loves but could also destroy them if the emotions are not balanced by the steady intellect of the mind and your adult understanding of your own imperfections and failings as well as those of others.”

Another of the goddess’ moths landed on the table, touching the card with its delicate limbs. “Remember, Servant of Love, your emotions are like the winds and tides on a lonely boat at sea,” the High Priestess said. “If you use a firm hand on the tiller to point your boat where you wish it to go, this will allow emotion to take you there. If you do not steer your boat, it could crash upon the rocks and be lost to those who could benefit from your unique insights.”

“A life filled with powerful emotions like yours is a gift waiting to be opened and enjoyed for the benefit of all,” she continued. “What manner of gift it will be depends upon how you steer your life within emotions as they arise. Choose your direction, Heidi, choose wisely and never be turned from the path that you most desire for it is in those most secret motivations that we get to glimpse the will of the one who put the stars in motion for us.”

One final time, the Priestess with my eyes pulled a card from her throat. “The Hanging Man stands in your future and speaks of revelation through sacrifice,” she sighed.  “You carry the flame of a talent once highly valued, the ability to gaze into the void and spin beautiful stories from the passing shadows you see reflected therein. Beware becoming the worst version of the story as you see it for the patterns of creation are powerful and none, not even I, yet see the end of the cycle that you are embodying. The Hanging Man hangs out of his own free will in order to explore the mysteries of creation. Why shall The Hanging Woman hang? Free will or something else?”

A member of the priestess’ moths flew from her head and landed in the middle of my forehead rather than the revealed tarot card, where she sank into my flesh and became one with me. “You are a Seer, Heidi, a Storyteller, a Dream Weaver, whatever else you may yet be,” the goddess said. “Do not let this talent go unused because you fear falling into shadow. Humanity needs stories told by the Servants of Love to dream beyond what the Servants of Fear have told them to believe to be possible. They need the unconditional love of the eternal ones in their ancient spaces. Be a bridge to this reality for them and a living example of the same. Be this universal truth and constant star shining in the void of creation to the best of your ability.”

The Priestess paused and ran her hands over the revealed cards, pressing her palms down firmly upon each one, cementing them in my past, present and future with her mere touch. “You have a responsibility, Keeper of the Eternal Flame, to find the Lost Ones with unlit candles and forgotten dreams,” the High Priestess said. “Show them the way, Light Bringer. You will do this because, though you cannot remember, this is what you came to do. I remembered for you, you see.”  She reached out and squeezed my hand. “Open the gates to self knowledge and the Inner Worlds for the other servants of the ruling powers to explore. The Servants of Fear have closely guarded these mysteries and patterns of creation out of fear of those like you who would share the secrets with the multitudes rather than only the best among them and their acolytes. Teach them the power of unconditional love too through your example, Servant of the Creator of All.” 

After her express command, the goddess’ mouth opened wide and wider still, and then the entire deck of Tarot cards exploded from her spirit and covered the table in their myriad works of art and story forms. My heart and mind marveled at the sheer diversity of the patterns of creation that were displayed therein.

Following this release of Creative Potential, the High Priestess split apart and changed into a many-headed, glowing dragon of light. Once upon a time many visions ago, I named this dragon Goodness, and she saved me from losing the Rainbow Bridge to my Shadow. “Goodness, I am honored to stand in your presence again,” I said. “I have yet to repay my great debt from the day you saved me from my Shadow and I live in hope that my life was worth your sacrifice in the first place.”

A bright light flared and Divine Inspiration as a grown man rather than a child stepped from the heart center of Goodness. “I love you unconditionally, Heidi,” the god said. “You always seem to forget that in my absence. Please try to remember this time.” He held out his hand and Creative Potential as a woman grown appeared beside him, the seeds of abundance dripping from her as always.

Goodness roared and turned her light from me, exploring deeper into her cave as Divine Inspiration and Creative Potential first walked and then began to dance with her. Her breath of unconditional love streamed from her mouth, igniting torches in the dark and banishing any lingering shadow beneath the ground. The story that was written on her ephemeral wings was also inscribed on the rock walls of her cave beneath her breath and Goodness continued in this manner for some time, illuminating eternity as I watched and marveled at her strength and ingenuity.

“Go on, Goodness, share your light,” I murmured. “Clear out this forgotten battlefield of the Eternal War. It is time for the world to know the truth of what transpired here.”

Then, I heard a child’s giggle and my Inner Child popped out from under the table.  “Is Goodness gone?” she asked and seated herself where the High Priestess had sat.  She began to play with Eternity’s tarot cards, stacking them here and there, knocking them over and piling them once again.

“Child called Mouse, would you read my fate as your guardian did?” I asked. She pulled a face at me.

“I don’t know how,” she said, continuing to play with the cards as if she sat in a sandbox. “That’s adult stuff for Goodness and her friends. Boring too. I want to go play with the jellyfish knight.”

“There’s no trick to it or age requirement and the jellyfish is only just a wish away,” I said. “Please pick up a card and tell its story. I’d really like to know one of your stories, Mouse.”

“Well ok,” the Inner Child said. “If it’s really that easy, then I’ll do it. If you ever lie to me, Goodness will come to talk to you very sternly so you better not be lying.” Magically, the tarot deck went from spread all over the table to being neatly contained within the Child’s hands. She drew the top card from the pile as expertly as the High Priestess had. The first card upon the table was the High Priest.

“I know this picture and story. Jellyfish told it to me once. The High Priest walks with the Goodness Dragon,” said the Child. “Once upon a time, a really important man sat in a chair high above the world and gazed out into the distance towards worlds he was too far from to perceive easily. This person sat there for so long he didn’t realize his head was turning into a giant insect like a bee or grasshopper.”

I laughed when I looked at the card from the Child’s point of view, for in the deck that I use, the High Priest’s hat does indeed look like a strange or alien bug.

“When the man realized that he was turning into a bee,” the Child continued. “He called together all his people to find a solution to his head problem.”  The Child drew the next card and it was the Star. “Out of the waiting crowd upon the new Lord of All Bees, only one young girl like me knew what was needed.”

“She ran as fast as she could to the nearest stream and from it, the girl like me drew the best drink of water she could find,” said the Inner Child. “She brought a cup of it back to the bug-headed High Priest.”

The Child drew the next card and revealed the Page of Cups. “The girl gave her cup to the bee-headed man. He drank it down and quenched his thirst,” she said. “Water is required when you’re thirsty. Nobody seems to remember that but my mother taught me that first thing when she gave me my cup. ‘When spirits are thirsty, give them a drink, Mouse, and don’t expect anything in return,’ she said. And I do.” 

Then, my Inner Child drew the last card and it was the ten of cups. “The High Priest’s head went back to normal,” she said. “He got up off of his chair of far seeing, fell in love with the Cup Bearer’s river, and they all lived happily ever after. I like this story. Thanks for playing with me, Mother Heidi. Maybe if I run fast, I can catch up with Bee-Head and the River Lady.”  The Child jumped up from the table and ran away into the cave, laughing all the while.

“I wonder if it means anything,” I said to myself and suddenly the cave began to fill with water. Before I could become afraid, a flood came upon me in a rush and for a moment I couldn’t see anything at all.  Then, my sight cleared and I found myself floating on the surface of a lake in a pristine, unspoiled wilderness. A bright sun shone down upon me from high above and my form changed from a woman into a lotus blossom, spreading my petals to catch the sunlight as I bloomed in the paradise called Arcadia.

Within the lake beneath me, I could feel the presence of leviathans who swam, fought, and consumed each other and above the lake on the wind, I perceived butterflies and moths swirling, dancing in a current so subtle that only they could feel and be moved by it.  My roots reached down into the mud at the bottom of the lake despite the warring leviathans and my face pointed unerringly to the sky, unshadowed by any passing clouds of butterflies or moths.  I felt whole and at peace for the first time in a very long time.

“The Hanging Woman shall hang out of unconditional love for all creation,” I whispered to myself. “I choose this path out of my own free will. May Love and the Creator of All guide my steps henceforth.”

As I contemplated existence, a bee came out of the sky to feast upon the nectar within my bloom.

There my vision ended.

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• Conceptualizing War from the pages of The Light Congress: March 9, 2026
• Three of Wands, The Light Congress Pathwork Reading and Review for Feb. 23, 2026
• Feb. 16, 2026: The Light Congress Tarot Reading, Five of Swords
• Afterword
• Chapter 100: The Promised Redemption of a Son of Abaddon