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 and I come from another world,” 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 of the fallen 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. The 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, the painted crowd rose up and tore 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. “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 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 or 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.”

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 was shown giving birth to a 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 came 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 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 shadow 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 were 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, 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, all the things I had yet to rediscover.