《MOUNT: THE CHARGE - A Greek Myth for This Time》


 ONCE THE MYTH and History Unfolding Part 1

    PROLOGUE


    ONCE THE MYTH


    There was a time when Mount Olympus and its larger than life occupants needed no introduction. I find myself wondering how that came about. I see it as someone not unlike myself feeling compelled to look up and seeing a story in the clouds, decided to tell a tale of life in a mythical place with beings who had everything the world had to offer at their fingertips. Theirs was a magical existence full of epic adventures and they were charged with the responsibility of overseeing All. Then this person, crazy as it sounded, decided to tell their story. People became enthralled with the tales told and the yarns spun and the news of that time began to spread like the wildfire that became the central theme of Prometheus. All the elements existed for a perfect storm of heaven and earth at odds with each other while consumed by a desire to be one like the other.


    These stories gained traction of their own as they were picked up and carried about by travelers and migration. What started out as a single seed of an idea by a creative soul seeing a bevy of clouds that inspired an entire world imagined, became the livelihood of the wanderer. Myths began as the mother of invention. The world in which they lived and trying to make sense of it. Which is where we find ourselves still - to this day. In olden times, people seeking better lives and fresh starts or increased income would set out on the dusty roads, seeking markets to peddle their wares or green pastures to till. They would long for a friendly soul to offer food and lodging in exchange for a story told of whence they came and what was happening there. The better the story, the better the offering in return. So the myths grew into fantastic regalings of having seen them for themselves, or having known someone who had been swept away by the Gods of Olympus.


    Myths are not entirely fiction. There is that small seed of truth in every one of them that became embellished by the storyteller to be the greatest story ever told. So far. Eventually scribes emerged and began to record the tales told. Adapted and adopted by those seeking something greater than themselves and their meager existences, the myths became the panacea for hard times. A place to look up to and the idea that there was something bigger than the daily toil to look forward to became the mainstay and ministry of the time. I can well imagine groups talking amongst themselves and families gathering around the hearth, lifting spirits with enthusiasm of worlds beyond and deities galore. Lifting spirits was the whole idea.


    There are lessons to be learned to this day from the story of the Myth itself. What began as an idea grew into a means of survival and a reason to keep trying and a need to be a better person because someone was always watching. As civilizations grew, and governments formed, they became a means to an end. A way to control the narrative and terrorize the populace into compliance.


    Regional discrepancies became grounds for war over whose heaven was most powerful and whose stories would be told. Whose Gods - or eventually God, should you all look up to. Power became the motivation and dominance, the goal. World domination has since, been the goal. Sadly, that is the truth that emerged from a simple idea to tell a story to make people feel better about their own lives and have something or someone to look up to and hope for the future. They were just trying to make sense of it all in their own way and keep a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs and food in their mouths. Ideas created became fear exploited.


    I believe we create our own reality every day. The reality that we need to sleep at night. The world beyond that can try to control us and give us laws to follow and punishments to ensue in order to keep us all in line. What we believe is what actually sustains us still. So if I want to look up at the clouds and see the same thing as someone I never knew from thousands of years ago saw up there and tell the story from my perspective - so be it. Let the myths continue. Since when have we not all been up for a good story?


    And while Olympus may still need no introductions because the idea of it still exists, those on high during our millenia will. There are new Gods in High Heaven and they will need to be revealed in light of the changes. To understand their story, you will need to meet them first. Because when it All comes down to it, they are the myth. The myth is real. The myth itself has always been real. The truth is always in there somewhere.


    And history always repeats itself.


    CHAPTER ONE


    History Unfolding Part 1


    The Current Counsel of Lords and Lordesses of Olympus


    (Yes, it is Counsel and not Council, for Good Reason)


    Let us now take a look at the current structure through the First and Foremost of the Realms of High Heaven. Olympus.


    LORD BLAZE OF GLORY


    (To Begin With)


    Lord Blaze, as he is known, if you would, sits as the First Co-Chair of the Counsel of Heir Apparents to the Realm (formerly Pantheon) of Olympus. He also reports directly to Apollo, who represents Olympus as the First Chair of the High Counsel of the 12 Realms that maintain the continuum of High Heaven. There are many familiar names on the High Counsel. You will find Isis, Thor, Venus, and Ganesha among others. High Heaven remains loyal, to this day, to The Above All, that being Akasha. Akasha is where science and nature (creation) meet to make All things possible.


    Conceived by way of Apollo through inspiration, since birth and birthright has evolved to no longer reflect a sense of incestuous behavior that would confuse the issue of lineage for those who are basic, Lord Blaze is undeniably the tallest of all Lords and Lordesses of Olympus heretofor. Clearly, there were high expectations in mind for him from the beginning. While he towers over the others in spirit, designation and manifestation, (when necessary) he does not laud his height as an intimidation, as he is among the kindest of all the Lord/esses. However, wisdom is not his strong suit. Often, he is naive in his belief in people. Fortunately, there are those around him who are less so.


    Blaze is strikingly handsome. He is crowned by a halo of platinum blonde, short cropped hair with a cowlick that rises from a V for victory in the center of his forehead. Strangely, the roots of his hair, and all hair from there down, is black as night. Beneath his onyx, heavyset brows, are a piercing set of eyes the color of the surrounding Oceans of Olympus. Not blue, not green, but somewhat in between. That is how they are described for the record. He is muscular and monumental in form. He is neither lithe or graceful. (Much more the proverbial Bull in a China Shop.) That is not to say that he is not graceful in demeanor. He is also known as a man of few words. He relies on others to do most of the talking, preferring in many instances to be the deciding vote instead. His greatest strength, all physical disposition aside, is his listening skill. He is considered to be shy personally, and reluctant politically but his respect for others and all kinds sets him apart and this is why he sits where he sits.


    His Omnipotence reigns primarily through his Powers of Discernment. Blaze is the most discerning. Lord. His Designation is that of Life. As the Lord of Life, he takes everything into consideration. He originated under the previous alignment as the God of War and Peace. But a lot has changed under this Counsel. Most notably, there are no Gods or Goddesses among them. That is how they chose to respect those who went before them and their Elders. (Also, and far more likely, to distinguish themselves from them.) They prefer to be the Lords and Lordesses of Olympus, thus recognizing that they are younger and learning for themselves from past mistakes and successes. And this is their Time.


    Blaze prefers to be an androgynous being, by nature, while the form he typically adopts is male, He is adamantly bisexual at his own discretion and equally so. He does not differ between the company of men or women. He remains true to himself and can sustain long term relationships either way where there is understanding. He prefers to keep his personal life as personal as possible. Any previous relationships he was known to be involved in, remain friendships to this day. Mostly, because it is hard not to like him. His smile is infectious. His ¡°heart¡± is magnanimous. His laugh is uproarious and his inherent charm, while not as obvious as his originator, that being Apollo, is endearing. However, his temper is another story.


    Being descended from the energy of Zeus Almighty, Lord Blaze inherited the Aegis, (the All Powerful Shield) and promptly passed it on to his First Co-Chair for safe keeping. He does not trust his own ¡°temper¡±ment. That is where things do get problematic for him. While he is a slow burn when it comes to anger, his name is Blaze for good reason. (The words - Scorched Earth and Burn is All Down come to mind when describing what the result of that anger can and would be if not wielded correctly.) It is far and wide, considered wise not to make him angry. While many may fear the repercussions of such an unwise choice as that, it is actually the very thing I love him the most for. Good for him.


    His Omnipresence is distributed through his Equability. Where things cannot be equal, his presence can and will determine through discernment, that which is equitable accordingly. As long as he can keep his ego in check, which like all Olympians, is a birthright, he will know with certainty.


    In form, he would present as a good seven feet tall but taller, and muscular, bordering on burly. He has a distribution of black, curly chest hair enough to be considered sexy but not too much to be thought of as off-putting. He has thighs the size of tree trunks, is tight waisted with a wide stance. His favorite sport is the shot put, for which he continues to hold the title. His sword of choice is the double-edged longsword of truth, which he is a master of. His lips are full and compliment the squared jaw look of his ancestors. He is lightly olive skinned and rumored to be well endowed. His choice of dress is casual, free flowing and the traditional colors of white and blue, for the most part. He also looks very good in red.


    His Omniscience is that of reasonably speaking. That says it all.


    All Hail Lord Blaze! Thank you very much.


    LORDESS APOLLONIA


    (Known as Polly to her friends)


    Conceived by way of Artemis, Polly sits as First Co-Chair of Counsel alongside Blaze. She is the rightful heir of the Aegis now. She is, after all, a warrior of extraordinary lineage. Polly is also the first alternate to report to Apollo, able to act on Blaze¡¯s behalf should he not be available to do so for good reason. It seems there is not a short supply of good reasons. Apollonia is a vision to behold. Her rarefied demeanor belies her fierce disposition and can be deceiving. She takes no one and nothing at face value. Looking upon her, it would be forgivable to mistake her for a garden variety fairie or a typical wood nymph. That would be to your detriment though. She prefers to be underestimated. Consider yourself forewarned. She will use it against you.


    Polly would be considered slight, lithe and flexible. Just not short in any respect. She sports a headful of sandy blonde, brown-laced, unruly curls that straggle off down to her upper back. There will often be stray twigs or leaves embedded in them. You will find her thoughtfully picking them out during the course of a Counsel Convene. Her eyes are the color of bark and her cheeks retain a peachy sheen. Apollonia lives in Arcadia of Olympus. She has a dwelling unlike any other, with an entirely carved exterior of wood, and entirely furnished in rich fabric cushions throughout. She adores her creature comforts. Unlike her originator in energy and spirit, Polly does not like to hunt. She would prefer to wrestle her prey into defeat and then decide their fate from there.


    Her Omnipotence runs like a river through her Powers of The Natural Order of All Things being Equal and/or Equitable, which is a mouthful of a title. The short form would be: She is a Natural and thus, The Natural. Do not, by any means, confuse her with a Mother Nature. You might want Polly for a mother, but you might not. She has a surprisingly lack of patience. But she is so fun to be around. Polly burst onto the scene intact and ready for action.


    As mentioned previously, Apollonia stands out as an Rarefied Being by nature. Her sexuality is translucent. She cannot be pinned down by it. She¡¯s not having any of that. Her preference is self sex and others sometimes come in handy. Polly is exceptionally close with Artemis as a trusted source. There is no defying her in her position as her legacy. To Apollonia, legacy is everything. She will always be the one to Convene Counsel and call them to Order before handing it off to Khain for the First Order of Business. She is known for her ¡°no nonsense¡± approach and will be the one to keep you in check and keep things moving. However, she is prone to her whims, so what direction they move in at any given time is anyone¡¯s guess.


    Some wonder, given her whims, if she is the best possible choice to safeguard the Aegis. Blaze is not one of these people. He trusts her implicitly. She returns that favor. Theirs is a deep and abiding bond. They reflect the bond established between Apollo and Artemis since their inception as twin energies. They are not the best of friends. They are the best of their time. Side by side, they oversee and understand. Understanding is the core thesis for Counsel. While her whims may seem on the fly, there is always a rhyme and a reason to them. What may look like a flight of fancy on her part, is rooted in her deep desire to improve upon the circumstances, with or without standing, by understanding them as needed.


    Her Omnipresence is revealed in spirit through Nature¡¯s Way. That which comes naturally to her and others is oftentimes, what is at stake. She is the gatekeeper of the Natural Order and knowing this, is what allows everyone to know they are safe. She is always at the ready to take down anything or anyone that gets in the way of furtherance.


    In form, she would present as mid to late twenties, of average height and build. But she is much stronger than she looks. She is as pale a moonlight by night and sun kissed by day. Her moderate shapeliness keeps her in demand enough for her liking while limiting a following to a manageable degree. Her sport of choice is wrestling on any front. Her weapon of choice is a javelin, at which she is notably adept. She can also run like the wind on legs most women would kill for. Her facial features denote a loveliness but are unremarkable at first glance. By the second or third, you are taken in by a rare beauty. Her choice of dress is earth tones, naturally. She does like short skirts and sleeveless tops made from the skins of her conquered prey. Skin is in for her. Polly always has skin in the game.


    Her Omniscience is flipping the script. You would have to see it in action to fully understand it. But take heart, because she always does.


    All Hail Lordess Apollonia! That would be best.


    LORD KHAIN


    (More often Cain)


    Co-conceived by way of Apollo and Ares out of mistrust of one for the other, this legacy is the difference between night and day. Cain sits as the First Co-Chair of the Second Seat of Counsel. He is possibly the most loved and highly respected of all the legacies. He is the truest to himself among them. If Gay was a God, his name would be Cain. There is no disputing this. He is a onesex Lord of Lords and onesex only, never wanting any other kind in keeping with his disposition. His originators can vex over it all they want. Cain makes no apologies. He is pragmatic and the penultimate gaylord. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Cain is beyond good looking. He is the kind of good looking that resonates with you to the very core. It sticks with you. His hair is tiger striped and always neat and well maintained. There is a perpetual shine to it that comes from within. His eyes are labradorite personified. His face is symmetrical. His smile is penetrable and his teeth are uniform. His brows are immaculate and deep auburn with a hint of chocolate brown. He is the epitome of gracefulness, especially under pressure. Cain never loses his cool. He remains unflappable, even under the most contentious of circumstances. He is the one that will do most of the talking. He is a profound orator and debater. His strength is his voice. It can lull you or wake you up, depending on what is required. It is the voice of the ages. He has the lyrical quality of Apollo and the call to arms of Ares. As well, he is a remarkable litigator, mitigator and mediator. You turn to him when you need a stalemate resolved or an argument settled once and for All.


    His Omnipotence is the Word. He is able to discern the right word to fit the occasion. That does not mean he is the final word on the subject. That will always go to a vote, with Blaze typically casting the final vote. However, given that Blaze and Khain are in kind and in keeping with to some degree, they are often in agreement . But when they are not - they are not! And Khain, at those times, realizing he could only too well, incite Blaze to anger with a single word, will most likely defer to another to take the lead. He is immensely protective by nature. He can choose to be the best of both worlds or the worst of both worlds. His life was poised on the razor¡¯s edge from his beginning. No one in their right mind would want to be Cain.


    Cain is ambiguous for some. He prefers to be seen but can often not be found. He will disappear when not needed only to reappear unexpectedly, feeling that he is needed. That has been known to drive his lovers to borderline madness at times. Somehow, though, he always makes up for it. Everyone is Cain¡¯s friend but Cain himself. Friendship given is not his strong suit. This may be the only place he falls short. He is more than willing to receive it but has extreme difficulty giving the same in return. He will protect, defend to the death and have everyone¡¯s back. But true, meaningful, heartfelt friendship for others eludes him. He gets that from Ares. Still, he is a blessing.


    Being Lord of the Word, Spoken or Written or Otherwise Thought Of is a hefty title that he wears well. He can Sonnet on a dime or shut down a wayward conversation with a look as if to warn ¡°are you going to make me say it?¡± whatever ¡°it¡± is. He doesn¡¯t always have to speak to be heard. He can just as easily give you ¡°that look¡±. He does not pontificate though. Nor does he ramble on. He is a master wordsmith of epic proportions. He will often speak quietly and even in a monotone to make his point. His delivery is his greatest discernment of All. You could use so many words to describe Cain, but he wouldn¡¯t.


    His Omnipresence is felt always and everywhere, even if he isn¡¯t around. That is the beauty of words. They are universal. Cain does have an enormous ego twofold to contend with. He has twice the battle there as the other heir apparents do. His ability to stay grounded and limit his interactions balances his conflicting nature while he maintains, much to their discomfort, that Apollo and Ares are much more alike than they are different.


    In manifestation, Khain is designed to make you swoon. As if they planned it that way. Lord have mercy. The Olympians do know. He stands a good six feet tall or better with an enviable stature. He is sleek, and copper toned while appearing translucent from within. HIs eyes will draw you in while his smile will melt your heart. He is beautiful in a rugged way. He dresses neatly in form fitting wear and prefers black and white with a pop of color somewhere where you would least expect it. He has radiant sky earrings that catch the light and draw attention to his face. His lovers are somewhere between numerous and a select few depending on who you ask - because he will never tell and it¡¯s his word against yours. Cain is a good sport and therefore, excels at many. He favors the race though. His weapon of choice, if he had to pick just one, would be the stake through the heart.


    His Omniscience is a prevailing logic few can access. We all wish we could but he can.


    Damn him.


    All Hail Lord Khain(Cain)! Gotta love him.


    LORDESS PRETORIA


    (Don¡¯t Call her Pretty for short)


    Conceived by way of the Illustrious (and equally industrious) Athena, Pretoria, who prefers to be called Tory, (as in Victory) is the Second Co-Chair of the Second Seat of Counsel. Tory is the Queen of Counsel. Not in the monarchical sense that the word is most often attributed to, but in the truly regal sense that it belongs to. And how could she not be, given her legacy? Pretoria carries the mantle of Justice and the Way in Which it Should Apply. I should be measured out without blindness but in full view of the facts as they pertain to the matter at hand. She carries forth the scepter.


    Pretoria is difficult to describe. Her understanding of her own worth and value depends upon her mood. She is the force to be reckoned with at times. She wavers at others. She is, however, effortlessly stunning, and yet, she has a slight edge of coldness about her. Her ¡°heart¡± weighs heavy on her at times. Her gray eyes can go from sparkling to overcast suddenly. She would be considered voluptuous by our standards but she would recoil at that particular description, true or not. (And would most likely insist Cain strike that word from the Record.)


    Tory is always trying to live up to the expectations placed upon her that she inherited with her Right of Passage. She knows has very big shoes to fill. While most of the Lords and Lordesses prefer sandals to their feet, Tory is always in her calf-skinned boots, laced up to her knees and adorned in some way. Yet, she takes herself far too seriously at times. She knows she is the body politic of Counsel, which she readily aspires to, but she is the most likely to quit at any given moment.


    Pretoria has a unique Omnipotence unto herself. She derives it through her Scepter. The Scepter is named Rule. Having received omnipotence through conception like All the Legacies, she chose to distance herself from it to maintain objectivity. Atop the Scepter, sits a crystal dome that reflects back to her and her alone. She only carries it when required to. While she still abides with Athena, she can shed her omnipotence and rely on her environment instead. She refuses to become dependent on omnipotence, preferring instead to depend on the wisdom of the ages acquired by Athena for the guidance she needs.


    And yet, unlike Athena, Pretoria is also a hopeless romantic. Much like the fairytale queens we grew up with, she relishes her rule while longing for a great love to steal her away from it all. While she can be ice cold in her application of the Rule Required in Accordance with the Circumstances, she pines privately for a consort who would take care of her. Ever the juxtaposition of strong women with a softer side. (Obviously, she has yet to find it as I am writing this. But not for a lack of trying. Tory is always trying.)


    Beneath all that strength and confidence, are the insecurities we all fall subject to. And, like all of us, those insecurities can reveal themselves in unlikely and untimely manners. She is known to take them out on those she trusts the most instead of placing them fully in the lap of those who have triggered her for whatever reason. Just ask Cain. He is usually on the receiving end of her perceived ire. Still, she has a quiet and unassuming smile that masks her lonely heart and wins him over in the end. Easily.


    Her Omnipresence shows up primarily in teachable moments. She can teach us all something. Most of her lessons have a lasting effect and result in changes being made for the betterment of All. That is because Tory wants everything and everybody to be better than it is or they are. All the Time. Herself included.


    In form, she would look like a movie star. Not the glamorous, over made-up type, but the Queen of the Silver Screen Type. The ones that retain a sense of mystery about them in a very public forum. She would stand an elegant height, weigh the appropriate amount, always look presentable, and have her hair done. She loves her auburn locks. She will style them in many different ways. She loves deep, rich colors and details on her attire. Especially embroidery. She loves embroidery. And tapestries. However, Tory does not much care for sport but will participate in the Games, for target practice, if nothing more. Give her a good bow and arrow and she will show her true colors as a marksperson.


    Her Omniscience is the wisdom of the ages she wishes to pass on from its origins. That, and being a hopeful romantic at some point in time.


    All Hail Lordess Pretoria! Please and thank you.


    LORDESS MAGDALENA


    (In the Meantime)


    Brought in by way of necessity, Magdalena sits in interim, while most would agree, that is more of a technicality at this point. Because this is Olympus and Gods are still only human, just not subject to mortality and with greater powers, bad things still happen. But where there is accountability and when you hold yourself to a Higher Standard, examples need to be made to set the example. Unlike the Elder days, if you fail to rise to the occasion of your disposition and destiny in such a way that it reflects poorly on the representation of All, you can be ceremoniously dismissed and demoted. Or even worse. We will not go there just yet.


    Such was the situation this Counsel found itself in. A vacancy resulted. Hence, Maggie became the First Co-Chair of the Third Seat Appointed. She was raised up to fill the void a great inaction created. Inactions are the greatest infractions. It always comes down to what you did not do in light of your advanced understanding. You failed to account, most likely.


    Maggie sits in consort with her beloved and betrothed, Orestes. Together, they occupy the Third Chair of Counsel. Her Legacy will, perhaps, be revealed down the line. That is not as important to her being seated as her willingness to rise to the greater need of the people than that of her own. But she is a powerhouse Lordess and so this is not so surprising. Less dominating in stature notwithstanding, Magdalena is at least twice her size in spirit. She can be quite vocal without being loud. She has a jaunt to her step, with an absolute mass of golden curls atop her head that will bounce in emphasis with her every step. Her smile is every bit as golden. She has a carefree glow to her that resonates with most and a twinkle in her deep blue eyes that endears most to her. Most being the operative Word. For not all feel the same way about the effervescent Magdalena. She can rub people the wrong way.


    Maggie is honest to a fault. Being young, she has yet to learn how to reign it in and be more diplomatic in her approach. She remains, therefore, under the watchful eye of the rest of the sitting Lords and Lordesses of Counsel. Especially those of Lord Blaze who is the most protective of her, even more so than Orestes. And rightfully so, The egos of the Gods can be so easily bruised. (You might say, that is their collective Achilles Heel.)


    Her Omnipotence, you might think would run like a river through her honest assessment of anything, actually derives from her ability to lighten the load of others. Magdalena is the Light That Shines on All. She is light hearted by nature. The only thing heavy about her are her bosoms, which is what most attracted Orestes to her in the first place. Back in Olympus, some things never change. Fortunately, many other things have. Does she weaponize them against him at times to keep him in his place? Well, they have been betrothed for quite some time now. He is either truly beholden to her, which says a lot for him, or she is adept at keeping him well in line, which says a lot about her. I would not be so bold as to be the judge of this.


    Maggie looks as close to a person as humanly possible for a Lordess. So much so, that she could be mistaken for a mortal. Her sheen is ivory and her form is desirable. She is compact and contained and makes great use of her beautiful hands while she speaks. They fly to her aid like wings to make her message heard. Fluttering about in a mesmerizing fashion. Her laugh is musical and her charm is infectious. Her temper is short lived and her kindness knows no end. And most of all, to Magdalena, friendship is everything, which is why she works so very hard to balance her honesty with temperance. (She is also super funny and surprisingly less honest when she is drunk.)


    Her Omnipresence of choice, because she is capable of many, is Harmony. Where there is discord, she will be found striking a common chord like a tuning fork to the soul.


    If she showed up anywhere in your life, you would naturally gravitate towards her. She has the most welcoming demeanor. She dons herself in flowerful prints and loves a good scarf. She has a tendency to wear the most adorable sandals and always, and I do mean always, has her fingernails and toenails polished to near perfection. Actual perfection does not exist in High Heaven. All remain grateful to this day for that. Except maybe Maggie, whose manicure and pedicure would always be perfect if that were possible. But room for improvement must always exist. Improvement is, by far and at large, more important for All than perfection. Magdalena can work a Mace like Magick. It is the only time people who know and love her seek to keep their distance from her. They need to keep their heads about them.


    Her Omniscience is her singing voice. No one can carry a tune like Maggie. If there was competitive karaoke in Olympus, Maggie would win every time,


    All Hail Lordess Magdalena for stepping up! Cheers!


    LORD ORESTES


    (Or - Everybody¡¯s Wing Man)


    Orestes occurred by way of Ares, through no fault of his own either way, depending upon whom you ask, either or. Or is enigmatic and charismatic. He is the type of Lord you could put in a room by himself and he would still manage to have the best time out of anyone. He very much appreciates his own company and would find it hard to believe that anyone would not. He is between tall and taller than most but the most athletic of all. He can move like lightning. He is the natural gymnast and stronger than most. He will arm wrestle anyone who says otherwise. Even Apollonia. Or has the winning smile among the heirs. He will use it to his advantage, His dark hair and even darker eyes are offset by the proverbial 1000 watt smile he can flash in an instant. This has managed to get him out of more than one dicey situation. Orestes is the best friend we want for life. He would have your back. But when he goes dark, he goes dark. He has been known to brood uninterrupted for indeterminate amounts of time. Less so, however, since he succumbed to the charms of Lordess Magdalena.


    She is his weakness. So much so, that sometimes he can¡¯t seem to think straight around her. She has power over him and since their union, he has become the ¡°happy wife, happy life¡± Lord in residence. Who knew a conception of Ares would be the whipped one of the bunch. Still, everyone admires them for their commitment that still stand till this day. This devotion is why Maggie is the first Co-Chair of the Third Seat and Or is the Second. (A note of explanation here as to the Chairs and the Seats. The First are Chairs and those who sit in them can introduce or second motions. The seats are otherwise. They work in conjunction with. The First can introduce a motion and the Second will Second.) For Orestes to defer to Magdalena is the highest order of support for as his beloved and betrothed. He therefore raised the Standard.


    His Omnipotence is Loyalty to Service Above and Beyond and to All. His loyalty is his passion. His passion is his loyalty. Not too any one individual in particular though. So much more is the cause. He seeks the greater good for All. He is surprisingly astute. You would not think so upon first meeting him. He is deceptively obtuse at times. He can also be an annoyance. Maggie would attest to that easily. But he remains loveable, even at the worst of times.


    His humanity suits him and he often wears his mantle. He¡¯s most comfortable in uniform or leather. He is tanned and gorgeous. His dark hair brushes the nape of his neck and gold becomes him. There was a time where he was the gadabout and he did leave a trail of broken hearts behind him. He knows Fate caught up with him for it and he does not choose to argue with them about it, knowing he earned his karma and appreciates the result accordingly. He has become a great humanitarian as a result. Many look to him for guidance and advice. The first name on the list of those to do so will always be Blaze for they are best friends. Since inception, they have been in kind and in keeping with friendship.


    Sadly, Or can be his own worst enemy at times. He struggles with himself. Nobody quite knows why. Most attribute it to Legacy issues. My take on it is simple. Orestes is complicated. He has sparks of temper, flashes a smile and internalizes the damage and takes it out on himself to spare others. Quite brave of him.


    His Omnipresence is his lightning speed. He is The Quickness. You would think that designation would be more in keeping with a Legacy of Hermes, but it All goes back to the source. Distribution is anyone¡¯s guess.


    To look upon Or in form, you would be most impressed with his physique. Emblematic of the Greek Deities, his is one to be desired. Tall enough to look up to and flexible enough to desire, with sleek, Mediterranean skin and a flat footed stance the can seldom be thrown off. He is a master of weaponry but his double-bladed ax is his favorite because it allows him to take two heads at a time with a single swing back and forth. He continually practices his swing in the event he actually gets to use it some day. Clad in his mantle and leather with gold dripping and hair blowing in the wind while he heaves his weapon back and forth in earnest, Orestes is a sight for sore eyes. For sport, Orestes will often be found running the hills and valleys of Olympus for fun and renewal. You can barely catch a glimpse of him when he does so.


    His Omniscience is Everywhere. Thus, he can be all at once. Within bounds - for now.


    All Hail Lord Orestes. Thanks to him.


    LOOKING BACK


    (Let¡¯s Review)


    Since we are halfway through our introductions at this point, it might be a good time to talk about All. What is the All? Contrary to what you might be thinking, it is not the All Knowing you might associate with Omnipotence. It is ¡°possibility¡± incarnate. Possibilities exist in their own right. We All exist within the Realm of Possibilities. Hence, the Realms charged with the responsibility of maintaining All Possibilities. There must always be possibilities. All things are possible at any given time. This is the mandate of High Heaven. To keep the gate open for possibilities unending to support infinity. If there is no infinity, no one can live forever. And since the Gods are immortal by nature, their lives depend upon infinity more than any others do. That is why All is so important to them. Everything they do is in service and deference to All. Then, they pass that on to everyone. They are the conduits for eternity. They are not the BE ALL AND END ALL! All must never end. We must never run out of possibilities. Anything that promotes an ultimate end to anything promotes an ultimate end to all possibility. That runs contrary to how this universe was designed to exist - indefinitely.


    Wanting to be definitive could be our downfall. And yet, we are subject to it by our own design. We chose this. We want happy endings and closure, We want limitations and answers and conclusions. We loathe being theoretical and hypothetical beings. We would rather rely on Dogma than philosophy. We are pea brained idiots when it comes to saving ourselves, and I do include myself in that assessment. I am as much of a sucker for a fairy tale ending as anybody. But that is because we lack the understanding necessary to wrap our heads around the All Encompassing Nature of the Universe. The most we can do is rely on our instincts. Sadly, we have gotten further and further away from trusting our instincts as we continue to develop a dependency dynamic to our detriment. We always want somebody else to do the heavy lifting for us. Solve the big problems for our sake. Provide the answers we need. Give us the reason. We are the reason. If we internalized that to the degree we should, we would discover that we are the reason for All. All wants to make everything possible for us. Can you imagine a life where anything and everything is possible - for you and just you - indefinitely? That is not a rhetorical question.


    How did this happen? We may never know, but the possibility to know exists among All the other possibilities. The closest I can get to understanding it lies in the Akashic Records which supersedes. The Akashic Records are an ongoing record of All Possibilities which must always be added to at all times to maintain their existence, thus maintaining the existence of the All and everything that goes along with that. That is the nearest that I can get to explaining the All.


    I do not know if Akasha is an entity or an idea. Anything beyond that is for mystery to decide. How the Records came to be is anyone¡¯s guess since anything is possible. It All comes back around on itself. This is the continuum. And the Beauty of it All.


    So that is a short and as concise as possible explanation for what this discourse is All about. It is the best I could do. I¡¯m mortal. You are too if you are reading this. The best thing you can do for yourself in this condition is try to be open minded. People might begin to ask if I am channeling all this. To them, I would say - ¡°Anything¡¯s possible.¡±


    I¡¯m certain, by now, that you are waiting for some drama to ensue. And rightfully so. Because if anyone brings the drama, it is The Olympians. However, I am only just beginning to get comfortable with the process, so please bear with me. Especially since I am about to try to describe perhaps the most interesting Lord on Counsel, for he is an actual offshoot of Zeus Almighty. Albeit, later in life which is why he sits with the others. So allow me to introduce you to Seidonysus. Otherwise known as SOZ - Son of Zeus (by his own doing).

 History Unfolding Part 2

    CHAPTER TWO


    History Unfolding Part 2


    Harken Back to the Counsel of Olympus


    (Where we come full circle)


    LORD SOZ


    (We¡¯ll just leave it at that)


    In order to appreciate the uniqueness that is SOZ, we need to revisit the greatness that was and still is Zeus, King of the Gods. Zeus came to power through the defeat and demise of predecessor, Kronos. He overpowered the Titan Lord and took the Eternal Flame and Throne with the aid of the Aegis. Basically, the story goes, he killed his own father for control of Olympus. What he really did was strip him of his vestments and send him packing. Off to the darkness with him. There had never been any love lost between the two. Kronos knew before the conception of his heir that his rule would be surrendered at the dawn of a New Age. He did everything that he could to circumvent his fate in an effort to stay his reign. It was all for naught. He could have minimized the damage, especially his own, instead had he reconciled his Ego before things came to a head. He would not have lost his to the already Almighty Zeus, had he done so,(metaphorically speaking). Zeus took to the lead like an Eagle takes to the sky. And All proceeded from there as it should, for some time.


    However, power went to his head and the Greeks fell from Grace. He behaved badly and that is putting it mildly. Enough so that mortals turned away from what they deemed to be the selfish behaviors of their Gods on High. Earth Below rose up against them, wanting a moral code for them to live by that put a stop to all the shenanigans. You can only seduce and impregnate so many other men¡¯s wives before you find yourself on the wrong side of time. He was due for his fate. The mortals did not have to fight the Gods for the way forward. They only had to turn away from them and favor another. One who simplified the heavens, consolidated the hierarchy and offered an easier way to rise and in exchange for a simple tithe and all things in his name, he would retreat from view, stay in his own lane and not bother with them. They had their Free Agency. What more could they ask for? Sometimes you have to give the masses what they want.


    Zeus lost the plot on his watch, and he would be next in line for a beheading in spirit. He never forgave himself. He had been humbled, somewhat. Once Almighty, always Almighty though and Zeus knew he still had it in him. He spent eons wrestling his Ego into enough submission to counsel a transition for the MeanTime. He passed the torch willingly, so he says, and the throne to his son, (the Sun), Apollo. Hence the Sky God retired in accordance with his age.


    After the peaceful transfer of power, he found himself at odds. He puttered around and tried to make himself useful, offering his service as a ¡°consultant¡± if you will, but never quite felt removed. He had been single by this time and for quite a while in his mind when he fell to loving a garden and the keeper of the garden. The garden was a ¡°wild¡± garden as was the keeper of the garden. Zeus felt young again. This garden was in the furthest corners of Olympus. Beyond the boundaries of Upper Olympus where the Gods reside and outside the mortal occupancy of Lower Olympus. This was known as the Far Reaches of Olympus - where godly powers are surrendered for all who enter there. Zeus would occasionally go there just for that reason and walkabout. Now, he lives there. And he has never been happier.


    But! Being Zeus, he couldn¡¯t quite bring himself to leave it All behind. He knew the next Age would come, and they might be the ones to finally redeem him and Olympus from the exile he had created by his immaturity as a God. He thought to himself that if he had one more son of sons while still in his relative prime, and if he had him now, then he would be ready in a timely manner for the next reconciliation of the Ages. And the next Counsel of the Gods. So, in his infinite wisdom, and in the name of continuum, he brought forth Seidonysus. He then, being smart enough to know by now that he was not the best of fathers, implored the great nurturer, Demeter, to raise him as best she could. Demeter took one look upon the swaddled child and that was that. Zeus packed a satchel and left for the Reaches. And the child was reared in the way of Demeter to, in turn, be her heir apparent in time. So Son of Zeus, though he may be, SOZ is the Legacy of Demeter, and welcome on Counsel for her sake. He is the First Co-Chair of the Fourth Chair, for now. He and the other Co-Chair of the Fourth Chair alternate at his discretion.


    SOZ has the sky blue eyes of Zeus, only younger and much more mischievous. He is irrepressible. He is somewhat tall and a little on the gangly side with long arms and legs with a slim torso and broad shoulders. He is toned more than muscular and even svelte by definition. His hair is silver with tips of gold. His face is angular but not pointed. When he furrows his brow he can look down right menacing. He has the gift of gab and can talk endlessly about nothing or debate for extended lengths of time. Then there will be those who cannot wait for him to shut up. But wait they will. He is immensely talented. He is a master of illusion and a Magi as well as a Lord. His mother raised him well. SOZ can turn any ordinary occasion into an event and any undertaking into an adventure.


    As far as Omnipotence goes, which is endlessly, he is SOZ of Synchronicity. For him, timing is everything. He is above all, the Pacesetter. He has some kind of weird internal clock he runs on. That is the best way that I can explain his sense of timing. He is attached to the Elders and the MeanTime as much as he is his own coming of Age. He learns quickly but can be slow to change. He is an unmatched Equestrian. But he much prefers his Pegasus - Norrie.


    SOZ is pansexual. For him, it is all the same, love or otherwise. He does not distinguish one from another or love and sex. Either or works for him. People are people, God and Mortal alike. He holds no prejudices. He is currently betrothed but to say beloved is a bridge too far for SOZ. He believes some things are just implied. His smile, should he choose to use it against you, could stop your heart in a good way. You just want to stay in that moment. HE has a casual nature about him while his intensity remains undisputed. On the downside though, he can be touchy. In his defense though, he is acutely sensitive.


    His sensitivity leads him more into long-term relationships and he has been betrothed to his husband/wife for quite some time. He Co-Chairs alongside him/her. They nurture their own offshoots together and take turns bringing them forth. They have a few to their names by now. SOZ adores children and animals. Too many who visit there, their home is a constant state of confusion and perpetual motion. For them, the both of them, it is heavenly.


    The Omnipresence of SOZ is Magnanimous by Nature. When desperate times call for desperate measures, he will first and foremost, err on the side of caution and give parties the benefit of the doubt, until he is convinced otherwise. His Ego is the least of his worries. Mostly due to the fact that Zeus had quelled his significantly prior to bringing SOZ forth and Demeter¡¯s was very well balanced to begin with.


    SOZ would be the kind of guy you might run across anywhere and think to yourself, hmm. You would know instinctively that he is approachable and has that certain something about him, but you would probably just go about your business instead. Then you would remember him in passing later and think, ¡°do I know that guy?¡± That best describes his look in manifestation. He is easy on the eyes and not intimidating but slightly mesmerizing and he immediately gets in your head. His skin tone is ¡°musky¡± and there are slight wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles. He has a wide, toothy smile and his whole face smiles when he does. His favorite weapon is the whip. Of course, it would be. He tends to wear well fitted garb to stop it from getting caught on his own attire. He wants to make sure he keeps it free for maximum use. He is also very handy with a lasso. He has no color preferences and in competition, he takes the prize for the highest jump.


    His Omniscience is arbitration. You need to be careful with him though because he is able to talk anyone into or out of anything. Know your place going in for sure. That¡¯s my advice.


    All Hail Lord SOZ! Hats off to him. (And maybe bend a knee a bit for good measure.)


    DIONE


    (The Tribute on Counsel)


    Inspired by The Goddess Persephone, Dione is a resurrection in spirit of Zeus Almighty¡¯s female in form, while still being from the energy thereof. So yes, the she/he for this age. Originally named Adion, eventually A Dion and then Dione, and a Lordess/Lord, Dione is addressed in name only with everything else implied. The name says it All. Dione, even in spirit, is embodiment of the female/male and can never be seen as otherwise. Dione is not a Hermaphrodite though. That would be considered blasphemous by them. Dione is simply the best of both. Dione has long, flowing, dark chocolate hair either or. Dione has smoky eyes and brows either or. Dione is of average disposition of height and weight, either or. You cannot tell them apart.


    When Dione enters a room, Dione sweeps in emphatically, while nuanced, with locks trailing and smile leading. The smile of Dione is reminiscent of Zeus¡¯ at his most kindest, and possesses all the grace of Persephone at her finest. There is an air about Dione that endears and attracts All energy and sets Dione apart from any contention or dispute. Dione does not rise above the fray. Dione embraces the fray like a hug. When you think of Dione, think of the Statue of Liberty - personified. Such is the energy of Dione, The Other Co-chair of the Fourth Chair who can Second or First, depending on what All is required.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The Omnipotence of Dione is the very Convergence represented by their inspiration. Where Whatever comes together and then Separates from there, in that moment, you are in the Point of Convergence holding hands with Dione. You are then in good hands with the Past, Present and Future. You are in good hands with Time, Space and Infinity. You are in good hands with God and Mortal alike. You are in good hands with In Kind and Keeping With. Such is the Omnipotence of Dione.


    Beloved and Betrothed by and with SOZ, Dione is capable of holding his interest indefinitely. Now, to clarify, there is no blood between them while they do have a legacy in common. Here is where it is so important to understand that conception is in spirit and by idea. And ideas can merge. Ideas are better if they can merge. This is why Convergence is so important and must always precede any Separation, for safety¡¯s sake. Dione is not a legacy of Zeus. Dione is a Tribute to Zeus. Dione is a resurrection of the energy Zeus retired upon the passing of The Torch. Persephone seized hold of that female energy Zeus let slip and held onto it until such time as a New Counsel of Gods was made mention of, and then, patience gave way to a certain vengeance she had been holding onto for a while. Her time had come. Dione was arisen.


    From here on in, if I say - in spite of - there is spite to be reconciled that has followed course from the beginning. Keep in mind, Gods are only human after All, because All intended for humanity above All else. We are All Humanity and we are always in the midst of Humanity. All is the Humanitarian Nature of Everything, God and Mortal alike and All Life and Light inclusive. Without Humanitarianism, the Universe will fall in on itself. The Universe will implode and become just another black hole, life others that have fallen before. The greatest threat to Humanity is from the Inside. So Convergence is integral to continuance, and therefore, the lynchpin of All lynchpins.


    Dione¡¯s Omnipresence is Genuine because Dione is nothing if not Genuine. For most, this would be a heavy burden to bear. For Dione, it''s a piece of cake that Dione relishes in. True to form, and true to nature, Dione is a Genuine conception brought forth through resurrection by Persephone with the intent to teach everyone a lesson. Nobody should have ever underestimated her. The manifestation of Dione is form is near indescribable. Dione is breathtaking and subtle. Dione prefers muted tones and lets adornments make their statement. (Who doesn¡¯t love a good statement piece?) Accessories make the Tribute. Dione always wears lipstick. Dione loves to draw attention to the lips. Dione wields the Scythe. One forged specifically to cut to the chase. Dionne seldom competes for sport, but if pushed, will hit back and pull no punches.


    Dione¡¯s Omniscience is keeping All hands on deck. Where there is All, you have everything you need to work with. Hence, Convergence possibilities become endless.


    All Hail The Tribute that is Dione! And also give Persephone a round of applause while you are at it!


    LORDESS NYXANA


    (Aphrodite¡¯s idea of a Woman¡¯s Woman)


    Aphrodite was determined to conceive of the ultimate female energy to rival any other female and every other male energy. She poured her ¡°heart¡± and ¡°soul¡± into Nyxana. She took her time in creating her idea, going again and again to the drawing board. Aphrodite is an artist and her medium is a blank canvas to start with. More than once, she wiped it clean and started again. Nyxana emerged from this canvas as she, herself ,had once emerged from the deep recesses of the sea, within a clam shell - as a pearl. What formed, as a result of her vigilance, was a true work of art. She then gave the painting the breath of life. The unparalleled beauty of Nyxana has no rivals.


    Nyx can hardly be described. Her rare beauty has no words that would do her justice. This is where my own limited imagination fails me. All I can say is imagine the most beautiful person you can think of and that would only be the beginning. Imagine the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, and then realize, that is just the start. Add the most beautiful sunrise you have borne witness to and the most beautiful night sky you have looked up at, combined with the most beautiful landscape and the most beautiful ocean view and you are getting the picture. Top that off with the most beautiful smile and laugh that has lifted your spirits from the depths of despair to the heights of heaven and put them altogether. It would still pale by comparison to Nyx, but you get the idea. Only Aphrodite could have conceived of her.


    As a woman¡¯s woman, Nyx is a lesbian by conception and choice. She much prefers the company of women but does hold men and male energy in enough high regard to balance her desires. To Nyx, men do, of course, have their place, but women occupy most of her time and thought. She is a sucker for a pretty face. And that makes her dangerous. So she is the First Co-Chair of the Sixth Chair for reasons. We could all fall victim to her beauty should she sit any higher and very little would get done. So mesmerizing is she. Fortunately for everyone, Nyx fell madly in love with a Meadow Nymph named Paradise, whom she adores to no end. Pari is adorable, so it makes sense. Spritely, with a head full of dark, bouncy curls and a smattering of freckles across her slightly upturned nose and breasts that Nyx can barely keep her hands off, Pari can keep Nyx thoroughly distracted for lengths of time, much to the relief of everyone else. Pari is playful and seems to embody endless energy and they can be found running through the fields of Olympus playing ¡°catch me if you can¡± by sunlight and moonlight, with their laughter filling the air and giving us all sweet dreams.


    Nyx has an Omnipotence in Spirit. She can shed all form and semblance to disperse equally and equitably in Flux. This gives her the ability to keep things interesting enough to create the possibility for change and promote new ideas. She comes alive at night in the dreams of many who awaken ready to take on the world with renewed energy, optimism, inspiration and ideals. Still, you can turn a corner during the day and accidentally run into her without knowing and your whole mood can change in an instant. If you ever see a spark of light out of the corner of your eye and wonder what that is or was, just remember, the Universe is always in Flux.


    The one thing everyone is acutely aware of is that you never want to be the one to make Nyx frown. Her frown can turn the whole world dark. An unhappy Nyx is everyone¡¯s worst nightmare. A dream can turn into a nightmare in a nano. That is Flux. When beauty turns on itself, it is ominous by design. The Beauty of it All is indicative in the Nature of Nyx. Having her there to represent it is imperative, but keeping it safe is of the Highest Order. A smile on the face of Nyx is its own reward. She is cherished for her smile. Keeping that smile in its place is a responsibility taken very seriously on Counsel.


    Bearing that, it is important to keep in mind and to understand that being the dream child of The Goddess of Love, who, having lived and learned from her own mistakes, Aphrodite watches over Nyxana carefully and knows her like she knows herself. While Aphrodite is known to hover, she is also inclined to keep her distance and sometimes, the chips must fall where they may, but if she has to, she will help pick them back up and help Nyx set them right because love is still important.


    The Omnipresence of Nyx is Going and Growing with the Flow. Running contrary to anything for no good reason irks her like nothing else. If you aspire to being a contrarian for the sake of being a contrarian, you are missing The Beauty of it All. That is your bad.


    Since you cannot really imagine what it would be like to look upon Nyx since words do not suffice, know this, she is every color in the rainbow and wears them with pride. Her greatest strength is her feminine and she wields her wiles expertly. (She can also pull a blade and cut like a knife or stick it in your back when you least expect it.) She knows everything women can and should be. Don¡¯t tread on her, talk over her or rain on her parade. If she frowns on you, get used to the darkness. Aside from her discus, Nyx is her weapon of choice. Athletically, she has a penchant for gymnastics, physical, verbal and mental. She especially loves her cartwheels and backflips. Nyx knows how to stick the landing.


    Her Omniscience is stirring the pot. She can brew, simmer, feed or boil over. What the pot contains is always changing.


    All Hail Lordess Nyxana! For the love of God.


    I DIGRESS


    (In All Fairness and Fairness to All)


    Let¡¯s take a moment and talk about Love. I¡¯m sure by now, there are many that are wondering where it is on Counsel. Why isn''t it ranking higher or represented at this time? Where is the love? Certainly it is woven throughout the relationships between the Lords and Lordesses but it has no standing in and of itself. It is implied and applied among them according to their understanding.


    Maybe, we need to take a closer look at love for ourselves. Especially since we are the ones that have diminished it over time. We chose to set it up as paramount on a pedestal of our own making and effectively began to tear it down at every turn. We divided it, dissected it, cordoned it off and parceled and parsed it out to our own liking. We chose to own it, so we can, in turn, own its impending demise.


    For love to survive, it requires an environment to sustain it - indefinitely. We are choosing to ignore the environment to a discouraging degree. We separate the environment into a matter of science, not a matter of life and if you take love out of the environment it needs to thrive, then you take love out of the equation life needs to care about it All. It is All science. Things either add up or they don¡¯t. We keep wanting to distinguish what matters. Everything matters. All matter is energy, including thought, which by the way, stems from matter - the brain. We don¡¯t pull thought out of thin air. Those creationist who believe singularly in one way the earth was created chose not to see that as science when it is, and rightfully so. Why can¡¯t your God be the greatest scientist of All time? Why did he do it if not for that reason? Why can¡¯t spirituality be a science? Why can¡¯t love be part of the equation? That¡¯s all it is and all it was ever meant to be. Part of the equation. The environment that sustains it is what is ParaMount.


    The Counsel is All about a sustaining environment for All Time. The Lords and Lordesses of this Counsel and every Counsel on High have been called to meet the need of the environment, from the micro to the macro. As on Earth, so in Heaven. As in Heaven, so on Earth. They do not exist separate and apart from each other. They are always one in the same. There is no going to heaven. There is no coming to Earth. There is only coexistence. All in one environment. One that needs to be sustained for All Time. Or fail and fall in on itself. Implosion has and continues to remain possible where anything and everything is possible, but then it ends. No more possibilities exist beyond there.


    Again, taking Love out of the environment is taking life out of the equation. Let love live in the environment and backlight everything but keep what matters at the forefront. This Counsel is about First and Foremost. First and Foremost - we need an environment in which to live.


    What is the biggest Myth of All? That love is the greatest power. No. It is not. There is no power to love. The power is in the environment that sustains it. And think this through logically for a second. The better the environment, the better the love, it would stand to reason. The healthier the environment, the healthier the love. The stronger the environment, the stronger the love. How hard is it to see that? Because the moat (not mote) in your eye would prevent it.


    So yes, we need to save this world and do better by it. Especially if you believe in love and want to keep believing in love. And you should. Because it has been determined, in its honor, and thus, the honor of Aphrodite, that love be deemed a ¡°constant¡±. Love is a constant possibility in All Things. There is on caveat, however. ¡°So long as there is hope¡±. There must be hope in All possibilities, always. More now than ever. The other side of the Rubicon(or Styx) is in sight. But how do we turn it All around? We can¡¯t do it alone. News Flash incoming! We never could. We were never meant to. Thank Heavens we don¡¯t have to. But where in Heaven''s name is the help we need? And how do we get the help we need in time? They are asking the same with regards to us. We need to eliminate all the degrees of separation between the us and them that have been built up over time. We need to dismantle the distrust and exclusionary policies that keep us at odds one with another. We need to find a single point of convergence we can all agree upon. Then and only then, can we rend the veil and rid us of the moat. Then we can wipe the sleep from our eyes that we have been lulled into. We can truly remember a time when God and Mortal alike lived alongside each other and we can want that again. We can rewrite the history that made us want to banish them that was bastardized by those who sought to control with a single Iron Fist and Crusades of Hate and Hierarchy (and Patriarchy).


    So as you read on, you are helping me rewrite the history that was highjacked. Together we can discover the one single point of convergence that is All it would take. And what is that point of convergence?


    In the end, it will be Kismet.

 History Unfolding Part 3

    CHAPTER THREE


    History Unfolding Part 3


    Harken Back to the Counsel of Olympus


    (3 Remaining)


    For the Record: I am writing this on November 18, 2024.


    Why does this matter? Because this is the last day of the Iron Age of Man, man being the operative noun. Tomorrow, Pluto moves into Aquarius. For those that have been tracking the Age of Aquarius, this is the moment we have all been waiting for. Let the Enlightenment begin. Tomorrow we move into the Dawn of The New Golden Age of Humankind. It¡¯s about fucking time. Yes, I can swear and still be enlightened. There is a rage brewing beneath the surface that has erupted in measurable amounts but is nothing like what lays in wait in full. This is not going to be all peace, love and understanding. We are in the midst of the Wrath of Gaia. Never before seen atmospheric anomalies are occurring. This will continue and escalate. Gaia is rising up. The earth is a living organism fighting for her own survival against the abuse she has sustained at the hands of her stewards whose responsibility it was to protect her. A lot of that abuse became especially violent towards her while Pluto was in Capricorn. It¡¯s been a bad marriage rife with the kind of domestic violence that will eventually result in severe consequences of one kind or another. This is our final warning.


    Aquarius is the reigning sign of Humanitarianism. Pluto will be in Aquarius for almost two decades. If you are not prepared for it, your ignorance may come back to bite you in the ass. If you think the Humanitarian energy means tea and sympathy, think again. Humanitarians are the warriors of change. They are the warriors you need to fear the most because they fight for principles. They don¡¯t fight for land, religion, freedom or mineral rights. They battle to the death for what they stand for. True Humanitarians should be feared when they come together under a cause or against a thorn in their side. Between the rise of the Wrath of Gaia and the Dawn of the New Golden Age of Humankind, we are in for a really bumpy ride and everyone needs to buckle up or buck up. You¡¯re call,


    The reason I digress before finishing the introductions of the New Counsel of Olympus is to prepare for the threefold. Three has always been the magick number. From trinities to Fates to The Witching Hour, things to the power of three have deeper meaning. Three remaining was intentional on my part - for this day. Starting with the Forge. Lord of the Iron and the End of the Age.


    LORD FORGE


    Brought forth to bear by the great God, Hephaestus, Forge was named for who he is and what he does - better than anyone else. Forge ahead. He is the Alchemist who can turn Iron into Gold. As the Second Co-Chair of the Fifth Chair, he prefers to take a back seat to the Conventions of Counsel. He is the strong, silent type. Being of Hephaestus, he did inherit a limp due to one leg being shorter than the other by conception. This is a trait. Traits cannot be undone by Omnipotence. As a result of the limp, Forge was forced to endure a hunched form which interfered with his work in metallurgy. Annoyed, he finally resolved the problem for himself. He crafted the finest sword he could devise, of the strongest material available to him which he further cast and hew until it could cut through anything with a single slice. Even the leg of a God. One fell swoop later - problem solved. He threw the offending leg into the fire and attached a new one he had fashioned already, from the same material. Then he proceeded to make more to fit for any and every occasion. His collection of prosthetic legs impressively lines the walls of his domain/workshop. Forge resides by the furnace stoked by the Eternal Flame of Olympus. Forge is one tough God.


    Forge never made mention of this change, and likewise, no one else did either. Hephaestus attempted to approach him on the subject, thought better of it and chose instead to simply nod his head in approval of the best work he had ever seen. That was the end of any discussion. First off, if you decide there is a need to confront Forge on any matter, one must bear in mind, he is intimidating. He is the second tallest Lord on Counsel, the widest, massive in the muscle he has built up in Omnipotence through his time in blacksmithing, his favorite craft, and very much a brute if he chooses. He is dark skinned, has steel gray eyes, a braided beard and shaved head. He sits cross-armed with the appropriate body language that discourages any second guessing.


    His Omnipotence courses through him like molten metal. He will be the one to Iron out any difficulties that may arise. He is the The Craftsperson, The Alchemist, The Prevailing Hermetic and The Hermit. He has almost no personality. He has very little use for one. He is much too busy to worry about it and gives zero fucks what anyone thinks of him.


    There was definitely much discussion that ensued over the choice of Forge for a seat and what seat on Counsel. It was one of those motions where the deciding vote had to be cast by Lord Blaze. Obviously, we know what his decision was. Some think it is because, in his own way, and by virtue of his Apparent Legacy, not to mention the willingness to dispense with his own leg knowing he himself could craft a better one himself, Forge is hot. That would not go unnoticed by Blaze. Or maybe he just likes him. That¡¯s possible.


    They share a similar reluctance when it comes to being a God. Forge distances himself from it and hides behind his work. He is responsible for designing, crafting and imbuing all the weaponry of the Gods. That does take up a lot of his time. His other preoccupation, strangely enough, is his Pool Table. When not working, he will be practicing his bank shots and clearing the table. Of course, he made it himself, by hand. He spent ages on it.


    Forge has chosen to ignore Omnipresence unless by undeniable necessity. He is the Lord you least want to call on anyways. When there is a necessity, he rises to the occasion of his destiny to protect Olympus at any cost. Olympus is his greatest love and being an Olympian is his greatest source of pride.


    Knowing that he was not conceived in idea or brought forth through inception by the most handsome of Gods, Forge chooses instead, to lean into his appearance in form or manifestation, rather than shy away from it. He does not try otherwise, He is always Forge, such as he is, and he has a much better handle on himself because of it. He often only dresses from the waist down, and dons a maker''s apron while working. His helmet is his calling card. Embedded within it are the bejeweled eyes of a tiger. Adorning it are the plumage of a Raven. Alongside where it holds to his head, are the serpents and he covers his eyes with a visor made from the night sky. He will wear tight fitting leggings of flame resistant fabric that prevent his clothing from catching on anything, and heavy boots that you can hear coming as he approaches. Nyx was the only Lordess eager to sit alongside him because he does not make her nervous at all. She would gladly be his best friend in the Universe if he allowed that to be the case.


    Omniscience is the easiest for Forge. The Craft is at the heart of all things for him. He can master any weapon. He is always seeking to improve on them. However, his hammer is his favorite and no one can throw one as fast, as far and with as much force as he can, (except maybe Thor, but we shall see.) His work is his passion. His one concern for most is how ominous he can be. However, they know that could prove to come in very favorable for them at some point in time. They must rise above it themselves, for themselves in the MeanTime. That is their task at hand.


    Don¡¯t Hail Lord Forge. Hail Olympus if you don¡¯t want to upset him.


    LORDESS MARIANAS


    (Named for the Trench)


    Conceived of by the way and waves of Hermes, who inherited the Oceans subsequent to the retirement of Poseidon, Marianas is named for the deepest of the deep blue seas On Earth as in Heaven. Marnie is the First Co-Chair of the Sixth and Final Chair on Counsel. She is also a mermaid, when in her own environment. She has legs on land. Long and shapely, with nary a hair in sight. She glides in heeled sandals and is the most demure of all Lordesses. Slightly shy and nervous, she feels very much like the fish out of water when called upon to sit. She has never made a single motion to Counsel. Her Second Co-Chair doesn¡¯t mind. She has the longest hair of ringlets which she usually wears up and out of her way. Still, she will not cut it. She likes the way it flows behind her in the waters off Olympus. Her originator and sometimes proud father, Hermes, knows she is the fastest swimmer in all of Olympus due to the strength of her fishtail.


    Marnie is an acrobat in the Ocean. What she is capable of in the water is the very thing legends are made of. She can create whirlpools, tidal waves, tsunamis, hurricanes, monsoons and riptides to her ¡°heart¡¯s¡± content. She can truly stir things up. She can surf on the strength of her tail on waves she raised up to her satisfaction, hair trailing behind her while she expertly rips through a tube all the way to the shore, where she quickly dives back in before legs appear. She longs for the power of the wind to her name as well instead of having to rely on it through Nature¡¯s Way. Not a good idea though, because Marnie is always discontent. For no particular reason. Even at her happiest, while catching the best wave she ever managed to conjure up, she will wish it was better than that. For her, something is forever lacking. She associates with something outside herself, but really, it comes from within.


    It is not a lack of beauty. Certainly not a lack of standing or legacy. There is no lack of love for her. But named for the Trench, the deepest recesses of her needs quite get met. She is often polishing her iridescent tail to its finest sheen and glory, only momentarily satisfied with the results before she might start again, if she is not distracted away from it by some well-meaning creature of the sea. This will occur most often by her gifted caretaker in residence, the aged water nymph Bless, who keeps a watchful eye on her. Sadly, Marnie struggles with an Obsessive Compulsive Nature. She has difficulty sustaining a relationship as a result of this nature and feels there is only one God deserving of her full attention. Blaze. However, he could never return that same attention in full. He is a Lord divided. So she cycles through other possibilities. Hypersexuality goes with the territory of OCD. This does not go against her in her calling because everybody knows where she gets it from. The racing mind of Hermes. (Mr. Mercurial himself.)


    Her Omnipotence is the Sands of Time. Either ocean bed or beach, shifting sands mark the passage of time. All history is written in the Sands of Time. Marnie can, because of her acute nature and perception, spot a single grain out of place. This will irk her. Every grain represents a moment in time. She is constantly charged with the responsibility of accounting for them. Time is of the Essence.


    When not otherwise occupied by distraction, from one instance or intervention, or another, Marnie loves to decorate her domain, and redecorate her domain, etc. etc. In a temple under the ocean where her familiars reside, she has a most generous space to call her own, and she will seek out the finery she desires most at the moment and fill her space with pillows and throws of the softest and most luxurious fabrics in a bevy of colors. She will line the walls with draperies and the floors with carpets woven by hand. Her bed is the focal point, large and round and piled high with linens, comforters, and yes, even more pillows. Her wardrobe is always bursting at the seams with what seems like an endless array of fashion. Hermes Beloved and Betrothed at this time is always seeking to borrow from her. Marnie lets her and then gets annoyed at herself for letting her.


    Marnie¡¯s hallmark is her sigh. A sigh from her speaks volumes. While it can mean many things specifically, it always means a growing disinterest on her part in the midst of whatever might be going on at the time. It can mean the end of an entire discussion if Marnie checks out. Many have been tabled for a later date. No one can argue with her about it since the Sands of Time run through her. At times, it is necessary to walk on eggshells around her or leave her out of it until necessary because it is not as though she is going to take any initiative. But her opinion does matter very much so it is a balancing act. Blaze must be extremely delicate with her feelings, understanding that she is in love with him, while he adores her but also (secretly) feels for her. He would never want to hurt her, but, also, would inevitably hurt her unknowingly.


    Still waters run deep and deep waters run still. This is the Omnipresence of Marianas. She glides, she slides, she has even been known to creep up on you, awake or asleep. While she can create a storm from a single current or a hurricane from a single drop of rain if the conditions are right, you might not even realize she is there.


    Marianas is every mermaid you have ever seen in books or movies, from cartoon to realistic through CG - and then some. Her ringlets are the colors of mother-of-pearl. Her eyes are emerald green. Her skin is radiant, her tail majestic and catches the light in brilliance with hues that range through her chakras. Marnie is highly stylish and has strands of pearls for whatever look she aspires to that day. Her skin has a slight bluish undertone while her cheeks are peaches and cream. She is also, due to her athleticism, and strong swimming skills, able to drown - well, let¡¯s just leave it at that. There are remains at the bottom of the Trench that may never be identified. People do try to get into Olympus with ill intent through the sea. All it takes is one grain of sand out of place for them to lose their way. After All, the Sirens blessed her as well. She is very much a danger if she is allowed to get her hooks into you.


    She has the Omniessence (not Omniscience like the others) of time being on her side. That is due to her equal distribution of attributes as a Lordess and a Mermaid. She also has Hermes to thank for that, because he was always one of the most cleverest of all Gods. He was quick on the uptake. When he decided to conceive of a Legacy, he called in all the reinforcements available to him oceanwide. Including the Kraken. That subject will emerge later.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Suffice it to say, Marnie has a dark side. Everybody has a dark side. Not everybody has her dark side.


    All Hail Lordess Marianas. The pride and joy of Hermes.


    THE MODERN MYTH


    (Equivalency Test)


    There is a myth that a God in Heaven, named Jehovah, sent his only begotten son to earth. Firstly, ¡°only begotten son¡±? For a God of his age. Really? Only one? I find that very hard to believe right off the top. Well, this myth takes hold and becomes universally accepted and believed by millions as supported by the scribes of that time that wrote it all down. This became a book that many live by. The stories told within have the same kinds of exaggerations that would keep you in food and lodging those days. This book is full of great stories. I will give it that. The problem is when it becomes Gospel, something is lost in translation. It stops being a really great book.


    You know what else is a great book. The combined The Iliad and The Odyssey. Amazing reads! Love them. Again, fantastic stories. Not gospel though. There is the Book of the Dead. Not Gospel. The Quran. Gospel. There are Gods that are real. Jehovah and Allah come to mind. Then there are Gods that are not real and never were. These ones are figments of the imagination of the people at that time who needed to try and explain the world in which they lived and establish some kind of hierarchy. No similarities whatsoever there? So what makes Jehovah real and Zeus not? What makes Allah real and Osiris not. Short answer - nothing. Certainly, no empirical data of any kind.


    Whatever you believe that makes you want to be a better person for your own sake and the sake of others is all you need to believe. You can make it up yourself and make it up as you go along. There are no hard and fast rules to ¡°belief¡±. No one belief is any better than any other unless it serves your interest, and then it is only better for you and others like you, but not for everyone. Your belief can be religion, a modern construct in the organizational sense, or it can be science. Your belief can be philosophy or literature, creativity or Agnosticism. If it rings true to you and helps you to be true to yourself and move through this life in harmony, your belief is in line with your existence. What it offers you in return is determined by the belief you resonate with. None of it is Gospel. Gospel is a myth. A sometimes really good one, but still just a myth.


    There are no limitations placed on belief and Heaven is expansive enough to be able to accommodate and include all of them. But discluding any of them is Unequal and Inequitable and Unacceptable. That pisses some Gods off who feel like they are being pushed aside and not receiving equal time where they can do some good without taking anything away from anybody, unless there is resistance. There are, however, rights that exist in Heaven as on Earth. One of those preeminent rights are Rights of Redemption and they go both ways. Just as mortals are redeemable beings, deities of any kind or designation are redeemable beings.


    There are realms that exist in Heaven. There are different areas within Heaven. Heaven beyond the veil is massive and goes all the way to High Heaven, for now. How and where does heaven exist in relationship to Earth and within the galaxy it inhabits? It is not somewhere in the sky or the stars. Heaven is a transcendental plane of existence for energy beings of different distinctions but is real to anyone who lives there. Pure energy can appear to have form but that is a manifestation. In Heaven, there is no form. All presence of any kind is manifestation, otherwise, it is energy in its purest form - which is light and light beings . The space between two stars would be enough room for a Heaven to fit all life on earth that is and has been. But since Heaven is not a fixed plane, it can be anywhere, anytime and subject to change. Heaven is not any one thing. Heaven is the greatest convergence of ALL.


    This is an oversimplification of extremely complex layers of understanding, but there is a reason I bring this up. There are mortals that, to this day, go to Olympus Underworld when they depart this mortal coil. This is not going to hell or ¡°Hades¡± for all time. This is the redemption process they are entitled to based on their belief that Olympus and the Olympians, old and new, serve them best. Yes, there are people like me that believe that Olympus is real and want to go to Olympus when they die. Many of them since and still. And after crossing the River Styx, accepting their judgment, taking their rightful place at that time and resolving their residual karma, they can be redeemed. They may go to the Elysian Fields, or they may choose to join the mortal populace in spirit that inhabits Olympus and become ¡°community¡±. Or, they may choose to rise to the occasion of a destiny in mind and Ascend into Godhood. One such soul has Ascended enough (but not quite all the way) to represent mortality on The New Counsel of Olympus. She is the Second Co-Chair of the Sixth and Final Chair. And the First mortal to ever sit on a Counsel of Gods.


    ASCENDANT RHE


    (Somewhat of a Mysterhe)


    Rhe, as she is now known, made it to Erebus fully aware of where she was but having no recollection of who she used to be, from whence she came or who she else by name she had in her life. She did not remember parents, siblings, friends or lovers, if any. That was entirely consumed by the River Styx in crossing. Upon passing through the portal of Erebus, she wandered down a long hall with twists and turns that took further into the recesses of her own soul and tested her merit. If she turned back, her chance at redemption would be lost. This would mean she did not have the merit to warrant another chance. There were some pretty dark turns along the way that caused her to tremble at her own inadequacies. She shed tears where she knew she had failed herself, and thus, any others. There was a cold and lonely spot where she dropped to the icy floor and curled up in the fetal position and whimpered and shivered herself into a restless slumber. She felt feverish and overcome with thirst. If she didn¡¯t remind herself she was already dead, she would have preferred to die at that moment. She had to remind herself, but this was perhaps the most devastating revelation. To tell yourself you are dead and accept the truth of your own demise is gut wrenching, to say the least. She almost wished she had gone into the light instead - almost. But she had longed for this to be her outcome. She had longed for Olympus.


    Finally, and with great effort, she pulled herself to her feet and inched her way along the corridor until she came to yet another turn. There was a flicker of a flame towards the end. A torch fastened to the top of the wall. This was her first indication she was on the right track. The torch was hers to bear for the rest of the way. The path began to rise ever so slowly from there. The darkest recess turned into minor infractions she could live with. She rested a little more often now, aware that she was not in the same hurry as before to escape herself. She reconciled her faults much easier and faster than her failings. She could not be perfect here. She just had to be a good enough person for her own liking. Once she could admit to that honestly, she could rest. It did take time. How much time cannot be measured in minutes or hours or days or even months. It takes as long as it takes. And it did. She made it to the juncture. There she found a door that led to a small, unadorned room with a mat and a pillow and a single blanket. To her, it was the most comfortable room she had ever known. There, she rested.


    For an indeterminate amount of time, she meditated on the failings until she felt sure she knew exactly where she went wrong and what she should have done instead and what she would do next time, given the chance. There were some visceral reactions, including dry heaves and the feeling of being stripped naked to her core. She felt they were fair. Still, in conclusion, she determined that she had been a good enough person for the most part. She breathed a long, low sigh of relief. She had been. Over All, Rhe was a good person, everything considered.


    Eventually, she was retrieved by a gentle guide who took her to her panel for final judgment and disposition. She was given her choices from there. She could stay in Erebus and assist with a good life to her name and a truly comfortable position. She could go back through the tunnels and try again to unburden herself entirely for an Eternity in the Elysian Fields. Bliss forever. She could find her place in community and carry on her mortality in spirit or she could accept the occasion of her destiny that was in mind for her as determined by The Fates and ascend further, and possibly into Godhood. Rhe chose Ascension.


    She wanted to see the Olympus she had dreamed about. The one that called her for as long as she could remember. That still lived inside her. Rhe was taken to the Chamber to await to ready herself through study and more meditation. She adopted her new name there. Rhe it was. Eventually, Rhe moved on to Olympus. She was assigned to the Great Hall of Justice under the watchful eye of Athena and her attendants. Rhe helped keep house and took to her position and the challenges she faced with a quiet determination. She had strength of character and the will to listen and learn. She became transcended, but her destiny was still in abeyance. Of course, it is not so clear cut as being told what it is. It is set in mind as intended for you. You must follow your path from there and eventually realize the occasion of your destiny and rise to it.


    One day it was determined that she could decide her own way forward and take charge of her own life from there. Rhe knew she wanted to work and earn her way and stay as best she could. She was offered the opportunity for discernment on where she could best apply her efforts in that regard. She readily accepted, thinking that would be the right thing to do. Expediency in mind, she requested direction by discernment. It may have been the right thing to do. It certainly didn¡¯t seem that way to anyone subsequent to discernment by none other than Athena herself. Here is where The Fates have their day and their way. Rhe was directed to Apprentice under the direction of Lord Forge. No one wants that.


    Pretoria, who by now had become a friend to her, turned pale and felt that this was unfair given Rhe was only transcended at the time. Tory was worried this would cost Rhe any chance she had at Ascension into Godhood. Secretly, she did not think that Rhe would last a day in the Forge. This was not ¡°work¡± as she intended it to be. This was toil under the tutelage of the Lord named for it and one with it. One being how he saw things. He would never go for this and that would be that. With her Ascension on the line, Rhe had to find a way forward. She was, by now, familiar with her surroundings and was not about to lose ground. Rhe believed she was destined for Godhood. Suddenly, the only thing coming between her and Ascension was a single, solitary Lord who could prove her wrong with an unceremonious dismissal. Even if it was by discernment, he could decline and he was the type of God to decline. Yes, there would be recourse available. Justice to prevail. And Justice was on her side. Her prospects did not look good. She was not sure what her reputation would be. She requested to follow through on discernment. Knowing Forge, being somewhat in kind and in keeping with him - relatively speaking, Pretoria, determined to look out for her, agreed to escort her.


    So it was set. Rhe fretted when suddenly one thing came to her mind from her time in reconciliation of her Karma. If she had the chance to do it over again, she would do it right. Whatever that was, because it had long since left her. But the understanding was there. You only have one chance to make a good first impression. She had failed herself there with a reluctance on her part for whatever reason. She had delayed herself and rushed herself out the door at the last minute, and was caught unprepared. Not this time. She had to make the right first impression. It had to be good. She poured over the list of things she thought she was good at, looking for one that resonated with her for this challenge to move forward with her life. Her own life in Olympus. That was what she was striving for. The one thing she knew for certain she was really good at was baking her favorite thing. Pies. She had a knack for pies. The flaky crust was her specialty. The combination of flavors and spices had to be mouth-wateringly on point. They had to reflect her environment. She could not rely on any old standard. This had to be the right pie for the occasion. She landed on fig, apple and toasted walnut in a sweet, sticky sauce with deep rich spices and a slight touch of black pepper to enhance the depth of flavor and add a touch of heat. It took her three tries. Once satisfied with the result, she readies herself as best she could. She gave herself as much time as she needed. She took her time. Then she steadied herself and off they went to The Forge.


    Who knew Forge had a sweet tooth? None did. This is where they found out. This was not an interview. She offered him the pie upon introduction. Pretoria had her misgivings until she saw the way he looked at it. This was a look she had never seen. His curiosity was obvious. He studied it briefly, then took hold of it. He inhaled the essence of the pie and the work that went into it. He did not plate a piece or offer any to anyone else. He dug his hand in, threw a sampling in his mouth, savored it momentarily, then inhaled it, licking his fingers afterwards, all the while, looking a Rhe as if she were a bug he was deciding between crushing and letting live. She could tell he tasted the hint of pepper and it was to his liking. The extra heat was the right call. He took the pie over to a table, sat there and ate it down. He looked over and gave Pretoria a nod. That was it.


    Rhe moved into The Forge that day. She had her own room, her own table to work away at and strict boundaries she adhered to. She was given leather, tools, pots of molten metals, jewels and all the knowledge she needed to do his finishing work, which, as chance would have it, was his least favorite but highly sought after by Olympians who preferred their weapons to look the part on the behalf, as much as do the job. Rhe loved her apprenticeship. This suited her. Her designs became more intricate, her hands more steady and her resolve rooted in her own determination. They shared the responsibilities of The Forge and living together. There were other attendants that came and went, but Rhe stayed on. She cooked for them. He cleared afterwards. She would go to the market once a week to choose the best and freshest foods, and he would sharpen the knives, make whatever pots she needed and stock the kitchen with whatever she required. He stoked the fires while she prepped and they developed a lasting kinship. Eventually, they shared a bed. This was to both their liking. Neither of them were looking for love. Kinship was their mainstay. And this was how Rhe Ascended. Godhood was within her reach. By Ambrosia or Initiation, she was in line. Then the call came for the New Counsel of Olympus.


    Forge was being considered, as well he should be. However, he had one stipulation before he would consider it in return. He would not sit unless Rhe was likewise appointed. No one else quite understood their relationship. Why had he not put her forward to be considered for Godhood or initiated her himself since he was entitled. This is the Mysterhe. They knew that was not who they were to each other and it would only serve to confuse the nature of their relationship and the results could be detrimental if not disastrous to both. Forge insisted she could sit to their benefit so much the more as an Ascendant. He refused to try and convince them of it though. They could accept him on these terms, or look elsewhere. Anyone who had thought acceptance was on him, thought wrong.


    As I previously mentioned, much discussion occurred with Blaze casting the deciding vote. This is how Rhe became Ascendant Rhe on Counsel.


    Rhe has no Omni or powers. She adorns weapons but does not wield any herself. She is somewhat plain in a pretty kind of way. She is short but carries herself well. She knows she has a nice rack and pays no nevermind to it herself but does not care if someone else does. (¡°You are who you are.¡±) Rhe is most comfortable in jeans and t-shirts but tends to clean up for Counsel, which she does nicely enough. She is the keeper of her own secrets and plays her cards close to her chest. She is a quick study but not the most learned. She listens to learn. She will drop a truth bomb out of nowhere sometimes that lands unexpectedly and can be disruptive but has merit like herself. While she carries no weapons, and does not compete with the Gods, but she works out on her own and if challenged, you may get a kick out of her. Everyone agrees by now. Rhe is a good person. No one knows exactly where she came from and the River Styx will never give that up. She is Rhe. That is her distinction. That, and the fact that she still knows more about the world that she came from than they do, even if she can¡¯t remember the specifics. She is a much needed addition to Counsel at this time. Forge was right.


    All recognize the Ascendant Rhe! Thanks to the final vote.


    However, Blaze began to regret his decision shortly after. He found himself needled by a certain jealousy. Not sure for who though. You can never be quite sure with Blaze. At times it vexed him, and when it did, it showed to those who know him well and those who want to know him better.


    This is The Counsel. It begins and ends with Blaze. But that is just the start of the rest of the story.

 History Repeating Part 1

    CHAPTER FOUR


    History Repeating Part 1


    Lest We Forget


    (There is still that which is undone)


    For the Record: World Philosophy Day Theme, November 21, 2024 - Bridging Social Gaps. Highlighting philosophy¡¯s vital role in mending the social fabric and fostering a more cohesive society - Ali Asgahar Feizollahi


    In a small, discreet corner of the Universe unto itself, sits an alcove suspended in Space/Time with an energy force field surrounding it that can only be penetrated by a true intent by one who is true to their nature and speaks truth to power. In the alcove sits a clay jar about 3 feet high with an inscription on the exterior in glyphs of Sanskrit. On either side, there are flaming swords belonging to two ArchAngels. The first is Uriel. The second is Azrael. ArchAngels are non-denominational. They are simply, heavenly. How the story goes, is the truth bearer can only pierce the shield with the sword of Uriel. They must be able to take the truth. If they fail, the sword of death will relinquish them from any further possibility, that being their end.


    Once pierced, the energy field will fall and the jar can be accessed. This is the rending of the veil. The inscription Can then be read and exercised. This will bestow the Rights of Redemption into the hands of the truth teller. The truth teller, thus bestowed, can then lift the lid of the jar and release the contents, once and for All. The contents will then rejoin Heaven and Earth as one in the same in kind and in keeping with, for God and Mortal alike. This is known as The Charge.


    Every God in Heaven has the same Charge in the end. Some want to be in charge and remain in charge. That is not The Charge. Unification through a single point of Convergence behind the first degree of Separation is where the jar sits, suspended in Space/Time. All Life depends on this jar. The Final Word will loosen the lid for the contents to be released by one who is true to their Nature and the Natural Order of All Things. Each Counsel in Heaven has their own interpretation of The Charge and has structured themselves accordingly. They each work in their own way towards it. They Convene as a High Counsel to keep each other in their respective loops. This is not a competition. This is done in the true spirit of cooperation. For some. For others, they have their own way of doing things. None of it can be done without the jar. Within the jar - hope alone remains.


    When the Universe is at its most hopeless and All could fall in vain, then hope alone remains the only hope. This is how it all comes full circle. I am not about to go into details about the Pantheons and other Gods and their myths that tie into the circle or The Charge. This would never get written if I tried to do that. Also, there is so much misinformation and lost in translation rhetoric that is beyond deciphering in a single source. The best I can do is to try and boil this down into a single ¡°myth¡± for this time as the world sits on the brink of that aforementioned hopelessness. More and more people are feeling an utter sense of hopelessness as we near the crux. We are fast approaching the tipping point. There are still factors in play that stem the tide here and there, but The Sands of Time are continuing to slip through the Hourglass of Existence despite our best efforts to stall or stop them. Resistance is not futile but it always comes at a price. The price is usually paid in trade for a piece of our soul. If you add it all up in the end, it will cost us everything. But All is not lost on us.


    Hope is the powerful force of Nature. That is why it has been held in abeyance for when it is Absolutely Necessary and Needed. What we have now instead, is wishful thinking. It can not compare to what hope really is. Some call it faith and some call it magick, but it is just wishful thinking. Hopelessness is actually hopelessness though, and it is alive and well, because it was one of the ills that made it out of the jar before Pandora put a lid on things in time so as not to tarnish the one remaining energy that could turn her lapse in judgment entirely around. This all happened because one God and one Mortal decided to do battle for supremacy. They both paid the price. Zeus trapped hope through Pandora and Prometheus failed his family and everyone as a result. Ego prevailed. Curiosity got the better of Pandora in the midst of the men vying for attention and in a moment of abandonment, while they were caught up in their pissing contest, she opened the jar she was told not to. They took their eye off the prize, and out poured everything that is wrong with the world.


    Whether she was Eve taking a bit out of the Apple, or Dora opening what looked like a dusty, old harmless looking jar, neither was at fault. This is what happens when men choose Ego over what is their greatest strength. I¡¯ll leave that up to you to decide. This is not a heterosexual proprietary right. It could have just as easily been a man either way because it is the principle that matters. This is about how we treat and view each other. No other human, God or Mortal, should be considered dispensable to one¡¯s own Ego. Neglect has dire consequences for one¡¯s own sake. Survival notwithstanding, the furtherance of one¡¯s own ego at the expense of anything that sustains others, or All, creates a rift. And since Nature detests a vacuum, something inevitable comes in to fill the void. This is how we got the ills. Basically, that is what happens when you take your eye off the ball of the greater good. Not to sound preachy, but we are not solitary beings by Nature. Ego is the quest to be ¡°the only one¡± of any kind. We are all unique in our own way. That is a given. No one can be the only one of any kind. That would undermine anyone else¡¯s uniqueness. We are All one of a kind in keeping with All others. We are All as alike as we are All different. There is a point where we are all one in the same, God and Moral alike, and we differ from there. That will be the point where we All have hope. There was a point where All had hope. Until it got locked in a jar and sent away for future reference. A future reference point in Space/Time.


    The saving grace in the Sands of Time is the innate and inherent desire to be hopeful that does exist in this world in many if not most of us. We don¡¯t need to have hope to want hope. This attraction to hope is what will eventually lead to the hope and bring hope for us and to us. And as long as we want hope - hope remains. Again, full circle. That is the Beauty of it All, as it spins and turns through time. The only path to infinity is full circle. A beautiful, eternal gyroscope in the sky that continues to turn in every which direction, each with an infinite path and each path full of possibilities. That is All.


    And as with every gyroscope, there must be an axis around which it spins to keep it in its rightful place. The Axis is pivotal. The axis is Absolute necessity, which leads to and from Akasha. Akasha is an Absolute must.


    IN THE MEANTIME


    (The Muse)


    These, among other things, are what Blaze tends to muse on at the end of the day while he stares longingly into a fine drink he allows himself to take the edge off. Tonight, it is a good scotch. This was first introduced to him an eon ago through a community mortal who first brought it to Olympus in spirit (lol). With the help of a demigod, it was manifested and brought forth for their enjoyment. He did enjoy a good scotch. Typically, it brought about a warm and reassuring feeling throughout him that inspired him to determine and discern to increase his understanding of The Charge and what it required of him. Tonight, however, was a different story. And it goes something like this and from here.


    Today¡¯s Counsel had to be adjourned with all matters tabled and pending after a comment made by Ascendant Rhe sparked a heated discussion that was on the verge of making him angry as disputes began to rise on the subject of The Charge pursuant to the unification of Heaven and Earth that they were aspiring to. All they wanted was to go home and be able, once again, to live together under the same roof. They were all family. Rhe said it was too soon for them to say that and especially use that particular word. Last she remembered, but not specifically, the world which she lived in not too long ago, still viewed them as incestuous heretics and ¡°sleazeball¡± Gods by comparison to those they worshiped. They preferred their Gods to be pious and virginal. A little more Jesus like and a lot less ¡°gadabout god¡± type and they would need to dispense with branding themselves the ¡°family friendly¡± answer to ¡°their¡± problems or they would fall like ¡°tin soldiers¡± in record time. They were underestimating how fervent ¡°they¡± were.


    Out of all that, it was the word ¡°fervent¡± that stuck in his head. The other disparaging references were nothing that he hadn¡¯t heard before, but he maintained the belief that this could all be explained and corrected through reasoning. The emphasis she had placed on ¡°fervent¡± unnerved him. If they were fervent to point that they could not be reasoned with in a meaningful, and mindful manner, that changed everything. That was a whole new ballgame that could mean back to the drawing board for them. He had not considered the possibility they could not be reasoned with by Omnipotence. He cursed himself for not considering the very possibility of such. He asked her ¡°does the truth not matter in the face of their fervor?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s truth? Theirs or yours?¡± She asked back.


    ¡°The¡± He responded.


    ¡°No.¡± She said, ¡°Truth is not as important to them as you might think, from what I remember.¡±


    Of course, everything hung in the balance on that. ¡°From what she remembered¡± could not be trusted. Perhaps, if she were a Lordess by now, and her memory could be run through the Omnipotence she would inherit in further ascension, there could be more credit given to her memory. But in her disposition as an Ascendant, her memory served her only so far. The rest was the property of Styx and Styx would not relinquish it without a fight or an offering worthy of the divulgence. He had considered this before. Her actual memories could prove to be very helpful. So would Ambrosia. Both would be tempting Fate. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Always the dilemma. So frustrating. So tiring. So hard to get anything done when it always poses a dilemma as subject to Fate. Unlike their Originators or Elders, this generation of Olympians had to be more wary of tempting Fate. This was the New and Last Golden Age of Humankind on the Record for all they knew. There might not be another. They did not have as much latitude when it came to the Ministry of Fate. Those bitches were by far and above (as below), more fierce and feared by any of their predecessors. This Ministry of Fate pulled no punches and took no prisoners. They were All or nothing.


    He knocked back the rest of his drink and decided to go have a word with Cain. Or, in this case, Khain, because this might require ancient wisdom more than interpretation with respect to The Charge. He preferred talking to Cain, the straightforward Gay God to his liking. Talking to Kahain meant talking in circles.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Forge threw another block of hewn timber onto the fire and looked over at her. She was lost in thought while putting in her steps on that contraption she had insisted he fashion for her to ¡°exercise¡± on, though she hardly needed that anymore. What an ugly addition to the place. An invention that relied on perpetual motion to work insulted him as it felt like a throwback to a former time instead of a ¡°step¡± forward where it could be done for you. But, according to her, it had to be calibrated and ¡°dialed in¡± to her exact needs. He had complied, because he was admittedly curious. He still resented it every time he looked at it. She thought it had form and function. By his determination, it was unnecessary and hideous. Forge knew and hated hideous. He needed no extra reminders of it in his own domain. If it weren¡¯t for her, that monstrosity would not be here. But that brought him around to the same old question. ¡°What to do about her?¡± Especially now that it was obvious, she had become his muse.


    He turned his look away from her, since she was far from noticing it anyways, and glanced around his burgeoning workshop. The Forge had grown in size. The walls were lined with weapons and implements of great workmanship and design. There was something for everybody. To him, this is what work was meant for. To her, working out was life affirming. Which life she was affirming was not known. As an Ascendant, she was still reminiscent of her past while facing an uncertain future. Rhe was in Flux. Nyx safeguarded her in such and maintained that her ascension was of its own accord. No one wanted to argue the case. Or they did, but they thought better than to voice their thoughts. As such, there were limitations in place as suggested by the proper boundaries that made their living together possible. Forge would only go so far with an Ascendant, especially given his inherent deformity. Having taken matters into his own hands to rid himself of it, he had risked enough for his own sake in the Eyes of Fate. He would not take the same chance with any children of his own. He would need a Godhood in impeccable standing in their eyes to spare any children the suffering he had endured and his father had endured. He wasn¡¯t certain he wanted children. The best way to spare them would be not to have them, but that too, might be challenging Fate to decide for him. So he left it open to interpretation while still taking every precaution. Rhe was fine with that, for now. But for how long? She knew to be determined, but not too determined, about anything.


    Still, her remarks in Counsel today landed hard. A little too hard in the lap of the others. While it may have been necessary, it definitely left a mark. ¡°Tin soldiers my ass.¡± He thought to himself and grunted out loud while he grabbed a dagger and flipped it through the air, catching it and testing its weight in his hand.


    ¡°I know.¡± She said behind him. He hadn¡¯t realized she had finished getting in her steps for the day. Sometimes he counted. Sometimes he didn¡¯t, knowing she always did.


    ¡°I fucked up.¡± She continued while she wiped the non-existent sweat from her brow and pits. ¡°I was trying to help. It didn¡¯t come out right.¡±


    She sat and stared at nothing in front of her.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± He assured her half-heartedly. ¡°They needed to hear it. You might have phrased one or two things differently to make it more palatable, but you are not one to mince words.¡±


    She nodded. She wondered if that¡¯s why she was here now. Because she didn¡¯t. She took a slug of water from her bottomless chalice he made her. It was far more awkward than a water bottle, which she would have preferred, but that was a small thing. She tried not to bother with the small things anymore.


    She looked at him carefully, so as not to display anything too uncomfortable for him.


    ¡°For the record, I do not think of anyone here as Tin Soldiers. That is just how the world is. I¡¯ve always been an Olympian in my mind.¡±


    It was as though she could read his mind at times. Scary thought.


    ¡°But you are the exception. Not the Rule.¡± He reminded her.


    ¡°Not necessarily.¡± She said very matter of factly.


    His skin prickled. He knew this sensory reaction he had to her and that tone of voice. She was going to say something he would not be able to forget or dismiss. Again. He tried not to ask but it came out anyway.


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Well it would depend on how many of them ever dreamed of winning a Gold Medal.¡±


    And there it was. An idea came to him. The Alchemist in him understood. The Olympian in him definitely understood. Family only went so far. It did not go far enough. That was what she was trying to say. It would get bogged down in the details. That would make them Tin Soldiers in their fervor. Ripe for the picking off. However, going for the gold is how they saw them still, to this day. They needed to not sell themselves short. He looked over at the other contraption she had insisted on.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± He said. He had learned to like that word a lot, in all its interpretations since she showed up.


    ¡°What¡¯s that now?¡± she asked him slyly.


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± he muttered somewhat angrily. ¡°You didn¡¯t fuck up and you know it. You are on the right track.¡± He pointed at the treadmill she had also insisted on.


    She, on the other hand, did not take her eyes off him. This always made him uncomfortable. He had never liked being looked at directly. His looks displeased him. She did not share his opinion of them. She saw him the way she saw him. He wished he knew what that was but also, did not want to know for his sake. Her gaze lingered. His loins started to stir.


    ¡°Only if it¡¯s the inside track.¡± She said, her voice low while she leaned back.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    In a farther off part of Heaven, a Lord and Savior prepared for his Second Coming.


    Four Men fed their horses on the ills of the world, happily chatting amongst their dark selves. Eventually this would break down and turn ugly as they would begin to argue over who gets what ills for what reason. This marks their descent - into madness.


    A God the Father watched over his children with eyes wide open.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    On Earth, a Saint took flowers to the grave of his long lost girlfriend. He had just been released from prison for manslaughter, because he swore up and down that it had been an accident. In the end, the jury had believed him but the judge, not so sure, gave him the maximum. Two-thirds of his sentence later, thanks to good behavior, he was finally out. But he would never be free.


    Behind him, in the distance, stood an old, lonely man, keeping his well worn eyes on the Saint of Ill Repute. In his frail, elderly hands, he also held flowers - for his long lost daughter. He has a name. Few speak it these days though.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    The River Styx, sensing upheaval, began to churn. Marianas felt the water churn in the depths of her soul. She checked the hourglass, but as of yet, there was nary a sand out of place. Still, she felt time was never more of the Essence than now. She sensed that word changed everything. She had trembled when she first heard it and now, she trembled again just thinking of it. Fervent.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Somewhere, in a farther part of the same Underworld, a Fallen Angel smiled, baring his teeth and biding his time. Fervent indeed.


    .¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Footnote: In a few days, The High Counsel of Heaven was set to Convene.


    Here is what the High Counsel knows so far about what is to come through their limited access to the Rosetta Stone and the understanding required to interpret its contents. This is where the Akashic Records are revealed through.


    There are three paradigms to Existence Over All. The first being Energy, which is enough to start. The second being Ether which is raised. The third being Essence, which is Absolute.


    A Universe starts with the energy that results from a great fusion, (a big bang). This energy evolves from there. It creates, disintegrates, re-emerges, splits, mutates, shrinks, expands, manifests, and eventually unifies under a single point of convergence. From there, it can evolve. To evolve, energy must combine with essence to raise an Ethereal. There is only one way for the First Ethereal to arrive into the parameters of said Universe. Through Serendipity. A happenstance must occur by its own design. This cannot be contrived or known ahead of time. This happenstance is Kismet. Once there is Kismet, and the First Ethereal is arisen, then all can likewise arise. This paradigm will continue until the Ether evolves naturally over time. This is why time is of the Essence.


    Eventually, all Ether will evolve to Essence and this Universe will be Absolute and cannot be destroyed. This is a fixed Universe.


    Energy being God and Mortal alike, are the first to fall or the first to rise. Ethereals are the loveliest of All and Essentials are the Beauty of it All. Essentials, also known as The Aristocrats, travel by the Space/Time continuum to repeat this process exponentially throughout the Vastness. Many Universes don¡¯t make the cut. They end up being few and far between. Every Aristocrat knows the danger they face in their effort to protect the Vastness from becoming The Void. This includes Akasha. Should this Universe fall in on itself and become Void, it will take Akasha with it. Then it becomes part of The Void to be avoided, while searching elsewhere in the Vastness are other Aristocrats seeking to repeat history and learning from the mistakes of others. The hope is, this will all continue. This is why the possibilities must remain endless. You never know what might happen!


    If you think it is easy for me to write this All down and tie it All together, you should know that it has taken me over thirty years and several failed attempts to put this into words that can only somewhat explain it in terms that ordinary people like myself can understand. I¡¯m sure, by now, you know I am part of the story. But what part, even I don¡¯t know. For now, I am just a scribe and it is my job to tell the best story I can.

 Once An Epiphany

    CHAPTER FIVE


    ONCE AN EPIPHANY¡­


    (So the story goes)


    A single word can change everything. It has the power to bring movement to a halt - stop. It has the power to set things in motion - go. A single word can determine the future - charge. Or it can disrupt a process - fervent. Can it shift a paradigm? This is what Cain wondered as he mused on the word. Cain, being a God, understood power by nature, and even more than anyone, the power a single word held at the right time, in the right way. As he sat across from Blaze now, he could see the storm clouds brewing behind the eyes of the God of Glory, and decided now would be a good time to measure his words carefully. If Cain were First Co-Chair of Counsel, he would have let the discussion play out to its conclusion, and issued and edict, and subsequently, a motion, that he knew would have been seconded and voted on favoring him. But he was not First Co-Chair and this was not the first time he had to remind himself of this, He remained present while he mused - so far.


    ¡°The word seemed to carry a lot of weight with her when she spoke. She spoke the word fervently to convey the fervor she explicitly wanted to point out. I believe that was not a conscious act on her part, but neither was it an accident. Rhe is intuitive. More so than she knows.¡± He took a sip of wine from his favorite chalice. He swirled the remainder in the bottom to aerate it and watched a bubble pop and spread crimson foam. The pebble in the pond and the concentric rings resulting came to mind. If ¡°fervent¡± were a pebble, what would be the resulting rings?


    ¡°But is the type of fervor that she speaks of reasonable in any manner?¡± Blaze asked in earnest. ¡°You understand my concern, do you not?¡±


    Cain lifted his eyes and looked directly at the Lord he had sided by his entire existence.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Cain lifted his eyes towards the ceiling. He knew this was going to take some time and his plans for himself for the evening would, likewise, now be disrupted. A small seed of resentment irritated his otherwise calm demeanor. He squashed it mentally, satisfyingly and completely. This was not the time for petty contentions.


    Rivalry. Another single word with extraordinary power among and over Gods. ¡°Shut that shit down right now.¡± He thought.


    ¡°So?¡± Blazed pushed on. He was growing irritated and he knew it. ¡°Goddamn it.¡± He thought to himself.


    ¡°I apologize to you Cain. I do not mean to press. Perhaps this is not the time. I can prolong my audience with Apollo further if needed. We may need to deliberate¡­¡± His voice carried off as he saw the change that took place before his eyes. He had seen it many times before, but every time, it amazed him.


    As Cain, he could take the word in stride. As Khain, it enveloped him. He became one with the word. Not in definition. In the context of how it was uttered. Much to his despair, he could find no reason for it. This ¡°fervent¡± defied reason. He better understood the concern. He followed the word where it led him. Then, suddenly, he stopped short with a jolt and came back to his senses. ¡°Jarring¡± was the word that came to mind in this instant. He swallowed the rest of his drink and topped it off at the same time. Cain visibly shuddered.


    Blaze looked on with concern at what had just transpired in front of him. The manifestation, incomplete, had been quickened and concluded in record time. An uneasy feeling stirred in the pit of his being. Blaze was not familiar with fear up till now. The air between them prickled with the uncertainty. Something was afoot. He had known it the moment he had heard it. Neither knew who should speak first now.


    Cain finally broke the silence. ¡°Brink.¡± He said.


    Blaze stayed quiet. ¡°Let him continue,¡± he told himself. ¡°Don¡¯t push.¡±


    Cain set his goblet down and looked the storm clouds in the eye.


    ¡°It took me to the brink of madness. I had to stop myself. This fervor of which she speaks sits on the brink of madness. One more step, and there is naught but descent.¡±


    This was uncalled for.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Santos stared blankly at the screen in front of him while his sister droned on behind him about all the updates she had implemented in ¡°his absence¡±. She had sounded a little too condescending when she said it, and now she sounded a little too pleased with herself as she brought him up to speed. He stood silently and nodded. Did she think he fell into complete stupidity while he had been locked up? He would have it down pat in no time. Technology was like second nature to him, but AI was new. That whole thing had really taken off while he was on the inside. Still wasn¡¯t rocket science and he knew it was only as smart as the person using it. He wondered, absent-mindedly, when the word ¡°artificial¡± had become a good thing and if that was the best choice of word for the revolution it was meant to be.


    ¡°So, does that make sense?¡± Cadie asked him, satisfied she had done her part to help ease him back into the family business.


    Everyone had been really supportive of him returning to work and were eager to have him back and remind him how lucky he was to still have a job and a roof over his head upon release. Thanks, praise Jesus, to his family. Thanks to them standing by him and believing him and in him etc. etc. Given that he was still under probation for the next three years, and required to report weekly, and his freedom rested on him meeting expectations, he kept his mouth shut about it and complied. He secretly welcomed the elephant in the room that kept everyone quiet about the actual circumstances of his absence. He didn¡¯t want to talk about it anyways.


    Cadie had gotten married to Yusef while he had been incarcerated. There had been some talk of waiting until he got out so he could be there, but he had, of course, encouraged her to go ahead with it, not wanting the government to hold up her happiness because they felt the need to punish him more than life had. Not that he put it that way. He kept those feelings to himself. He did everything he could to appear to be taking accountability while maintaining his innocence with the help of his lawyers. He had been keeping his head down and walking a fine line for what seemed like forever already.


    She, of course, went ahead with the wedding and everything else. While he had not fared too badly on the inside due to his innate charm and ability to read the room, there were incidents and scars. While she got married and popped out two babies already, he practiced out of body experiences and worked in the prison kitchen where his culinary talents won him favor and, eventually, protection. A lot had changed on the outside while he was inside. More had changed on the inside of him while outside, he still looked more the same than different. Older, with shorter hair and a touch of gray coming in, which he hated, but not as worse for wear as they were expecting. He savored that while he looked at the new menu on the screen. There was nothing there he could not cook in his sleep. Nothing about the new system his brother-in-law had recommended he could not manage. Santos had practically been born able to code. He¡¯d show them what this bitch could do once he took back the reins. Oh ya. The old Santos was back. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he nodded in her direction one last time to recognize her authority, at the moment.


    ¡°Makes sense to me. I think I¡¯ve got it. Nice work Cadie. You did a great job keeping this place going while I was away.¡± He told her.


    She smiled, and accepted the compliment because she was always hungry for them.


    So there he was. Back working at the restaurant. Back living at home. At least with Cadence married it was just him and his parents, except when her kids were there. His mom had taken a back seat from Costella¡¯s finally and helped Cadie and Yus with the kids while they worked. It was far from ideal but it would have to do (in the meantime).


    Santos turned to the grill, which he knew immediately, needed to be cleaned. Fuck the system. Clearly, people were slacking off while he was gone.


    ¡°Nobody cleaning the cooktop these days?¡± He asked casually, picking up the scraper and providing evidence to support his statement. He had to assert his rightful place here again as soon as possible. Inside thinking. Inside taught him much.


    ¡°It¡¯s on the closing task list and checked off as done.¡± She offered in defense, weakly.


    He shrugged. ¡°Well, maybe this is their idea of that, but no more. If this is what passes for clean somebody will need a refresher course. Who closed?¡±


    ¡°Devon.¡± She promptly answered. ¡°He¡¯s new here since you¡­¡±


    Santos took advantage of her trailing off to add a touch of charm.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll talk to him and go over everything with him to make sure he does it by the book you went to all the trouble of setting up for them so they don¡¯t even have to think about it. You¡¯ve done so much already. They should appreciate it more.¡± He flashed her a quick smile. That was all she needed. Just a nudge in the right direction. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    A tear started in the corner of her eye. ¡°I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re home Santos.¡± She said, barely above a whisper. She almost leaned in for a hug, but he turned back to the grill.


    ¡°Me too Cadie.¡± He said. ¡°You have no idea how glad I am to be home.¡±


    He half meant it and deliberately did not oversell it.


    ¡°Home sweet home,¡± she said as she headed back into the front of house.


    Santos wanted to throw up. He knew no place was ever going to be home again without her. If one more person reminded him how lucky he was. If one more person said ¡°accidents happen¡±. If one more person told him it was time for him to ¡°get back on the horse¡­¡±


    He purposely did not finish the thought. He finished cleaning instead.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    You know what is another great word, in my opinion? Quiddity. Especially if you like onomatopoeia. Quiddity sounds like what it is. Something special. I know it is a word that is highly underutilized. As a scribe, you sometimes labor over a single word to get your point across and not sound redundant. You will check your Thesaurus or try different versions or ways of saying the same thing. It''s a constant struggle to balance the rhetoric with the verbiage. There are very few words that stand out all on their own for what they say and what they are. And while you wrestle with the limitations of the language available to tell the story of All time, some newbie can come along and spout something off the top of their head that sends everyone into a tailspin. Not that I am jealous or resentful. Even I have to admit, fervent got me going.


    But for the sake of equal time, if nothing else, let¡¯s talk about Quiddity. That one thing that makes you - uniquely you. The reason it is so important is because Quiddity is your drop of Essence. Everyone from Earth to High Heaven has one drop of Essence within them. An overwhelming majority of people go through life without ever knowing their Quiddity. That is to be expected. But it only takes one with one to change everything - All in All. Your Quiddity is your truth. Yours and yours alone that no one else has.


    So imagine trying to drill down on the one thing that makes you - you. Singularly and Singularity you. The one thing about you that has nothing to do with anyone else. The one thing about you that nobody else has to their name. That is the needle in the haystack that Uriel will be judging you on. Well, maybe not you. But someone. If you are right, you win the Right. If you are wrong, you cease to exist. I can believe that so many people go through life never even hearing the word Quiddity, much less considering it. Not because it is underrated or underused. Because it is only really necessary at one point in time for one reason by one person. That is the power of a single word.


    The reason I bring this up now is because I am probably not going to waste a lot of time on revelations about who is or who is not the real deal and what they are up to in the MeanTime. I may only make mere mention of those others who are in Charge Over All. I might throw a line in here or there about so and so, but otherwise, not. If I feel the need to fill in some blanks, I will likely be expedient about it, because there are only so many words to cover the story of Time Immemorial. And at the risk of sounding repetitive, after fervent, and Quiddity, almost everything else at this time is filler. Between fervent and Quiddity, any story can be told. This is just my version of it.


    Will I continue to struggle to find the words? Probably. Will I spend more time than necessary on them? Probably not. I still want it to be a good story though, so I will continue to do my best to tell it to you. (Like Santos would say. Presentation matters.)


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Throughout human history in this world, there has been a shadowy figure lurking on the outskirts of life-altering events. This figure may or may not have shown up in photographs along the way. While never part of the story, this figure has been bearing witness - for the record. This ostensible bystander is not allowed to interfere or influence up to a certain point. He is the watcher. He is Metatron. An earthbound ArchAngel who is here always. He travels through the annals of time. What All he knows is for him and him alone to keep track of. There will come a time when he will be reunited with the Host, but for now, he waits and watches. But like any man, Metatron has had his needs for companionship in passing. And he has left his mark along the way. This is his way to ensure a certain energy level continues to prevail. He has fathered children, and disappeared. Not very gentlemanly of him. Not exactly angelic to say the least. That being said, who among us is in the position to judge Metatron.


    Metatron is one of very few other worldly beings that has access to the Book of Life, The Grotto and can channel the Akashic Records. He is the brain you would like to pick if you had the chance, but who does? His location is unknown, his appearance is ever changing and his presence, while sometimes cloaked on the sidelines, is otherwise, secret. Lately though, Metatron has been following and sticking close to a certain Saint he is determined to keep an eye on. Santos DelFuego. The Saint of Ill Repute also known as The Saint of Fire. He is a prophecy in the Records. And he murdered his daughter. Whether he meant to or not, he accidentally killed her. They called it manslaughter. Such an ugly word. He words it differently. Santos brought about her untimely demise. An untimely demise has allowances that dying in your own time does not. Metatron knows what those allowances are and what she is entitled to as a result of them. An untimely demise can be a life saver. Just like a Saint can be a Sinner, if that is what is needed.


    Right now, he is watching him, close at hand, but distant enough not to be seen or identified. The restaurant looks warm and inviting. Costella¡¯s - named for his parents. Costa and Estella DelFuego. Parents of the twin flames, Santos and Cadence. He longed for a sit down and a good meal but he didn¡¯t dare. He could not get too close to him. Another injury could prove fatal. He must bear in mind, he is still a Saint for this time. One who needs to be redeemed. He watches as the Saint leaves for the day. He follows him back home to his parents through the annals. Following him isn¡¯t that hard, given the restrictions placed on him for his probationary period. Three years due time. That is all that is needed. Once he is satisfied that all is settled for the night, Metatron returns to his own meager surroundings. He heats himself up some leftover stew on his hotplate and takes to his cot to sup. Living an impoverished life is never easy but it provides good cover for him. People tend not to pay too much attention to the poor in this world. There is not much in this world he really wants anyways. There is little that is not tainted by the blood of the ages. So much poisoned fruit. He almost gagged on his meal. He set it aside, having lost his appetite for it, and just about everything else. The only thing that still tasted good to him as he drifted off, was the possibility of vengeance sometime soon. Just before he fell asleep, he took his phone and posted a message. In his hands, the source was untraceable. So much the better.


    Metatron is tired of not interfering. He wants to be done.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    While Metatron slept, Santos sat in front of his laptop. He had scored this one on a cash deal off the internet and had factory reset it. He was logged in under an untraceable URL and was typing with fingers flying. This set up sucked compared to the one he used to have, but that had been seized and subsequently sold at auction. He didn¡¯t worry about anything that was on it, because he knew how to wipe it clean. Which he did regularly. He was searching the dark web furiously for anything he might recognize that would take him to where he wanted to go. He was amazed at how much garbage there was on there now. He wasn¡¯t interested in fetish sites or perv shit. He wasn¡¯t looking for the latest conspiracy theories or other amateur hour dumbassery. He remained vigilant and careful not to click on anything sus. He just scanned and caught up. He did not post or contribute. He was under scrutiny and would be for a while so he had to watch his step. If he knew one thing about online activity, it was better to remain - well - Anonymous.


    Feeling the anxiety creeping up his spine, he logged off, wiped clean and reset his password and locked his device. He then locked his bedroom door, stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed. He slept with the light on. Fitfully, at best and with one eye open. He was alert to every sound - even his own breathing. It went through his mind again. If this could happen to him, it could happen to anybody. He still could not believe this happened to him.


    The nightmare came in the early hours, like it always did. It was never literal, but it was always the same. There was conflict, followed by altercation and then¡­something dire. Things were slippery. Weird things, ugly things. Like blood. Blood is slippery when wet. He wasn¡¯t drunk. He didn¡¯t do it on purpose. He hadn¡¯t even been mad at the time. He had seen something out of the corner of his eye.


    Let¡¯s face it. They were both very opinionated, but that didn¡¯t mean they were fighting. Even in the nightmare, the struggle was against them, not between them. He saw something, he turned to get a better look. He accidentally turned the wheel at the same time. Something had freaked him out. A shadowy figure out of nowhere and then he lost control of everything. It happened so fast. The car lost traction. Something slippery. A light post, a crash, things spinning and then - the scream followed by silence. But the blood was the worst. The blood is always the worst. It got in his eyes.


    He woke up drenched in sweat. Babe! He rubbed his forehead. Scars. There were so many scars inside and out. He pressed his palms hard against his eyes, trying not to cry. He gulped down air and looked around his childhood bedroom. This wasn¡¯t real anymore. Nothing was. He knows he saw something. And that something saw him. That something killed her. That slippery son of a bitch killed the woman he loved. And ruined his life. Santos did not believe in ghosts before this. Now, he didn¡¯t know what or who he believed in. He just knew he would never feel safe again.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    While we are on the subject, the standard safe combination is simple to use. The point is at 0. Twice to the Right past 0 to the First Number. All the way back around past 0 to the Second Number. Then straight to the Third Number. You just have to have the correct numbers and be exact.


    On November 19, 2024 Pluto transits into Aquarius. The point goes from zero to the First Number marking the Dawn of the New Golden Age of Humankind. Then back around past zero into the next year. On July 07, 2025, Uranus transits into Gemini. The Second Number on the combination lock. The Great Disruptor meets the Twins. This energy will carry forward from there until on February 20, 2026, the next Saturn-Neptune conjunction will occur at the 0 degrees Aries point. The Point of No Return. The Third Number. This will open the lock, otherwise known as Heaven¡¯s Gate.


    Beware the Outer Planets. Their influence on All things cannot be understated. For those that do not believe in Astrology, these are still the facts. Between now and February 20, 2026, The Charge is at hand. Find the truth, get the jar, claim the rites of passage (First Rights of Redemption) and travel through the gate to release the hope back into the world for unification. Boom! There you have it. God and mortal alike can coexist once again and then evolve from there. A drop of essence (Quiddity) combined with the energy of a god will bring forth the Ethereal and all will rise from there. (Purely by Happenstance, of course. There being Serendipity in All Things.) Then this will be a fixed universe to stand the test of time. Provided there is a Second Aristocrat. Akasha being the First. It takes two Standing Aristocrats to Affix a Universe in Space/Time for All Time along the continuum. The Axis has two points. The top, and the bottom. But that is many tomorrows problems from here. For now, there is a world to save. Mostly from itself.


    I don¡¯t think I am giving away the whole story here because who is to say this is the only way or the only path forward. After All, it is a gyroscope. There may be many paths forward and others may have their own interpretation of events. Those interpretations may clash. Worlds may collide. Futures might be at stake and you may have your own ideas of what you want forever to look like.


    There can be more than one way to the same result. I am just the scribe of this one. Although, I think once my name was Epiphany and I was an Oracle. Maybe that¡¯s just me.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

 Music to My Ears

    CHAPTER SIX


    MUSIC TO MY EARS


    (And the like)


    Setting aside sabotage - for now, I would like to take the opportunity to dwell on Mount Olympus - obviously. The Mount has a vibration unto itself, but it strikes a chord with all who live there from the top of its peak to the lowest of its vast Underworld, that span known as Tartarus. How it resonates depends upon where you reside. The closer you are to the top, the stronger the connection. This is the residence of the Gods. This carries downward to the Forests of the Mount, which borders Upper Olympus and Olympus Proper. Proper is where the Community of Olympus lives. It is populated by divine mortals, who can live extended lives or die accordingly. Some have been resurrected while others have been born. While humble and rustic in appearance, it has a sophisticated infrastructure and organization that is self governed while remaining under the watchful eyes of the deities. There is a Governor Extraordinaire who is appointed from a roster of candidates put forward by the Community. Each candidate is given equal opportunity and time to debate their case, and the deliberation that follows rests on their word. A determination is made by majority and if there is any dispute, this will be put forward to discernment by Apollo, who is still the God held accountable for their well being.


    Community members and residents work both in the Community and in Upper Olympus. They have thriving businesses, barter and exchange centers of commerce and many social and creative enterprises. No one goes without the necessities required to further their existence. There is no poverty to their name. Crimes do occur and they are dealt with through mediation, arbitration and possible exclusion. Prior to exclusion, everything must have been done to amend first and foremost. Compensation is of the highest priority. There is little prejudice and a plentitude of diversity in individuals and families. There are demigods galore. All can move freely between Upper Olympus and Olympus Proper. Given that Olympus can expand as needed, resources included, borders exist naturally by rivers and trees, but are not imposed between Upper and Proper.


    There are wonderful gathering places in Proper, from the popular wells and fountains, to the Center Square, parks and meditation chambers and festival grounds. There are Community Gardens that include inclusive cooking and feasting facilities. LIfe can be hard, if you make it so, or it can be joyful, regardless of the work needed to live a free, fair and fruitful life. Comfort is held in high regard and there is no need for work/life balance to be instituted, as it is understood. Hearth and Home is a right. Debate is healthy but dispute is to be resolved. Such is the way of the Proper.


    Beyond the Proper is Arcadia. The Far Reaches of Olympus, known for their unspoiled, harmonious wild and less populated lands. These are the rolling hills and valleys that can be homesteaded if desired, but require more effort and self work. Here you will find Zeus and his beloved in their own corner of the world with their garden tended and family farm. This is where excluded members of the Community will be sent to reside if they run afoul. They are then given the opportunity to work their way back up. Mind you, these are for the minor infractions that have caused no irreparable harm.


    Should there be major infractions that can not be resolved through compensation or exclusion, that could lead to the Underworld. As there is Upper Olympus, Proper Olympus and Arcadia, below there are Tarturas, Erebus and the Elysian Fields. As Above, so below - so the story goes.


    Mount Olympus and its lesser mounts alongside it, sit like a testament to the Eternal Flame best represented by it. From its highest point to its lush firmament to the far reaches, Olympus shines like a beacon in the sky. The foundation is firmly rooted in time and it is supported by an Underworld that acts like an anchor to support its efforts ongoing. The Sea of Olympus rides the eastern shore where the sun always rises down to the far reaches. The west of Olympus is the boundary to the Other Side of the Mountain. There is the Gateway to The InBetween. It remains steadfastly locked and can only be opened by a reigning Lord/esses for good reason. There must be true intent and purpose for traipsing beyond the Gateway. Then there is the Dark Side of Olympus. Behind the Mount you will find the Graveyard of the Gods. Their Cemetery is extremely private and seldom visited or spoken of.


    Upper Olympus is not as showy as you might think. It is not lavish or embellished in all manner of gilded, garishness. Upper Olympus would best be described as Aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Each home is symbolic of the resident and they all compliment each other while being individual unto themselves. There are minimalist and contemporary abodes. There are sprawling Ranch Style domains with flourishing surroundings. There are entire dwellings in the trees with bridges and swings to connect them. There are marble columned palaces higher up where the Elders and such still prefer their traditional architecture, but the Lord/esses tastes have changed and they have adopted newer and more relevant designs to their liking. As disjointed as it may sound, somehow it all works together in harmony.


    Higher up, past the residences and before the peak, there is a perch. An out jutting cliff that offers a full view of Olympus in the eyes of a God. Behind, and to the left is a low, sprawling round top building bathed in sunlight. This is where Gods come to meditate. Inside the wall is an enveloping softness that feels like a pillowy cloud you can walk through and sit upon or lie down in. They call this The Dome. Some go there to get away from it all, or seek privacy for their trysts. It is sexy and seductive and known to lull you into an altered state. Beware the Dome though. Going in is easy. Leaving is the hardest part. Knowing duty calls will haunt you otherwise. Ah, the Dome. The vacation destination of the Gods. But Blaze was not there for a vacation or tryst. Not today. Today, he stood on the perch, overlooking Olympus. He was not meditating. He was surveying. Sabotage was afoot.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    While Blaze surveyed, Metatron did something entirely different, but for the same reason. He sat hunched on the bathroom floor, his head between his knees with his arms wrapped around it. He was bemoaning the corrosion of the mortal coil. Aching, he felt it all the way through his disintegrating bones. Slowly, but surely, they were wasting away inside of him. He knew he did not have long. That was his choice. He made it and would make it again. Ever since he realized something untoward was happening and something ungodly was in play, he knew that he would do what he did. He would bring about the untimely demise of his sole surviving scion. He would not stand idly by and watch the corruption affect her. Even if it meant his own demoralization. Even if somebody else were blamed and had to take the fall alongside him. If that someone loved her, like he said he did, then he would have done the same. He would not let the world tarnish her spirit. Theirs were expendable. Hers was not. She was such an angel.


    He did not know the cause of the corrosion. He could not trace the source of contention. Something had decided that nothing and no one was worth saving. Who could make such a decision? Who in their right mind? Certainly, not Akasha, he hoped as best he could. This was not an evil he was familiar with, and Metatron was familiar with evil. This was not an ill. This was madness.


    He raised his head, brushed back his thinning hair and closed his eyes to recall the day. The world had been triggered and took a turn for the worse in a fatal direction. They had let lies rule over truth. They had cheered deviance over goodness. They had let their desire for stupidity override their ability for good judgment. They had let themselves down. This was unfathomable in this day and age where everything you needed to know to rise to the occasion of the new day dawning was available in as many ways as you could look to find it. The majority had chosen not to look to find it. They had chosen to ignore it in selfish ignorance for the sake of cruelty by law. He had seen this kind of cruelty before and the holocaustic results of that disdain, but this was different. This was sanctioned. And this was spreading. This was becoming a global phenomenon. Unprecedented hatred had become the order of the day. An underlying force had triggered a mass insecurity among earth¡¯s inhabitants that was causing them to rally together in visceral anger and aggression that was hurtling them towards an end of humanity. While time for change was ripe, the damage may have already been done. Creeping in alongside were the fanatical, the rapturous idiots who believed while they compromised everything they believed and still believed they would be raptured. How is that anything but madness?


    He rubbed his tired eyes, and shook his old and weary head. At least she was safe elsewhere. Preserved, you might say. The accident had been brutal. He almost threw up at the memory of her bloody corpse being pulled from the wreckage. Her soul sought safety in a path forward and she still had her wings, albeit, internally only. They may never come to the surface, but they would always be there to guide her. He had made certain of that. Now, the Saint was free of sorts, and his was the uncertain path that could make the difference. His was the next choice that mattered. Will he fall, or will he rise? Much was being asked of Santos that he did not know and Metatron was banking on her belief in him as a worthwhile human being to be the deciding factor. Was she blinded by love and a winning smile, or was she on the mark? Everything dark and dismal was converging into an abysmal energy that would suck everyone and everything in and down with it as the Universe imploded into Nothingness. There was still time. But it was growing shorter. There were still chances. But they were becoming few and far between. Absolute power corrupts absolutely and that is what they are seeking with a vengeance. The ingrates.


    Metatron rued the very idea of going out there today. Longing to just go back to bed and continue to waste away, he was alerted by a notification on his phone. Knowing how few those were, given his engagement policy, he reached for it and turned it on. He opened it and clicked on the notice. This post was different. This one resonated with him. This one struck a chord. There was a new call to action. The source was Anonymous. The message was clear. The fight was not over. The battle was lost but the war was just beginning. The upside of the dark web was drastically underrated by the techno giants of industry who were part of the prevailing stupidity they thought they were all smarter than. While the blind were leading the blind, the awakening was going full steam ahead. You can argue with the woke all you want. It is the rise and shine you need to worry about.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    When Nyxana is overcome with a bout of restlessness, which is not often, she is inclined to seek solitude of her own desire. Sometimes the company of women has its limits, being too familiar, and the company of men just leaves her wanting, well, more women or women more. Then she finds herself bored with both and lacking inspiration. This is when she will, by choice and for good reason, traipse past the Gateway to the InBetween to sit by the Rainbow Bridge and marvel at the instincts of animals making their own way home. She pack herself a lunch of sorts in a basket, and take to her invisible hillside there and sit on the bank to watch the parade that goes both ways. Nyx loves animals. Especially dogs. Everything from the smiles on their faces to the flapping of their ears to the breathless anticipation of acceptance either way. Dogs are unconditional love cloaked in fur and fearless loyalty. They ¡°bound¡± across in all their various breeds, colors and sizes. It is not her jurisdiction to know or decide their lives on either side of the bridge. The bridge is her personal responsibility to herself to keep watch over.


    The Rainbow Bridge is not a fixed fixture. But it has form and substance, made of planks of all the hues of the rainbow joined together by light and love. Just not human love. Nature¡¯s Love makes it possible. It was formed from the sky and given its own place inbetween to connect animals far and wide to the heavens and earth. Their lack of cognition and their trust in their own instincts is what guides them. Over the years, the bridge has seen a decline in crossings. Natural Selection has replaced Nature¡¯s Love and animals have gone more into the recycling bin of life than crossed home and been redirected. Nyx has no problem with Natural Selection running its due course as long as the bridge remains for all creatures great and small who want to go home one way or the other.


    While she watched in peace, licking cake crumbs from her fingers and smiling at a pretty pup sprinting towards home, something caught her attention about the bridge. While everything appeared to be normal, and nothing out of place, something did seem to be amiss. The colors were a slight shade duller than she remembered. Like someone or something had dimmed them just a little so as not to be noticed by the untrained eye. But Nyx had trained her eye on this bridge many a time and nobody appreciated rainbows quite as she did. No one. She rose to take a closer look. She tested the atmosphere around her to see if that was what was affecting the brilliance of the bridge. Nothing registered as any different. Not wanting to get too close as to interfere with the crossing over process, she heightened her gaze and looked closer into the bridge. She predicted her vision across it, through it and underneath it, where, to her horror, she saw in utter disgust, the reason. She backed away in response and turned her head to release her vision and clear her mind. Once cleared, an infuriation the likes of which was uncommon to her, took hold of her and had she been blood and bone, her blood would be boiling right now in response to a bone-chilling revelation.


    The entire bottom of her beloved bridge was covered in locust larvae. Covered and crawling with them. They were feeding on the energy of the bridge and growing off it to become a swarm of epic proportions. This was a plague. The InBetween was an open jurisdiction and free for All. But this was a bridge too far.


    Nyx steadied herself and thought of the trusting nature of the animals who ventured forth and fro and did her best to weigh her options for recourse. She could not destroy the bridge. That would devastate her. The Rainbow Bridge had to be there. That was all there was to it in her mind. She needed to protect them though. She was able, even in her fury, to discern they were in no immediate danger. The thought of them being in such close proximity to this plague incited her further though. She had to protect the bridge and the animals while ridding it of the pestilence of disgusting larvae. Who would do such a thing? This was very low. Very low indeed. Her mind immediately turned to Marianas for the help she needed. They want to go that low. There is only one Lordess who can show them the depths to which they will truly sink for such depravity. She called out for her Lordess friend in kind and in keeping with, but more importantly, in kinship with. She tried not to think of the maggots as it turned her, while she awaited a response. Creepy, crawly things were her least favorite.


    Marianas knew something was off. It wasn¡¯t in the sand though. It was in Nyx¡¯s voice and she sped through the Gateway without attracting any unnecessary attention or questions. It was not often Nyx called on her or anyone in such anguish. This was more than amiss. This was deeply troublesome. As fast as the speed of light would take her she went and appeared alongside her Goddess in kinship. She felt the rage and a tinge of fear intertwined with the heat. She had never seen Nyx in such a state as this. She put her cool hand to the forehead of the Lordess in great distress to calm her and see within her for herself to keep her from voicing her concern. Upon seeing the reason, Marianas, who was far more used to low level creatures, took the worst of the sight of it from Nyx for her own keeping, and turned to the bridge.


    ¡°Well Damn.¡± Marnie remarked in her calmest of voices. ¡°That¡¯s not cool.¡±


    Marnie had a knack for being understated at the right or wrong time. Nyx was not sure which was the case here.


    ¡°What¡­¡± Nyx¡¯s question trailed off as she could see Marnie was deep in thought. Marnie stepped away and began to pace and appeared to be talking in spirit while fiddling with and fixing her hair. Nyx knew better than to grow impatient. She remained stoic while waiting for her friend to finish whatever conversation she was having. Finally, after what seemed infinite to Nyx, Marnie turned and walked back towards her.


    ¡°Can you stave the flow of traffic to and for the time needed to remove them?¡±


    Nyx looked back towards the bridge, determined to ignore the maggots.


    ¡°How long? The disruption in time and process could unnecessarily stress them.¡±


    Marnie seemed to be calculating in her head. ¡°It won¡¯t.¡± She seemed certain. ¡°They will be redirected in record time.¡±


    Nyx relied on her confidence because it was all she could think of to do. Marnie had a way about her that you could not dispute.


    ¡°Will do.¡± She responded. ¡°Just say when.¡± She did not ask for details, deciding instead to trust in her own instincts and Marnie¡¯s judgement. Female empowerment at its peak, could move mountains. She leaned into it.


    Nyx held her hands up in readiness, directing one to either side of her beloved bridge, and waited. Marnie watched as a couple of stragglers made their way across. She thought of them as strays, while to Nyx, they were blessings. Oh well, to each their own.


    ¡°Stop the entrance left now before any others come through and then stop the entrance right after that last one crosses.¡± She stated unequivocally.


    Nyx stopped the flow one way. Then the other.


    Marnie stood still and opened her mouth wide. From the depths of her soul, a song rang out. She channeled the Song of the Sirens. Nyx suddenly knew who she had been speaking with. The song filled the air around them. Even Nyx was mesmerized by it but held fast her place and her hands. Out from underneath they came. Nyx wanted to hurl at the sight, but contained herself. Marnie took to the air, never releasing her sight or her hold on them while she sang out. She began to retreat and they followed her, entranced. She pulled them away in a wave of wriggling, grey-white mass exodus. Gross and yet, somehow, enchanting. They pitched and crested and fell off and pitched again while they took to the sky and she sang them into a stupor - her following. She gestured to Nyx when she knew she had roped them all in. Nyx opened the bridge for crossing and followed along behind the mollified larvae.


    They took the long way around the boundary of Olympus till they reached the sea at its furthest point. The music emanating from Marnie would prove to be a distraction if it entered into Olympus. She began to spin in the air while she continued to channel the Siren¡¯s Song for her captive audience. Beneath her, a whirlpool formed and grew larger and more menacing. Without skipping a beat, Marnie dropped down to the edge of it, pulling them forward and into it. Smiling and singing the entire time. Nyx watched as an eerie feeling of relief crept over her. Marnie drowned every last one of them to her satisfaction. Then she flushed them down the drain to the deepest recesses of the sea never to be seen again, except in Nyx¡¯s dreams.


    There was a moment of silent respect between them as they looked at the whitecap that formed and flowed back into the ocean. They realized then, they made quite a team. They filed that realization away for future reference. They were now in sync. This was only a union in spirit of course, since their preferences were worlds apart.


    ¡°Gratitude to those who conceived of us.¡± Nyx whispered.


    Aphrodite and Hermes had always been great friends. Their legacy has taken hold and continues.


    Marnie gave recognition untold to the Siren¡¯s and together, hand in hand, they went back to check on the Rainbow Bridge. It shone brighter than ever.


    They agreed they would need to call and Convene a Counsel to disclose and discuss the circumstances. They both felt this marked a turning point in time. This infestation had left a rotten taste in their mouths for a time. Nothing a couple of glasses of wine would not diminish, but enough to warrant serious consideration. Couched and comfortable with a slight wine glow enhancing their demeanors, they finally spoke the truth. This was of grave concern. Grave concern indeed. Being caught up in the moment and determined to resolve the matter at hand, there was no time to delve deeper into the nature of this incident. But it defied the nature of things as they knew them. This was an Unnatural Undertaking.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Blaze knew a problem when he heard it and he definitely heard it in the voice of Nyx. Nyx had hardly ever Convened a Counsel. He set his drink down on the table and ran his hands through his hair. He nodded to himself while he looked around his humble dwelling. Well, humble in his opinion. It was, in fact, a sprawling ranch style home on a wide berth surrounded by natural growth and had a backyard hot spring and swimming pond. While, again, not lavish, it was tailored and maintained to his specific taste. Right now, it gave him no peace of mind or self satisfaction whatsoever. They were all beginning to realize there was an undercurrent of uncertainty and a growing distrust in what they had believed up till now. Blaze knew he would have to turn to Rhe for insight. She had brought it to the surface and given it legs with her revelation.


    Rhe called it Fervent.


    Blaze called it Sabotage.


    Metatron called it Corrosion of the Mortal Coil


    Nyx called it Infestation


    Marnie sat, comforted in her plush surroundings, singing to herself. She seemed to be the only one ready for it. Whatever it was, didn¡¯t matter to her. That was semantics. Slightly drunk on wine and maybe, her own power, she strummed a lyre and struck a chord. Turning points go both ways.


    In the middle of ordering his third coffee for the day, Metatron suddenly shuddered and shivered, in a good way.


    ¡°Oh happy day¡­¡±


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

 History Repeating Part 2

    CHAPTER SEVEN


    History Repeating Part 2


    And All Ways Remember


    (There is still that which is to be)


    Do you really think Zeus still sits on his Golden Throne, wearing his almighty Aegis and wielding his bolt of lightning according to his discernment?


    Zeus watched the whole thing unfold from his position. Sitting on a grassy knoll, beneath his favorite tree, he went unnoticed while the parade in the sky above flew by him with Marianas at the head of the snake and Nyxana as the tailwind that propelled the entirety of it forward. The view from his vantage point was quite mesmerizing. He appreciated the grace with which they carried out their mission. He nodded to himself as the whirlpool formed and did have a moment of despondency at the very idea that they were completely oblivious to him throughout. He knew he should appreciate the concentration and focus they exhibited in their effort to dispose of this perceived threat, but he still was the same old Zeus.


    The thought occurred to him that the collection of maggots looked like a human brain unravelling before his very eyes. Something deep stirred within him at this thought. It had a deeper meaning. He pulled himself up and sighed, as he stroked his magnificent beard and reached for his walking stick. He leaned heavily into the timber he had hewn and carved with his own hands, and, as the Lordesses disappeared from view, he stepped out from under the boughs of the Ash, and looked towards the now empty sky, save for the streaming nimbus clouds and glaring sun. The azure skies above Olympus were still his trademark. Zeus was and would always very much be his own brand of God.


    No one can connect the dots quite like the Old Man. He knew, immediately, the time for talking was nearing its end. The time for action was at hand. He might need to light a fire under Blaze to instigate the difference. He knew his own impulsivity had led to his retiring, and he had since become more measured in his approach, but his need to be spurred on was still his nature. While he appreciated that Blaze was careful and considerate and made for a respectable lead chair for the sake of Olympus on High and its preservation above All, a call to arms was written in the stars and could not be ignored. He walked back towards his compound and contemplated the spark he would settle on to move things forward at the next Counsel, he knew was being convened while he strolled towards home and sup.


    Fortunately, he had an in on Counsel. He was, after all, not one to go quietly. As SOZ, he would, as his own Heir Apparent, bring the required matchstick to the funeral pyre he had been building in his mind for over two millenia now. Vengeance was at hand and vengeance would be his. Zeus had a bone to pick - still. And he was determined to pick it clean.


    ¡°Fucking Prometheus and the one that got away.¡±


    He wanted to inscribe it in the heart of hearts of Olympus. The depth to which she had betrayed him still stung. While he was far from undeserving of her ire, the fact that she would turn her back on Olympus and use it to exact her revenge, by raising up his rival to Godhood, and setting out to turn all mankind against them was beyond the pale. While he still loved her and rued the day that became the truth he could not escape, there could be no mercy for her deception. The fact that Hera was the spitting image of Kronus and took after him to her detriment, was always the source of contention between them. There had been fewer choices between them back then among the conceptions available. She was and remained the most beautiful and powerful of the Original Olympians, but, also, the most devious and underhanded. The very aspect of her nature that drew him to her. The very aspects of her nature that drove them apart.


    And while he cursed her and himself for ever loving her, he reminded himself that ultimately, he wanted to restore her to rightful place and spare Prometheus a permanent resolution. Prometheus, he wanted in Tartarus where he could forever keep a watchful eye over him. This man was never meant to be a God. He was destined to be a leader of and among man. They were designed and inspired to be rivals for the benefit of All. Now, dearly departed and her weapons and wiles, sought to keep them removed from Humankind for All Time and Space between them. The dichotomy had been compromised.


    As SOZ, Zeus, who understood omnipotence and omnipresence better than any other divine being, remained integral to the process of reunification for one main purpose over All. There could be no Olympus going forward without Hera at the helm in her original position. Many disagreed. He ¡°knew¡± otherwise. She was the Original Feminine Divine that created the Olympus they all resided and relied on to this day. She was the touchstone.


    Having two completely different and ongoing identities and relationships was no real challenge for Zeus Almighty. Keeping everyone else unaware of it was the tricky part. Trying not to tempt Fate during the course of them was the prerequisite that everything relied on. He walked a very fine line these days. A very fine line indeed.


    Anyone who thought Zeus was ever going to actually retire was only fooling themselves. Anyone who really wanted him to, was sadly mistaken.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Santos took a kitchen towel off the top of the pile, ran it under the cold tap, wrung it out, unfolded it, and draped it over his face. He tipped his head back and let the cool comfort of it sit for a minute until it started to feel suffocating. He pulled it off and chucked it into the laundry bin. He looked around at the line that was finally caught up for the night and let them do their thing. They could finish up the last of the orders and clean up. He was done in. Getting back into a routine was taking longer than he thought it would. He took off the chef coat he wore for appearances sake, and threw it in the laundry bin as well. He grabbed his hoodie off the hook by the back door to the kitchen, and stepped out into the mild night air, reached into the kangaroo pocket and took out a pack of smokes and lighter. He went over to the staff table by the corner, kicked a cigarette from the pack, put it to his generous lips, and lit up. He sat down while he inhaled, and looking skyward, he breathed out a stream of smoke. Leaning back, his arms draping off to his side, he thought about his PO appointment earlier that day. He would be the first to admit that he had issues. But not to some peon appointed and duly anointed by the so called justice system. He had better resources than they did.


    Putting the dart out in the ash can, he took his phone out of his back pocket, and scrolled some useless crap for any signs of disruption. Nothing. He knew it took awhile for things to bubble up to the surface. There were so many layers of disinformation and propaganda and self-indulgent shit to wade through before anything meaningful caught on. He wouldn¡¯t delve any further right now. Certainly, not on his phone. He had reworked some of the AI programs Cadie had installed to refine and optimize them to their needs and updated firewalls and installed a better VPN and Virus Protection. He did not trust the AI coding and preferred to do it himself still. Once the kitchen and front end staff were done and clocked out, he would jump online for a bit, before heading home. The work laptop was better than his own. He needed to amp up the latest initiative for the collective.


    He put on his hoodie and longed for a cold beer, but he was not allowed to drink on the job. Santos rubbed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He plunged his hands into the hoodie pocket and let the rage inside of him dissipate. None of that mattered. He got screwed by the system. It was that very system he was determined to upend. Santos was a chef by trade and a hacker by choice. He was still amazed after everything he¡¯d done that he went down for involuntary manslaughter. The irony was palpable. He gamed his way into the deeper recesses of the internet and streamed himself into a rabbit hole of anarchists and other disenfranchised fringe dwellers that liked to stir shit up. He was back at his old stomping grounds and he knew it was risky, but it was the only thing that mattered anymore. He was what they made him now.


    These days though, his screen time was limited and he was not allowed to game online or stream. Thanks to the courts. He had killed at World of Warcraft and damn if they hadn¡¯t used that against him. He still couldn¡¯t believe his court appointed lawyer had let them introduce that into evidence. The whole idea that violence begets violence. The Crown had expert witness testimony to back up the claims. Bullshit testimony in his opinion. The gaming was just a means to an end. An extra revenue stream to support his real job as he saw it. Bringing down the house of cards that money built on shaky ground. He was part of it on the inside. He still had his crypto wallet that they had never found and he was still set up. And he was still putting his money where his mouth was.


    For now, he was spearheading a new campaign along with others to raise the consciousness of disruption. They were always trying to level the playing field one way or another. A petition had begun circulating globally, throughout the free world and was gaining traction in some areas, but had yet to breakthrough mainstream. Well, thought out and properly navigated, it was a simple enough idea whose time had come. If you want to solve all the world''s economic injustices and discrepancies and have enough leftover to fix the planet and strengthen the social fabric of society, you only had to do one thing. Tax all the churches. If they run themselves like businesses, which they do, then they should have to contribute their fair share. Moreover, Santos wanted them to pay and pay big, not just for his sake, but for their crimes against humanity. This effort was years in the making and highly organized. They had run the numbers. They crunched all the math. They put the bottom line online. They had drawn all the side by side comparisons structurally, and drawn up new tax codes for free world distribution. The results were staggering. The difference would be astronomical. Getting it moving was slow going. But where there was a will, there was a way. There was some political will. There were even darker forces at work that snuffed out those kinds of movements. But you could never shut down all the chatter. People do love to talk.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He checked the time on his phone and went back in to finish closing for the day. He made sure to whistle on his way in to make it look like everything was as better as everybody wanted it to be with him so he could be a success story for reform. This was nothing new for him. He had always been more enigmatic than anybody realized. Enigmatic was putting it nicely. Even the love of his life didn¡¯t know his deepest secrets. He was sure she wouldn¡¯t want to know the man behind the mask. Also, he had kept it that way for her own protection, until that failed at his own hands.


    He inspected the cooktop, ran his finger across it and nodded at how clean it was. Sometimes, you just have to put the fear of God into some people to get them going. Unless you don¡¯t believe in God. Like Santos. Then you quietly stoke the fires of discontent and wait for the controlled burn to do its work. One day, the inferno will rise. Anonymous forces would go scorched earth on the system, even if they had to shut it all down to do it. And he would use the opportunity to erase his name, face, data and even his fingerprints from everywhere and everything. That was his failsafe, written, locked and loaded. Till then, he had to appear to be towing the line. For some, patience was a virtue. For Santos, it was his weapon of choice.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Nobody understood the razor¡¯s edge quite like Myka. As the First of the Fates, he was a constant reminder that one wrong step changes everything. And he should know. Myka was the judge of that.


    These days, the Fates were known as The Judge, The Jurisprudence, and The Executioner. Or Myka, Pru and Calliope. Myka prefers graffiti to weaving, Pru will wander the Underworld, seemingly aimlessly, but always measuring the breadth and scope of every occasion of one¡¯s destiny, and Calliope is conclusive. The proverbial curtain Call of Fate. She is the final act. They work in tandem while remaining autonomous and independent of each other. Rarely, if ever, seen together, theirs is a trifecta that determines one¡¯s Fate from one¡¯s Destiny. Destiny can make the difference. Fate is just pushing your luck. You are called or you are not. If you are not, you are reacting. If you are, you are acting. Fate results in Karma. Destiny results in transcendence. Quiddity helps you discern the direction. If you are living your truth, you should never need the Fates. They prefer it that way. However, if you are not, and you make them have to work on you behalf, they exact a toll. They are there to hold up your Destiny no matter what. Not to do your dirty work for you.


    The worst thing you can do to attract their attention is to say ¡°Never¡± unless you really mean it. Throw that word around at your own risk. Myka¡¯s ears will perk up at the sound of it. Then he will begin to tag the walls of the Underworld in your name, and you have entered into a manifest destiny. Of course, you can always back out of it. You are allowed to self correct course and carry on. Sometimes, never is needed. Setting your boundaries is important. There are plenty of things you should never want to do. The most important thing you should never want to do is tempt fate. But also, their lives would be no fun at all if nobody did that.


    Myka was currently stepping back to survey his latest work. His Graffiti was a tapestry beneath the surface that defied explanation. Only he really understood it. He was once a child of Hecate. Now he was the master of his own Destiny. So far, he liked what he saw, considering the source. Unbiased, uninhibited and unabashedly bold, this piece represented a twist of Fate that could turn back around and bit you in the ass or prove to be transformative. He judged it to be sufficient for now. He ran his hands through his luxurious hair and dispensed of his supplies for now. Somewhere off in the distance, he could sense Pru coming this way, and he headed further down the tunnel towards the river. Styx was everywhere in the Underworld.


    Her banks were rocky and gritty. She ebbed and flowed at her own discretion and she had a mesmerizing effect on the soul. He liked to wander alongside her and pick up clever little rocks that appealed to him. He had quite a collection. He sometimes fused them into his artwork for emphasis. These were pieces of soul, memories hardened over time and discarded by her to make room for more. They were unusable by this point. He saw one such offering that caught his attention, and he went towards it to retrieve it, as it was closer to the water''s edge. He crouched down to pick it up when something in the water turned his head. He peered. Something just beneath the surface. A silvery presence that captured his attention. However, even he knew not to go too close to the edge. He grounded himself in the grit and focused instead. There it was again. You would think it was a fist at first glance, but no fish live in The Styx. He traced the edges of it and compared it to what might exist like this as a memory. The glistening transfixed him. He wanted to retrieve it but would not venture further. He set his ass down firmly and considered the thing instead. He surmised that it looked like a cocoon with something inside that shimmered and shivered uncontrollably- like wings. Perhaps, a lure.


    ¡°That¡¯s that.¡± He thought as he got up and, tossing his stone in the air and catching it deftly, he walked away.


    There was nothing he could do about it. They belonged to her.


    ¡°Oh Styx, you are a wicked bitch sometimes.¡± He sang to her as he strolled off in the opposite direction.


    Styx smiled her own knowing smile in agreement and approval. ¡°Myka never takes the bait,¡± she thought, and immediately qualified, ¡°and with any luck he never will.¡± She loved him, even though she knew theirs was a rocky relationship at best.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Rhe watched as Forge poured the liquid, molten gold into the cast he had made. This was his third attempt to create the desired medal. The first two were fine but not excellent. Forge wanted excellence. They had to look like what they needed to represent. She leaned against the cold stone of the archway into the forge and watched his muscles bulge and strain as he worked. While he was quick to dismiss his looks as unfortunate, they very much appealed to her. They harbored a deep and introspective soul that was very hard on itself. Something about that felt familiar to her. Forge made her feel at home.


    He was working tirelessly to have something he could take to Counsel that would turn her words from turmoil into inspiration. She was far less worried about that than he was. To her, tomorrow was just another day. But if it spurred him on, then so be it. He was happier when he was working away at something than he was any other time. She turned and went back into their living quarters. She still had her own room, but every now and then, the lines between them blurred and they took comfort in each other¡¯s company. How it never got complicated, she did not know. Because Forge was definitely complicated. She grabbed some grapes from a dish and began to absentmindedly pop them in her mouth. They were plump and sweet and refreshing. She stared out a far off window and let her mind drift. She stood there silent, contemplating the gold. It wasn¡¯t setting quite right. Too soft and it bent easily. Too hard and it looked dull instead of shiny. It needed something to harden it and still brighten it. She dropped the grapes back into the bowl, half-eaten and turned back around. He would hate that but she would deal with it later.


    ¡°Forge.¡± She interrupted him. He had his bellows in this hand stoking the fire. He turned to her with a slight grimace on his face at the intrusion.


    He went to speak but she spearheaded him with a revelation. They were on the right track but something was missing.


    ¡°It needs platinum. To make it harder and more brilliant. The gold isn¡¯t enough for what we need it for. We need to up our game. All the way around. We are settling on gold. We need to be striving for better than gold. We have to bring on the platinum. Pump up the volume. Next level shit.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t certain what all her words meant at times, but he could always get the gist of them. For Alchemists, lead to gold or Iron Age to Golden Age had always been the standard. The quest, the goal and the desired result. She was pushing the edges of the mythical envelope further to give them the upper hand. Gold is what was expected. Ethereal is what was to come. Platinum was the future.


    Forge threw everything he had accomplished thus far out. He swept it all away. Cleared his space completely. Together, they had just hit on something.


    ¡°Do we mix them together or do we combine them into a single piece?¡± He pondered out loud.


    ¡°If you mix them, you get white gold. I think we still need the Gold of Gold but surrounded by the strength and resilience of platinum like protection. What if platinum was the framework and structure, and gold the inlay?¡±


    She could tell by the look in his eyes that this excited him, and that gave her a tinge of happiness. She liked how she could uplift him. It gave her a sense of purpose that made up for the less succinct aspects of their fraught relationship. He set about to design, when there was a knock at the door. Then a scowl came across his face and his brow furrowed once again. He knew who it was while she did not.


    On the other side of the door Blaze stood waiting. Apollo had just ripped him another one for not reporting in with High Counsel pending. Blaze tried to explain they were convening tomorrow for good reason but that had done little to quell his ¡°overlord¡¯s¡± frustration. Apollo had the opposite effect on Blaze¡¯s temper than anybody else did. It was lost on him. He had become desensitized to it over time. Blaze shrugged it off and appealed to Polly for assistance, once again. He needed to speak to Rhe before the Counsel gathered. Her memory may be gone but her intuition was more pronounced a sense as a result. If Khain was right, and fervent was on the brink of madness, he needed to know what the tipping point might be and what the best possible response other that reason would be. He felt instinctively she had a better read on this. Little did he know that they were already way ahead of him. He was most surprised when Forge thrust open the door and gave him a stone cold look.


    ¡°Took you long enough to show up here. Apology accepted on her behalf. We have work to do.¡±


    Blaze cast his eyes towards heaven and shook his head. He was in no mood to argue.


    ¡°Is she here?¡± He asked politely, being a guest.


    ¡°She is and remains so.¡± He ushered Blaze in.


    Rhe was cleaning up the fruit bowl, removing the grapes from the stem and placing them one by one inside. She looked up at him and immediately felt that familiar tug to something beyond her understanding at this time. Blaze was greatness in the making. She was a work in progress. And, as always, something was missing.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

 Once a Menace

    CHAPTER EIGHT


    ONCE AN MENACE¡­


    (Always a catch)


    After her second divorce in four years, Cassidy buried the girl she was growing up that dreamed of being a wife and mother. She was past due for that now. At thirty-nine, and technically barren and after rounds of IVF and a growing sense of futility and despair, she gave up the fight. She had been on a hormonal roller coaster for years and only had a few left before menopause took hold. She did not want to waste any more of them on the same old, same old ups and downs. The vicious cycle of working to afford treatment and hopefully a family, followed by the disappointment and the impending conversations about ¡°trying again¡± took their final toll the day she signed on the bottom line of her last divorce agreement. Cassie did not even wait for the ink to dry before she cashed in all her remaining retirement and investment benefits and booked a cruise. Enough of being the practical, level headed daughter her mother had insisted upon. Enough of being the conscientious wife and reliable, industrious employee working towards the office with her name on it. Enough of being the trusted friend everyone could count on whether they returned the favor or not. Cassie went on a shopping spree for sexy sundresses and  short shorts. Two days later, she headed for the airport and from there, the Greek Isles.


    While on a stopover on Mykonos, she met an international man of mystery named Atem. She never made it back to the ship. She cancelled the rest of her cruise and spent the next three days in the throes of passion. Casting caution to the wind, she took up with a complete stranger and expended every ounce of pent up energy she had been keeping inside while trying to fit the mold of acceptance and success. The sex was secondary for her. The utter abandon was the point. He indulged her every whim in bed. The hotel room was extravagant, the food was ordered in and they only left long enough for housekeeping to change the sheets. He would go catch up on some work and she would access the spa on his credit card. She wondered why a man like that would choose her to spoil, but she ignored the obvious and chalked it up to ¡°no questions asked and no strings attached¡±.


    On the morning of the fourth day, she awoke to seeing him fully dressed and standing over her with a look of resignation on his beautiful face. She understood immediately that this had run its course for him. He had obligations. She did not. It was a short and sweet, slightly bitter goodbye. Check out was at eleven. They went their separate ways and their ships passed in the day. Once outside the hotel, she climbed in a cab and went straight to the airport, took a connecting flight to Athens and headed home. She had never felt more or less alone. She had tried not to expect anything from him, but it had been very difficult. She was hard wired from birth to be loved or lost. Once, safely back home and in the new, one bedroom apartment that was all she needed, she burst into tears. She wanted to die. Her long awaited flight of fancy behind her, the familiar shame and embarrassment had kicked in and feeling the fool, again, she nearly took her own life. Something stopped her. A sense of resilience and determination crept up through her cowardly spine and she soldiered on. Three weeks later, she discovered she was pregnant.


    Cassie never searched for the father. She happily became a mother in her own right. This was her own, personal blessing in disguise. She resisted the urge to name her daughter Serendipity. That was too extra and over the top. Instead, she settled on Wren Odessa Wilder. She had gone back to her maiden name after her divorce. Wilder was how this had happened so it seemed all the more fitting. She enjoyed the poetic justice.


    Theirs was a good life for as long as it lasted. Three months before her daughter¡¯s eighteenth birthday, during her yearly OB/GYN check up, Cassie was diagnosed with a rare form of blood cancer. The news was shocking. This had been routine. The prognosis was not good. By the time they found it, it was already too late. She was given a matter of weeks to live. She thought she  looked fine. She felt a little off, but nothing her age and working two jobs could not account for. Some dizziness now and then. A lack of appetite and resulting weight loss that she was actually happy for at the time. There were other concerning factors, but she had failed to notice them. Her skin had been turning crepey and her hair had been thinning, but that was a part of getting older.


    With every ounce of resilience she still had in her, Cassie held on until Desi turned eighteen so her daughter could be an adult and receive and be her beneficiary. They had moved in with her mother, reluctantly, and Cassie fought the fight of her life to keep her death at bay long enough that Desi would be the only one that benefitted from her passing. Cassie had made sure everything was taken care of for her funeral and cremation. She continued to fight with her own mother up until the very end, but Cassie made it across the finish line. By a matter of hours. She gave up the ghost midday on Desi¡¯s first day as a lawful adult.


    Cassie had done everything she could to insure and ensure that her daughter would have a long and happy life. But then her father came back into the picture because he had other plans for her. What goes around, eventually does come back around and so does he because Metatron knows that Serendipity is a double-edged sword.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    What does it mean for a God to be an Archetype? Who is indicative of whom? Are the Gods personifications and representations of mortals, or do mortals reflect the deities on earth who then aspire to their higher form? I try to answer this for myself by asking myself which of the two would best help me ascend to greater heights. Someone who represents me, thereby, validating my existence or someone who is paving the way for me, not as a placeholder, but as a source of inspiration? I decided that both work for different reasons and it is like having to decide which came first etc¡­both being valid in argument, theory or application.


    There doesn¡¯t need to be as many different types of Gods as mortals since they are omnipotent and can represent vast swaths of the human race at any given time. They develop certain archetypes early on in their inception for their own furtherance. They can adapt their Archetypes to meet the changing needs and times. As mortals evolve, so do they. Unfortunately, if mortals devolve, so can they. To preserve their position and place, they may need to remove themselves until such time as the pendulum swings back in their favor.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Maggie had recently been contemplating changes. She was beginning to feel like her Archetype of inception was becoming a dying breed in light of increased understanding by mortals that certain constructs may no longer serve. Recently, it had felt like there was something in the air that weighed a little heavy on her. Others seemed not to notice, but her marriage was suffering as a result. For instance, here she stood, watching Orestes in the yard, practicing his swing to and fro. There was a time when always doing so excited her and spurred her to wanting him. So why, now, was she more annoyed than horny? What had changed? Not her and not him? She was still in keeping with herself upon entering into consort with him. He was very much still himself. They had retained their own love and desire for each other for eons. If it was not holding up, then it was the environment in which it existed that had changed. The environment was waning and not supporting her in her effort to sustain their relationship while he seemed unaffected by it. That could only mean one thing. Women were changing while men were staying relatively the same.


    He turned around and smiled at her. She knew what that smile meant but it didn¡¯t land. ¡°Swing and a miss,¡± she thought to herself as she smiled back anyways. She immediately detested herself for this as she did not appreciate the deception she had engaged in. That was not genuine on her part. It was insincere. What was the word she was searching for¡­fake?


    Orestes approached her, now also looking concerned. She stepped towards him and embraced him warmly. She might need to adjust her traditional Archetype. She would not give him up without a fight. But how much of herself would she give up to keep him? Something women everywhere had begun asking themselves for a while now.


    Orestes stepped back and dropped his hands to her waist while he looked into her eyes. She lowered them, slightly, but still detectable to him. This is a God that would slay monsters for her, or grow her favorite flowers from seeds to weave into her beautiful hair. Before her, he had favored many and left quite the trail of broken hearts. But deep down, he was wanting to meet his match. The day after he knew he did, he declared himself a one woman man to himself. Eventually, he admitted it out loud to others. But only after he told her first. Never in all that time and since, had she dipped her eyes slightly to avert his gaze. Something else deep inside him stirred nervously. Then she lifted her gaze back to him and stared boldly into his eyes.


    This was a defining moment for them.


    She spoke softly, gently but firmly. ¡°Orestes, my beloved. I know our time together is coming to an end.¡±


    He stepped back in dismay. That deep down feeling was loss. This was not a feeling he was familiar with. He did not like it.


    Santos, meanwhile, was staring at the last photo of Desi he had on his phone. The seconds ticked by. With a shaking finger, he deleted it. He knew he had to let her go.


    Maggie continued as best she could. ¡°Our once strong connection has dissipated. Something is missing.¡±


    Rhe looked at Blaze looking to her for something she wasn¡¯t sure she had in her. Then she blinked. She took a step forward.


    Santos put his phone down and looked at his empty ring finger. They hadn¡¯t made it quite that far. He had wanted to. She was the holdup there. She called  marriage a ¡°horrendous undertaking¡±. She assured him that did not change the way she felt about him. He wished he could say the same, but it kinda did. If only he had let that go instead. Tears formed behind his eyes but stopped there. No more making an issue out of it. Especially not today.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Orestes turned and walked away without so much as a word, his eyes burning.


    Maggie took a deep breath and let out a wail only she could hear.


    For some unknown reason, Rhe wanted to scream. Instead, she asked him, ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    That is an example of how Archetypes work, until they don¡¯t.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    In response to her question, Blaze did, in effect, apologize for how things transpired earlier that day. He recognized that as First Co-Chair, and in conjunction with Polly, they had a responsibility to maintain decorum and see to it that all voices were equally heard and regarded fairly, so to speak. Allowing an argument to ensue was unacceptable. This would be further addressed. Etc¡­etc¡­


    He did this in his kindest of manners. Forge wasn¡¯t buying it for a second but Rhe decided to let the things slide for now. She wanted to get back to working on a solution. Blaze sensed the heat coming off the forge to his side and cast a glance in that direction. Both Blaze and Rhe knew that diverting attention towards the shop was the best way to change the subject for each of their own reasons.


    ¡°What is the work being done?¡± Blaze asked, tipping his head in the direction of the glowing heat radiating from within the smelt. Forge motioned him towards the door and began to explain the process of creating a source of inspiration that superseded whatever energy was resulting in their being a growing fervent uprising in the world that had a sense of malice at its heart. He showed Blaze the mold for the upcoming cast. This medal would compel those that looked upon it to strive for gold in and of themselves. The addition of the Platinum was to enhance the value and spur the momentum even further.


    Blaze pondered the process and while he appreciated the thought behind it and the effort that went into it, he could see that the result was lacking but did not want to say so. Forge jumped ahead and pointed at the samples that had already been dismissed. The work was ongoing. They had not yet quite hit on the final design.


    ¡°The medal itself is just the beginning.¡± Rhe said. Once we get that right, he will know. And then we can figure out what energy to imbue it with. The medal is the vehicle. The means but not the message. A way to get their attention and appeal to the winner inside we all want to be.¡±


    Blaze furrowed his brow and pursed his lips in deep determination. Everybody does want to be a winner by nature. Somebody was very much tapping into that and creating a fervor around it. That fervor was leading them to the edge of extinction as humankind. But into what instead?


    Forge did not like Rhe explaining his work, but had to accept that this was their work. He had always worked alone. How he had allowed this to happen, he did not know, but had an idea. He had let his guard down and had to admit that alone was not ideal. He felt the need to reestablish his position as the Forge and further explained.


    ¡°This medal will be symbolic of everything Olympus represents and stands for and will mark every weapon and armor in its name. We will imbue this with the energy that best conveys to those that look upon it the spirit of Olympus and the return to the Golden Age of her glory.¡±


    Rhe thought he was being a little too extra. She also did not like that he was stepping on her point. This had been her idea. She was not backing away from it this time.


    She spoke up, looking directly at Blaze as he was about to speak on this. ¡°We need to fight fire with fire. If something or someone is dangling a fairy tale carrot in front of their upturned noses and they are falling for it, hook line and sinker, we have to get a carrot of our own that¡¯s the real deal. We are the real deal. It has to look more real and feel more real. A gold medal is easily recognizable world wide because of the Olympics that still exist. We have to tap into that energy, not just because it ties to us, but because it is an institution with history and prestige.¡±


    ¡°Prestige? That could work to our detriment and remind them only too well of our past indiscretions where they saw us as¡­¡± Blaze started.


    ¡°Elitists.¡± She finished his thought. ¡°I know. But prestige gets a shitty rap. Prestige has an inherent value, doesn¡¯t it? If it isn¡¯t corrupted or exclusionary? If it was something everyone had a right to and access to in their own way and in their own life?


    Something was bothering her. She felt that angst she got when her memory was being triggered but there was nothing there. The void where her memories used to be sometimes needled her while she tried to fill it again by making new ones. Did she even know what she was talking about? And where did the underlying resentment come from?


    Thankfully, Blaze turned his gaze from her and back to the medal. Forge was trying to prevent a scowl from clouding his judgment. He felt the pull of the prestige of which she spoke. For a moment, the three of them stood in silence.


    ¡°What would that Prestige look like?¡± Blaze asked the air around them.


    They all turned their attention to the medal. They all began to imagine. Rhe noticed it and felt vindicated, but still bothered. ¡°Like that.¡± She said to herself.


    Later that evening, over his last drink to cap off the night of what had been a long day, Blaze contemplated. Prestige in your own right. Now that was something he could take to Apollo. They were on the verge of finding a way forward by offering everyone a prestigious life of their own. He knew their Counsel would approve of the concept. They only had to match the means to the message and he had to rely on Forge for that. The question was, could he?


    Rhe had no doubt they could and she was growing tired of the doubt others had in them.


    Forge set to work. If anybody could cast the first stone, it was him.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    For the time being, he was Dr. Emmet Norton. Metatron wished he really were just Dr. Emmet Norton. However, it was a facade. One of so many along the way, he had lost count, but still could recall them all if he so desired. He did not so desire. Being a clinical psychologist was by far and above, one of the easiest facades for him to pull off. A lifetime study of human behavior was his job. He could write the definitive book on it if it would help. Things were past that point right now, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility. He still might, he told himself. Dr. Norton, for appearances sake, looked like a busy and successful practicing psychologist with a full schedule and clientele. Really, he only had one patient. He looked at the appointment book on his desk. Only one name stood out among the notations. Santos DelFuego. He was due to arrive any minute now. This would be the first time he ever came face to face with the man whose life he destroyed to save the long lasting life of his last chance for arrival.


    This was his time of reckoning. He only had a small window left to set things right before he fell from grace entirely. He was repulsed by the idea of that enough to suck it up and do what needed to be done. Face to face. That was the only way. He had needed to wait for Santos to be released from prison to effect his own release in return. The interim had taken its toll and he teetered on the edge. He did not want to fall. He knew only too well what a fallen angel looked like. Lucifer.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    ArchAngels are the mediators between Gods and Mortals. They are aspects of both. They link the Archetypes in both directions, one to another, whichever way that goes. They are not supposed to work independently of either but serve both fairly. Once, there was an ArchAngel who was not satisfied with being just another middle man. One who felt the Gods were too esoteric in their approach to mortals and mortals were too rudimentary to appreciate what was being offered. The ArchAngels needed more jurisdiction. He felt that they should be the governing body politic of both Gods and Mortals and that both should look to them and answer to them for peaceful coexistence. Both should go through them to access the above and below. They would be the border guard between heaven and earth to keep the channels open but maintain the necessary balance of power. They would protect the borders and see to it that only what was right and served the interest of either side accordingly was able to cross. They would keep out the riff raff. They would be sent back to improve upon their circumstances first before being allowed access.


    He campaigned heavily on his agenda and was able to convince a faction of angels to agree with him before he was ousted as a malcontent and cast down along with his legion. What ensued was horrific. When an ArchAngel falls from heaven, their wings are ripped from them and burned in the fires of what we know as hell. Lucifer chased after them in anger and fear, trying to save them. He was too late. He gathered up the ashes of his former wings and spread them over himself in an effort to retain them. The darkness spread instead. He swore vengeance on those who had turned against him and exacted justice on him. Retribution would be his.


    In the MeanTime, Prometheus began an illicit affair with Hera, who, being a Goddess of renown, immediately raised him up to suit her and her plan to unseat Zeus for his treatment of her. She did take everything personally. And no better rival for the Sky God that Prometheus. Off they went to start their own reign, taking several of their own followers with them. Prometheus the mortal became Jehovah the God and they had a son. Soon, their following took hold and all Hera had to do to see it through was take a back seat to her husband and son. She had underestimated his ego. She went from the frying pan into the fire. She did remember that Prometheus had stolen the fire but never thought that he would use it against her.


    Lucifer, seeing the changing of the guard on high became even more bitter. That should have been his reign. But not one to sit around and stew, he seized upon the opportunity to attach himself to their dominion. He would be the Anti to their Christ and serve their misfortune with his own. He gathered even more legions and spurred them on, using their own hypocrisy to his advantage until it got to the point where you could no longer tell the difference between them. He would whisper in their ears and cajole them and stroke them with flattery. He would reward them with wealth and play on their fears. He would raise some of them up to help him in his ill-suited measures. And the sheep would turn his way, the once black sheep becoming lily white. He would whip them into a frenzy, a fervor. Then in the ultimate act of revenge, he would let them destroy themselves while he watched, licking his lips and tasting the ashes of his wings and basking in the remains of the day.


    Metatron knew that the only match for an angel that fell downward from heaven would be an angel that fell upward to even the score. Even if it cost her wings. So he protected them from day one, in a cocoon attached to her by her silver chord of life. Her wings were her allure. She would need them some day.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

 The Eyes Have It

    CHAPTER NINE


    THE EYES HAVE IT


    (Hold your applause)


    Not every day is another day or like any other day. Some are unlike anything that has come or gone before. These kinds of days are called a turning point. The thing is, you don¡¯t see them coming. The best part is the way they sneak up on you when you least expect them. The results may not seem life altering at the time. But they will have a lasting effect. Most importantly, they create a trajectory, whether you are ready for takeoff or not. Some of these turning points are due to karmic debt incurred over time. While some are the course of destiny you inherit with each new life. We seldom know the web we weave as we go about our daily business. We cannot see the mark we make or the scar we inflict, since they are on the soul. Our purpose in each and every life along our chain of events that leads us to evolve and transcend is to be a soul survivor - as many times as possible. Each survival is a step upwards on the staircase to heaven. When you compromise your soul - this constitutes a setback or a step down. Too many of those in a row and I am sure you know the rest. This can start with the dawn of time or happen along the way. Each millenia has a Grotto filled to the brim to begin with. New lives are assigned while continuing lives will regenerate because Akasha believes in second chances.


    That means every soul has up to two millenia to either be rising or fall away. As long as a soul is rising, this soul can carry on. If after two millenia, for any soul is in a state of decomposition, they join the downward spiral. There is no coming back from there. Some will haunt and others will become what we consider to be demons who will try to overtake an existing life for themselves. Most will ultimately descend to an underworld of one place or another. Eventually, there will need to be a purging of these underworlds prior to a new day dawning for All. Lucifer is nearing the end of his second millennium, but not out of turning points yet. Whether there is enough angelic energy still within him is anybody¡¯s guess. He is fast losing the presence of mind for it to matter. So the madness is taking hold. Hence, the descent that is dragging the world down with it. Staying on the staircase is getting harder and harder for most people. The struggle to be a soul survivor in this day and age is real. So many people are missing the point - the turning point. More and more are crossing the line and facing the point of no return.


    Santos is not one of those people. Today, he is getting off an elevator on the second floor of an older building that has store fronts on the bottom floor and private offices on the second. Above that are four floors of small apartments, either one or one-and-a-half bedrooms. This red brick building has stood the test of time for a while and through several redevelopment proposals and attempts that always seem to fall through at the last minute. He is heading down a worn carpeted hall and takes the turn going left at the end of it. There, he comes to the door he is looking for. The goldtone plate on the door reads Dr. Emmet Norton and underneath the name, Clinical Psychologist. Santos wants to turn around and head back out into the sunshine and call and cancel due to illness. He could reschedule but his freedom was at stake. He did not want to take any unnecessary chances with it. So he opened the door and went in. The reception room was small and had little to offer in the way of comfort or style. There was no desk or assistant. Just another door with a button next to it for him to press to let the doctor know he was in. So he pressed it, turned to take a seat, such as they were, and turned back around when the door abruptly opened and he came face to face with Dr. Norton.


    He took in the appearance of him with a single glance. Tall, aging and non-descript beyond the thinning hair and the crows feet around the eyes. Nice suit though. The doctor reached his hand towards him and he took it. Firm handshake and manicured nail. No callouses though. Dr. Emmet showed no emotion as he welcomed his one and only patient.


    ¡°Mr. DelFeugo. Right on time. Welcome.¡± He made a sweeping gesture motioning Santos inside his office.


    Santos looked for a couch but found a comfortable set of chairs and some tasteful but sparse decor instead. Clearly the good doctor did not do couples counselling. He continued to assess while he headed for the chair opposite the one with the notebook on it. As he turned to take his seat, he offered up a simple smile towards the guy with the degree on the wall.


    ¡°Santos is good enough.¡± He said.


    Truer words were hardly ever spoken.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Farther away than can be measured, and beyond what can be imagined, is an abstract that exists in theory. This is ¡°where¡± the Aristocrats stem from. I will do my best to put in recognizable terms the story of Akasha. Bear in mind that this is a dumbed down version of events. Akasha was popular in theory and brilliant in his approach to most things. He was also excellent at campaigning. He was seeking the call to go forward and bring about further evolution in the vastness. He also had equals and others that he aligned himself with. His ¡°best friend¡± was his equal from rearing. Side by side, he grew and accumulated and assimilated in like mindedness with Eros. This Eros precedes any other. This is the type of kinship that spurs each other on to greater heights. Bouncing ideas off of each other and comparing notes, they would conduct experiments and advance the theories their dominion relied upon. Like this is the Realm of Possibilities, theirs was more like one good theory begets another everywhere and all the time. Akasha and Eros were a formidable pair and enviable by many.


    However, whereas Akasha was popular and dynamic, (outgoing) Eros was measured and introspective. While Akasha was brilliant and beautiful, Eros was intellectually curious and handsome. While Akasha drew people in naturally, Eros charmed them into compliance. Many thought when Akasha got the call he rallied for so effectively, Eros would go alongside him as his Second in Command. The thing is, Eros never considered himself to be second place in their kinship, but equal to in every respect. Eros had also wanted to be called, but had somehow missed the mark. His charm only went so far. It paled slightly in comparison to Akasha¡¯s ability to persuade. Akasha was quick to ask Eros to accompany him beyond, but Eros declined. He would await his own call. Since it takes two Aristocrats in Standing to secure a universe in Space/Time for All, Akasha turned to his much beloved in kin and in keeping with, (his sister) Lumina to be his Second.


    The problem there was that Eros and Lumina were beloved and beholden at the time. This created the crux of a dilemma that resulted in much thought and discussion between the respective parties. Either way, Lumina would be a Second. Like any Aristocrat in standing, she would have preferred to be a First in her own right, but unlike Akasha or Eros, she did understand the integral importance of a Second opinion. Everything should be subject to a second look from a fresh pair of eyes who sees things differently enough to be of utmost necessity. After deep and thorough consideration and contemplation, Lumina chose her loyalty to Akasha as paramount to her love for Eros. This was the second time Eros¡¯ charm had failed him in recent memory. This could have been devastating for any being other than an Aristocrat. For them it is just another challenge that requires further consideration. While Akasha and Lumina considered it no further, having arrived at their decision, Eros had only begun to consider, in theory, what his next move should be. While he waited for his own call, what else was he capable of in the interim.


    Akasha had been called primarily on his ability to persuade over his submitted design, which, while outstanding, might have paled slightly in comparison to the one Eros had in mind theoretically. Akasha¡¯s brilliance versus Eros¡¯s intellect put them on par, but Akasha¡¯s gravitational pull outshone Eros¡¯ influence. Eros knew Akasha¡¯s plan as well as he did his own. He was confident that his was better. He saw a flaw or two in his friend¡¯s that could be its undoing but rather than say anything or point them out so that they could be accounted for, he wondered what would happen if just let them go instead as it were. And then he could swoop in if the distress transpired, and save the day, as well as his dear friend and beloved no longer beholden. But since the undoing was only a possibility, he wondered then, if a bit of sabotage might be in order.


    This may seem underhanded, but it behooves the Aristocrats to always challenge themselves and each other to be the best. Totally acceptable behavior on his part. So Eros surreptitiously added the essence of sabotage to the design of Akasha¡¯s plan for his own good. At least then, he would be there in part. He would be incorporated into the design with just a touch of his essence in the right place. Hardly detectable. He was just along for the ride, just in case. Albeit, Anonymously. And as for Lumina, while the loss to him was profound, he had bigger fish to fry. This wasn¡¯t personal. This was absolute. Kindred and friendship notwithstanding, Eros was a preeminent survivor.


    Before setting out on their mission to expand and enhance existence and ascension, Akasha and Lumina went over the design together, with her taking a second look on his behalf. Unfortunately, they did this prior to Eros supplanting his essence of sabotage, which he was well aware of. In her opinion, everything did seem to be in order. That is because while Lumina is every bit as much an Aristocrat in Standing in her own right, she did not possess the brilliance of Akasha or the intellect of Eros. She did, however, possess in and of herself, her own attribute. Her instincts, which were unmatched by either of them. This being the case, she took it upon herself to include a touch of essence of her own in Akasha¡¯s plan. Serendipity - just in case.


    For Lumina, leaving Eros by design was profoundly painful. What they shared was deep and meaningful. Had they been at odds with one another over the course of their relationship? Yes. That is the challenge. Because relationships between Aristocrats are a huge undertaking at times. They bring much more to the table. There are much fewer rights and wrongs between them when theoretically, you can defend yourself on any front. To be beholden can be as horrendous as it can be magnificent. It depends on your intent. They had not made it that far. And now, she was leaving. She would have to struggle to let him go. She plunged the depths of her being to relinquish him for his own good and hers. They would have to go their separate ways for the future of All.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Except, they didn¡¯t. Because unbeknownst to them, they were, in essence, heading out together as Sabotage and Serendipity. They may go hand in hand though they seldom see eye to eye. But their love for one another would continue down through time. His intellect and her instincts would have undue influence in the grand scheme of things and Akasha would need to rely on them to secure his Universe. But he only needed one of them. Eros had been his first choice for second and Lumina had been his Second in Command. This would have to be his decision when the time came and it would not be an easy call. Indeed, it hasn¡¯t been from the beginning.


    So while Santos sought the justice for All, including himself, that he felt was deserved Rhe relied on her instincts, which sometimes upset the apple cart of the Gods. And still, whether they knew it or not, they continued to work together. And Akasha continued to work in his own right, sticking to his master plan.


    Metatron was privy to none of this as he sat across from Santos on behalf of that fateful day. Nobody was.


    That¡¯s the gist of it All.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Blaze was feeling cautiously optimistic about today¡¯s Counsel and his later meeting with Apollo to report on the results. There was, indeed, going to be an unveiling of the new Olympic Gold Medal courtesy of Forge, who was very pleased with the final result. For Forge to be pleased, it must be good. By his own determination, he had to agree, even though he had yet to actually see it. The impression he had of it was enough to raise his spirits. Everybody had been instructed to have their weapon of choice at the ready for the enhancement. He knew Rhe had been recently given a blade made for her by Forge that she reluctantly considered to be her own. Of course, she had to embellish it herself since that was her job. For the Life of him, he could not personally understand their relationship. Given their right to privacy, he had to leave it there.


    Before him on his desk lay his favorite sword and his iron ball. He had a choice to make. He could only adorn one of them. The sword would be the obvious choice for a weapon but the shotput was his claim to fame. He loved to heave a cannon ball with power, force and precision. When it found its mark, he felt the most satisfied. They all had swords to bear. That was a tradition they were known for. The other was for sport in keeping with what he understood to be the tradition in the world they were trying to appeal to now in going for the gold. But as head of Counsel, the sword made more sense. And he certainly could swing it with flourish. It should be the sword he tried hard to convince himself of, as he picked up the ball.


    Just then, he was interrupted in thought by the arrival of his best friend, Orestes. The news was not good. He had not been expecting this in the slightest. Or told him about Maggie wanting a divorce. No specific grounds. She had been vague as to her change of heart where he was concerned. He had not done anything he could think of to warrant this. (They never do, do they?) Straight out of the blue. Blaze ran his hands over his face in despair. Gone was the optimism and replacing it was disappointment. They were so good together. He tried to find the sense in it but got nothing. He did promise Or he would try reasoning with her. (I deliberately did not mention earlier that Maggie was Blaze¡¯s sister, a generation apart, but they were very close. Blaze was the one that recommended Maggie for Counsel when the need arose. She had not been the first choice for her seat. She had been the second by necessity.)


    Blaze and Or joined with the Counsel in session. Hovering above them in the middle of the room was a silk scarf covering what would be revealed when everyone had arrived and taken their seat. Which they did. Weapons included. The convening was called to order and they proceeded straight away to the discussion at hand. The medal was named Prestige by consensus. With little fanfare, Forge vanished the scarf to show his finest work. Each and everyone of them leaned forward in the chairs and looked upon it in awe. They each saw it differently, and yet, the same. It spoke to each of them in their own way. Marnie gasped, smiled at Blaze because she credited him with everything. Rhe, annoyed when she saw this, pulled her blade from her sheath, and offered it up immediately to be the first to be anointed with the veiled threat, because that is what it was in her mind. That is how she saw it. The kind of threat you don¡¯t see coming until it hits you right between the eyes. Forged bestowed his craftsmanship on her dagger after he adorned his own weapon first. His hammer sang out in approval. Her knife grew sharper than ever. And just like that, they had turned the tables. Everyone knew this was not in order. No one said anything. Some were reminded why they had reservations regarding his appointment. Even Blaze was second guessing himself. However, so as not to create a distraction or another heated discussion, he set the order of attachment to follow from there and up to him finally. Because First and Foremost, Blaze was not about to be messed with. On his turn, he stood tall, at his most tallest, being taller than the others. While they waited for him to pull his sword at his side, instead, he brought from behind his back, the cannon ball and held it forward. Blaze had discerned that picking up the ball was the only choice. They don¡¯t call him Blaze of Glory for no reason. The moment The Prestige hit the Iron of the cannon ball, it was like a shot heard round the world reaction.


    And just like that, order was restored. Rhe swore under her breath that if Marnie doted on him for it, she would say something, but she didn¡¯t. Marnie was studying the medal on her dreaded hook with wonder and amazement and a far off look in her eyes. That was Marnie though. She had gone deep. Rhe glanced at Forge who was surprisingly pleased at the end result. She breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. The unveiling had been everything he desired it to be. She decided to be happy for him. It would be easier for her that way. She also decided that she was going to fuck Blaze the first chance she got. And she knew she would get one. Rhe was playing with fire. That¡¯s okay. She¡¯s been burned before.


    She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of SOZ speaking. He was motioning for a call to advance the cause. This was a motion to take up arms and further the charge forward with a battle plan. There was a ripple of anticipation through the Counsel. They were getting antsy and anxious to get moving. A discussion might have ensured, had Dione not spoken up within seconds of this.


    Firmly, he decreed. ¡°Not just yet.¡±


    In all fairness, they tend to forget that it is Dione who is the one to rally the troops. Dion does not go around reminding anyone. Maybe he should.


    SOZ did his best to hide his disappointment and put his hand on the shoulder of his betrothed, his beloved, his Dione, in an ¡°act¡± of solidarity. With his best smile painted on and his eyes shining brightly like the sky, he confirmed Dione¡¯s position.


    ¡°So be it then. I withdraw my motion.¡±


    Blaze, not wanting to see another of his favorite couples come apart at the seams in record time, suggested they table the motion instead. Today had raised their spirits and they should take the opportunity to relish the moment for a time first, and come back together in further discourse prepared to plan ahead. Everyone agreed. The Counsel was adjourned.


    They began to disperse. Rhe hitched her sheath to her belt and headed straight towards Forge, who was being congratulated by Cain. Orestes looked over at Maggie who was avoiding his attention. Nyx and Tory were comparing weapons and Marianas slipped away, but not unnoticed. Blaze shot Maggie a glance she could not avoid because she felt it more than she saw it and she was expecting this. SOZ and Dione left hand in hand. Once departed, SOZ turned on him, but decided not to say anything at the moment. Blaze left for his meeting with Apollo while Maggie dreaded her visit with her brother later, but not really. Rhe, seeing Forge engaged otherwise, decided to go get her steps in and without meaning to, followed Blaze towards the door, which he opened for her.


    ¡°Ladies first.¡± He said with a knowing smile that both annoyed her and landed.


    ¡°Always.¡± She replied out of nowhere as she rushed out and on her way. Now she was having second thoughts.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Later, alone in her room, Marnie removed the medal from her hook, and replaced it with a replica. She had studied it closely to make certain to devise one to its likeness that she believed would fool even the most discerning eyes. Satisfied that nothing linked amiss, she took to the sea, tail propelling her to the depths of the waters where she sought out her true weapon of choice. At the bottom of the trench, she parted the sands and sighed. There was a stirring, She reached her hand down, and began to stroke the rigid, leathery skin and spiny back of her most beloved pet. She whispered sweet nothing in his ear, reminding him of what a good boy he was and always had been. He raised his head in response, his mighty face coming towards her. He licked her in response and she smiled - as she placed The Prestige where she really wanted it. Right between the serpentine eyes of the Kraken.


    ¡°Fuck Forge and him trying to steal the thunder of our one and only Lord Blaze.¡± She murmured to him. ¡°There can be only one Lord of Olympus in Charge. Right baby?¡±


    The Kraken nodded, smiling. He would do anything for her.


    She thought she was alone with him. Zeus knew otherwise. He had taken to following her out of concern after watching her destroy the trail of maggots with what looked to him like glee on her face. He had grave concern for her. He stayed a safe distance so as not to alert her to his presence. But he could hear and see what she was up to. After spending as much time as she could allow herself with her beast, Marnie departed and swept away towards the surface. Zeus stayed, and pondered the situation for a moment. Before The Kraken could slip back under the blanket of sands that protected him, Zeus put a stern thought in its head.


    ¡°Remember who created you. I brought you into this world. I can take you out.¡±


    The Kraken visibly shook.


    Now that is the Zeus we know and love.


    The Kraken slithered back into its resting place.


    Zeus looked up to the surface where Marianas had returned. He knew he was right to keep his eyes on her.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

 History Repeating Part 3

    CHAPTER TEN


    History Repeating Part 3


    What Goes Around Comes Around


    (When you least expect it)


    Saturnalia and Winter Solstice 2024 - The return of the light starts now


    As Santos, Eros is, in essence and in accordance with his true nature this time around, actively engaging in sabotage. Ironically, he is actively engaging in sabotage against the sabotage Eros supplanted in the grand design of Akasha. That was the potential for a descent into madness instead of ascending further, that would destroy All. The essence of Serendipity Lumina supplanted was a little extra luck to ensure the evolution from Energy to The Ethereal that she named Kismet. Now Santos is trying to upend that which created him in the first place and Rhe is starting to push her luck, possibly to her own detriment.


    So, is Santos Eros and is Rhe Lumina? In part, yes. But the time and distance between keeps them separate from them as well. They are one in the same worlds apart. This allows them to be energy independent. It¡¯s like they are their own legacies. Eros still exists as an Aristocrat somewhere. Perhaps busy with his own universe in the making. But Lumina, as the Second Standing Aristocrat still has her place in this one. So where is she?


    As previously mentioned, Akasha sits at the Apex of the gyroscope that we liken this universe to, and the Second Aristocrat will be at the point furthest from him, holding All that is in between them in place. She is, in essence, the anchor. When everything comes together in the end, All in All and the Universe is secured in Time, they can hang out together again because the Apex and Anchor will be fixed. So in the far reaches of the Universe, is an alcove and within the Alcove is a jar and within the jar is pure hope. And the jar is protected and hope could not be released with the ills of the world because it can only be released true to form. That¡¯s Quiddity in effect. Akasha had deemed hope to be the saving grace of All. Lumina got to be All the Hope we All need. She considered that to be a great honor.


    So The Charge is as follows. They must come up with a plan to rally the troops with a call to arms. Then they must go forward with their plan. They must render the veil between heaven and earth dissolved and reintroduce themselves to the mortal coil in existence presently and win back their favor. Once welcomed again, this will place them first in line in the race against Time to find and retrieve The Hope that is needed by All to rise further. If they are lucky enough to do so, then they will acquire the First Rights of Redemption for All and be able to release The Hope Once and For All. Upon release, The Hope will flood the Universe and All can rise. The First Born Ethereal can be brought forth and the ether will take hold from there. This is the Ascension through the Point of Convergence between Energy and Ether. The Universe will be secured in Time and considered fixed in Space/Time for All Time. The mission of Akasha and Lumina will be complete in Essence. She will take her rightful place alongside her brother and the two will Stand from there on. Simple enough. All in a day''s work for them.


    And just in case a little help is needed to get there, a touch of Serendipity is included that can lead to a happenstance to help facilitate the process. The happenstance is abstract and can be anything, or anyone. For instance, it can be an untimely demise. I¡¯m not saying that it is. But it could be. Falling upwards has its perks. I think you get the picture now. I would like to say I hope so, but that would actually be just wishful thinking on my part.


    Back to the story. This is a myth above All.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    So where did it all go wrong the first time around for the Olympians? Zeus had defeated Cronus (who had likewise, defeated Uranus) and established himself as Sky God of Olympus. He and his kinship divided up the responsibilities, and he had chosen to consort with the mightiest of the female aspects among them, believing that together, he and Hera were unstoppable and Olympus would reign supreme from there on. This is what you call ¡°looking good on paper - if you ignore the perceived incestuous connotations. These are energy beings. There is no blood relation among them. The terms brother and sister should actually have been interpreted as in kin and in keeping with or in kind and in kinship with. Their purpose was in like energy forming a cohesive and equal dominion that served the people fairly, God and Mortal alike. They would then go on to conceive of the same to follow. Zeus, in his understanding, did not want to be deposed in the same manner as his predecessor and the predecessor before.


    This was far more likely to happen with Ares as his heir apparent. Ares was the combination of his and Hera¡¯s energy in conception. For her part, Hera believed she had done an excellent job in providing an heir to the throne in Olympus. If she had been talking about Hephaestus or Hebe. Hebe was considered beautiful beyond compare and thoughtful beyond measure. What Heph lacked in appearance he made up for in strength and talent. But Ares was the force to be reckoned with. Truth be told, from the beginning, having looked upon him, Zeus knew Ares would be only too inclined to do to him what he had done to his father and that he himself was where Ares got it from. That apple did not fall too far from the tree.


    They made earnest and several attempts to foster an heir that they could agree upon but every conception between them took them further down the lineage and no closer to consensus. In Zeus¡¯s mind, Hera had failed to produce an heir for the future of Olympus in accordance with Zeus¡¯s aspirations for it. Of course, during the course of this, Zeus did try elsewhere. Hera, still being set on Ares, was unable to adjust her thinking otherwise to another mindset that might have met the vision for Olympus in the eyes of Zeus Almighty. She was staid in her ways. Much trouble began to brew between them in this effort. Zeus would not be deterred in his quest to ensure the Olympus he had risked everything to secure. He had endured the belly of the beast for the Mount on which they now ruled. He was not just a philandering gadabout. He was a man on a mission and Hera was busy trying to thwart any rivals to her place as the preeminent Goddess alongside Zeus and the mother of the heir to the throne. Sadly, she was usurped, and not just by the determination of Zeus, but by Leto - a Titan.


    You cannot imagine her ire in finding out Zeus had turned to a Titan for an heir. This was more than betrayal. This was beyond an embarrassment. ¡°That old hag?!¡± Not only was her pride deeply wounded, but her sense of self was destroyed. Things would never be the same between them again. Hera did everything she could to prevent Leto from bringing forth the future. She stalked her and chased her into hiding. Pregnant and desperate, Leto hid on an island that was little more than a rock in the middle of an ocean. She was aided by Hebe, Hera¡¯s own daughter, and guarded day and night by a rotation of attendees. Leto remained shrouded and deep in a cave, singing to her beloved twin flames and refusing to surrender them.


    That¡¯s right. Not only did this old has been bitch have the nerve to conceive of an heir in Zeus¡¯s favor, now there were two of them. An heir and a spare. This was the ultimate indignity for Hera. Not only was she undermined, but her son was dismissed outright and these two bastards were being protected by none other than her own daughter. Is it any wonder Hera vowed revenge. Zeus, for his part, was putting Olympus first. But not in the best possible way. He loved Hera and expected her to understand and want the same things. He longed for her support. This was her destiny as much as his. He fully expected her to rise to the occasion. Men can really have their heads up their asses sometimes. Zeus is no exception. While all this made sense to him, she could not bring herself to rely on her godhood when her womanhood had been destroyed. She could not reconcile that she had failed to produce the heir to the throne Zeus desired for his own continuance. She felt he betrayed her to save himself. She turned to his sworn enemy for comfort. The only other person to understand the cutthroat nature of Zeus Almighty. Together, they devised a plot that would give Prometheus his own throne and she would provide the heir in his name. She would have her place in the Kingdom of Heaven restored and her son by Prometheus would be the chosen one and beloved by everyone and followed forever. She raised Prometheus up to Godhood, changed his name to Jehovah and ran off with him. They started their own dominion and courted angels and others to join. She gave birth to his only begotten son and named him Jesus. Jehovah immediately began to take the credit for everything. That had been his desire from the start. Hera faded into obscurity as a result but she took one for the team there. She had succeeded to birth the King of Man. And all it cost her was her identity in her own right as she committed herself to being the wife and mother of The Father and the Son. So Prometheus went from the eagle eating his liver on a daily basis to God Almighty and Hera went from being a preeminent Goddess of Olympus to the leopard eating her face. And she has now settled for being a ghost of her former self.


    So while Hera went straight from the frying pan and right into the fire, Apollo and Artemis got off to a rocky start. And while she faded into relative obscurity, they rose to prominence and while mankind turned away from Olympus in search for an easier way to get to heaven, Zeus willingly gave the throne to Apollo as his successor and rightful Heir Apparent. Zeus cannot be deterred from his vision of Olympus, no matter what.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Now, sitting in front of Apollo, shot put in hand and explaining the value of The Prestige being offered, Blaze looked for any indication of approval from the Lord High God. Apollo, steady in response, asked to take a closer look and Blaze handed him the ball. Apollo leaned back in his chair and raised the ball towards the window. It caught light. The medal shone and sparkled. Apollo looked actually amazed for a moment. He handed it back to Blaze and smiled. Apollo always had the most breathtaking smile. Even Blaze was taken aback by it. But then, he seldom had been on the receiving end of it. Not because Apollo withheld it but because Blaze was reluctant. That was just his nature. Apollo actually wanted to hug him, many a time. He knew this simple gesture would be met with resistance. While Apollo had always been generous with his affections, Blaze had always struggled with his emotions. Apollo had an air about him from inception. He was The Sun that Shone from within him. Blaze was the burn that it could bring to anything and everything if over exposed.


    ¡°I look forward to informing the High Counsel of the progress made in the effort to lead The Charge. Hail Olympus.¡±


    Blaze shot off a quick smile in response then reigned it in immediately, his shyness getting the better of him. Inside, Blaze was a shy, quiet and kind child who adored his father figure and wanted to please him. He had always been the apple of his father¡¯s eye, but somehow always felt the footsteps he was trying to follow were in some ways, far too big and in other ways, much too constricting. Even the most loving father/son relationships can be prickly. In trying so hard to follow suit, you may end up donning a crown of thorns. Blaze went out of his way to avoid putting Apollo on a pedestal or trying to be too much like him. He made all the effort necessary to be his own man while still recognizing Apollo¡¯s influence and position. This is why he would try to avoid him at times and rely on Polly to intervene. His need for approval from him was inherent and the dangers of flying too close to the sun were well recorded.


    Blaze stood and reached hind towards Apollo for shaking. Apollo stood immediately in return and took it heartily.


    ¡°Let me know how it goes.¡± Blaze said while shaking the hand of Apollo Almighty.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary Blaze. You will attend with me to show them yourself. My words alone will not do this justice. They must see for themselves.¡±


    Blaze knew this was the highest compliment and honor he could hope for. Suddenly there was a pit in his stomach. This was not his accomplishment alone. He could not take full credit for it


    .


    ¡°Only if our Counsel agrees. I would need their vote of confidence first because this was their effort in total, and some more than others deserve recognition. But being equal in wanting to further the cause, this is an initiative we all have similar enthusiasm for. I would want a decree on their behalf stating that this is ours to share.¡± He stumbled through his explanation.


    ¡°God speed then Blaze. Tick tock.¡± Apollo chuckled. He really did admire this man.


    ¡°Right. Hail Olympus. Back to work.¡± Blaze responded, turning to leave.


    ¡°No rest for the weary or wicked.¡± Apollo, who always likes the last word, shouted after him.


    Blaze stopped at the door and turned back towards Apollo, saluted him in true Olympic fashion, with a smile, and turned right back around and quickly left.


    Yet another Counsel already would not be met with overwhelming appreciation but he knew the subject matter would be well received. He just hoped that he could ensure there would be proper and enough credit to go around so as not to ruffle any feathers in their midst.


    Apollo waited until Blaze left and then shifted his appearance to an iridescent beam of light. This is how he preferred to look to himself. Apollo was bestowed with many talents and abilities from his conception. So much so, that it was hard to keep track of them. He tended to don a different look that resonated with each, but after a while, he just became the omnipresence he embodies. While every God has the ability to reflect back to you how you see them for relatability, most do adopt a form that resonates with them and their energy. Apollo always reflects in form. However the person seeing him sees him, that¡¯s how he appears to them to the best of his ability and it never disappoints. But pure light is how he sees himself and how he is most comfortable.


    He glided across the room and out the window to perch atop the roof of the Great Palace to oversee Olympus. Unless you were looking for him, all you would see is the sunlight refracting off of the roof that would lift your spirits upon sight. Just a dazzling array of prismatic radiants dancing on the dome of the home of the Gods. Even at his advanced age, Apollo loves to dance and remains light-hearted and inspiring. Whether it is a little soft shoe, a tap here or there or waltzing among the turrets, he will afford himself a much deserved dance for a job well done. That is how he was feeling at the moment. If you were walking by and happened to glance upwards, you might add a little skip to your step and feel the same way for no particular reason. Apollo¡¯s energy has always been infectious in a good way.


    Blaze gave himself a secretive little fist pump and then gathered himself together to put out a call to convene. As he suspected, there were a couple of groans but most were anxious to hear how it went. Surprisingly, the saddest and sorriest groan of all came from where least expected. Orestes. Things were not going well there. Blaze had tried speaking with Maggie but she was much more resolute than he was expecting. Something was definitely amiss there. He would try again after allowing some of the dust to settle but he was more worried about Or retreating back to his previous ways and doing irreparable harm before any chance of reconciliation could be negotiated. Blaze did not want to interfere in other people''s love lives since certainly he was the last to give advice. In fact, he relied heavily on Or and if not, Maggie for sound relationship advice. But if he were being honest, he had noticed their marriage was dulling around the edges as of late, though he could not pinpoint a time when this first began to happen. It had been a subtle and barely discernible shift at first that had now culminated in a separation with divorce pending. He decided that in the midst of this, Or was the one he would focus on and endeavor to support to help keep him on the right track which was imperative right now. The last thing they needed was another upheaval on Counsel. He would, of course, have to make certain Maggie understood why he needed to throw his support towards Or, and if she did have any objections, he would have to rethink his position so as not to betray her. He exercised and erred on the side of caution ever since Seraphina had succumbed to her despondency over an embarrassment she had brought upon herself that she took personally as well as believing she had made them all look bad from her perspective. No amount of reassuring her that this too would pass seemed to satisfy. He still shuddered when he recalled the way she decided to take it out on herself with such finality. The way she had executed it with such precision. He knew, from that moment on, he had to be more thorough in his responsibilities.


    While others in no way blamed him, he blamed himself for what had happened and the events leading up to it. He simply wanted to brush it off as live and learn. Then, he learned the hard way that living with mistakes is easier said than done. Now, he took the time to consider the consequences of not wanting to get involved and cursed his own aloofness. He remembered how Maggie¡¯s stepping up had made the difference and brought them all back together in song. Harmony had been reestablished and were it not for her, they would not be where they were now and in the position they somehow managed to maintain and further to this point. The debt of gratitude he had for Maggie weighed a little heavy on him as he knew it was Or that was in immediate danger to himself. While he might not take the extreme measures Seraphina had taken, he could do himself real damage if he let himself go.


    And then there was the situation with Forge and Rhe and whatever was going on there. While he did not feel there was a direct threat to his leadership, they had definitely put him on notice that they were not there to feather his nest. Taking The Prestige to the High Counsel was an honor but their recognition in doing so could not go unnoticed or there would be repercussions. And rightfully so. Forge had put everything he had into creating The Gold Medal and the idea had been Rhe¡¯s to begin with. Again, the word fervent came to mind and the discussion that had ensued with Cain. He began to wonder how far the brink of madness extended. What if the descent wasn¡¯t the issue right now? What if expansion was the point?


    Suddenly, Blaze stopped dead in his tracks. How had he not considered that? Or the possibility of how it had reached Olympus. He again thought about Seraphina¡¯s despondency, Maggie and Or¡¯s marriage breaking down, and Forge¡¯s growing confidence in himself as a contender. And Rhe. Did it all not start there and then? He could not be certain because he did not know exactly when then was. But one thing Blaze had going in his favor there was that as the God of Life for Olympus, he had access to the Grotto, and therein, the Book of Life. What he did not know was her given name. But Styx did.


    ¡°Shit.¡± He muttered to himself. That was not good.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Santos walked out of his appointment with Dr. Norton is some kind of a stupor. He rang his fingers through his hair to pull it back and put back on his ball cap he had been wearing earlier. He had taken it off for the session, but when he was in public he wore it with the brim pulled low. He had his sunglasses in the neck of his t-shirt ready to put on when he stepped outside. He checked his phone for messages and to make sure the tracker was still on. Good. Big Brother was watching. He took a moment to lean against the wall and take a deep breath. This had been much different than he was expecting. He was not quite sure what to make of it. He had been prepared for a recounting of the experience and a treatment plan of some kind to address his ongoing reluctance to process the experience and deal with the loss and take full accountability and on and on. Dr. Norton didn¡¯t seem to be concerned with any of the usual social worker box ticking. He had mostly listened and taken a few notes, but otherwise, let Santos talk about whatever was on his mind. Santos kept it simple, talking about work and home and his parents being great and his sister being so supportive and not much in the way of his friends still being there because of Desi being gone. He remembered saying something about her being the glue that held all that together. That¡¯s what people say, right? That and she had a smile that lit up a room. Well, he didn¡¯t say that because it would have been too cliche.


    Dr. Norton asked him one question near the end. ¡°What would you have done differently?¡±


    Santos had to think for a second. He looked at a picture of a landscape on the wall and shook his head to indicate he didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°No answer doctor. I¡¯ve got nothing.¡±


    ¡°That is the answer Santos because only an innocent man would say that. And you have nothing. Grammatically speaking. But you need to own your innocence in the face of adversity.¡±


    Santos was not expecting this. He rubbed his eyes. He looked at Dr, Norton. The guy did not look like much to speak of but he had depth. It was in his eyes.


    ¡°What makes you so sure I¡¯m innocent when nobody else does?¡± Santos asked him.


    ¡°You do.¡± Said the doctor. ¡°I have no reason not to believe you. I¡¯m not a lawyer, judge or jury member. You¡¯re my patient. My first responsibility is to believe you. The only way I can treat you for anything is to listen to you and believe what you say until I have evidence to the contrary. You have given me no evidence to the contrary. I do get the sense that you are deceptive for good reason, but you are not a liar. There is a difference. Deception is about keeping the truth to yourself for your own protection. Lying is about denying the truth for fear it will expose you. We are out of time for today but next appointment I want to talk about rebuilding your life on the foundation of your being innocent in truth even though you are convicted by the law, which isn¡¯t always about the protection it professes to offer so much as it is the industry it has become that so many people rely on for the wrong reason.¡±


    Santos nearly fell out of his chair. Dr. Norton leaned forward and in a calm and reassuring voice said ¡°That¡¯s enough for today.¡±


    Now, leaning against the wall outside his office, looking down the hall, Santos made his first move to reclaim his life. He lifted the brim of his hat to the top of his head to let his face show. Maybe next time, he will show up without it. Maybe.


    Santos opened the door to the stairwell and wondered if deception was keeping the truth to yourself than what was he doing? Anarchy. Oh Santos! If you only knew.


    When he looked up he saw a dude juggling a couple bags coming down the stairs and was immediately on alert until he realized they were laundry bags. He stepped back to make room for the guy to pass. He was weighed down by the load.


    ¡°Thanks mate.¡± Buddy said.


    ¡°Ya. No problem.¡± Santos responded. ¡°Do you need a hand with those?¡±


    Thus began the friendship of Santos and Dante. An innocent convict and his not so innocent wing man. Talk about a match made in heaven. Turns out that Dante was an underpaid and overworked law clerk who was trying to start a true crime podcast with a twist that he hadn¡¯t quite landed on. And Santos was a tech savvy criminal with a killer smile and a story to tell. Dante had just been ditched by his girlfriend who thought she was going to be marrying a successful lawyer when they got together. Not a second year law school dropout who saved himself the embarrassment of failing by leaving of his own volition. Turns out, Dante didn¡¯t have the killer instinct it took to be a lawyer. He had the brains for it though. And he had learned a lot through trial and error.


    So Dante had to pack up on the fly and find himself a shit apartment to start over, with big plans in his pocket and enough in his bank account to rent a two bedroom walk up for now. He thought he needed a studio. What he really needed was a roommate. What they didn¡¯t need was a dining room. Santos had a whole restaurant for that. The dining room made for a great studio with a view to the outside world Santos needed to keep an eye on. But, in the MeanTime, what better way for him to build a new life on his innocence than with his own platform. Well, his and Dante¡¯s platform. For now.


    His PO approved the move based on the bare minimum of information required to put through the paperwork. Of course, it didn¡¯t hurt that it was in the same building as his court appointed therapist.


    Turns out Dante had a sister too. Another thing they had in common. Only his was wicked hot and single. This new gig came with benefits. Things were starting to look up for Santos.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    (Meanwhile, after their appointment, Metatron looked over his notes. The remorse he felt was almost unbearable. He had not wanted to like this man. He had been wrong about him. He thought Wren would be better off without him. In all fairness to Metatron though, no father thinks any man is good enough for his daughter. Now what?)


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

 Once in a While

    CHAPTER ELEVEN


    ONCE IN A WHILE


    (There comes a time)


    December 25, 2024 - Just another day in my book


    Rhe¡¯s memory drove her crazy at times. It was spotty at best and maddening at its worst. She could remember things of her world that seemed important to her with no specific idea as to why. She could bake a mean pie but she had no clue if she was a baker. She knew she wanted the exercise equipment Forge helped her fashion although she could not remember ever exercising. She had a sense of what the world she came from was like with no recollection of her own experience in that world. She had feelings she could not account for and a sense of loss that hung over her like a dark cloud that she could not put her finger on. She was sure about the Gold Medal being indicative of what people wanted although she herself did not have a direct connection to striving for it personally. She was athletic but was she an athlete? She did not think so. Was she just trying to be the best version of herself? What exactly was that?


    While she toiled and tooled away at a leather strapping for her new dagger. Forge had left it to her to embellish to her liking and she had decided to keep it simple, allowing the blade itself to shine. While working away, her mind wandered and weaved through the interminable maze of her mind. There were always more questions than answers. She eventually came to the same conclusion every time. It did not matter who she was. It was about who she could be now. She put down her tools and rubbed her temples. Her back hurt. It shouldn¡¯t, but it did. She stretched her arms as far above her head as she could and suddenly thought she needed a yoga mat. Of course, she could not remember ever doing yoga, only that it helped. She looked around the shop at the endless rows of supplies and wondered what she was looking for. Something soft yet resilient. Was it foam? Was it rubber? Nothing caught her eye. She could make due with a decent carpet. There were plenty of those around. People did love to weave here. There were several in their living quarters. One in particular came to mind.


    In her room which she still kept for herself, it was underneath her vanity. Another thing she insisted on having without a frame of reference. With a gilded mirror and matching chair with a brocade seat. Looking at it now, it seemed so out of place where it once made her feel at home. She moved the chair to the corner of the room and lifting first the back legs of the vanity, she pulled the carpet forward and lifted the front legs to extract it from beneath. Rolling it up, she carried it out to the balcony and unfurled it. On the rug was a design woven in that she really looked at for the first time. It depicted a garden seen with an arched gated entryway covered in ivy and what appeared to be clouds surrounding it. She knelt and looked closer at the tapestry. There were littles specks of light dancing around within the garden. There were flowers, birds and butterflies. There was sunshine streaming in from somewhere because there was no actual sky. Without knowing how she knew, she knew this was the Grotto. The home of newborn souls. Not regenerated or reincarnated ones. Not fragments or remains of the day. Those tiny refractions of life were new to this world. She sat cross-legged in front of the carpet and ran her hand along the surface of it. What would it be like, she wondered? She did not remember being a mother or having a mother or wanting to be a mother. She wasn¡¯t sure she had it in her, but those dancing little specks sparked an interest in her.


    She turned around and laid down on the mat. She stared up at the sky and brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them while she attempted to breath in deeply without the presence of lungs. If she concentrated, she could pull it in from around her and let it out slowly, deliberately and evenly. Then she stretched completely out and did the same. She rolled onto her front and got to her knees. She went into downward facing dog and then rose to upward facing dog, and lifting first one leg, and then the other, she continued stretching until her back stopped hurting. She relaxed, laying in the sun, looking up at the sky with The Grotto tucked safely beneath her. She felt too alone for her own good. She had lost her mind, but the one replacing it was taking on a life of its own. Rhe was ascending further into Godhood. She was contemplating the taste of Ambrosia. She sat up quickly and shook it off. She was not ready. There was something stopping her. Something more. Like something else or someone else was waiting in the wings. But what. Sometimes it felt like it was on the tip of her tongue but she could not quite put her finger on it. Something obscure. But that was not the word she was searching for. She tried again but was suddenly interrupted. Blaze had decided to convene another Counsel. This was getting tedious. She shrugged everything off and went inside, thinking all the while¡­


    ¡°A rose by any other name.¡± She knew who she was, just not exactly who she was.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Nyx had a feeling there was trouble brewing. She had convened Counsel with the intent of revealing the infestation of the bridge but had been intercepted by Blaze who wondered if ¡°it could wait¡± in favor of The Prestige. Marnie, always in support of whatever Blaze wanted, had encouraged her to let it go for now. Marnie felt the problem had been solved and that it was most likely due to the bridge being old and rotting. Nyx was offended. She cared for the bridge. The rot was not due to the age of the bridge. Another Counsel was due to start and she still wanted to raise the subject, but decided otherwise for the time being. She surveyed her discus and ran her finger around the platinum edge of the medal. First chance she had, she was going back to the bridge, weapon in hand, and not alone. Nyx had a friend in Dione and Dione had a friend she needed. A friend in need indeed.


    A best friend is a panacea for hard times. They can smooth things over with a single smile or a well placed nod of understanding. Nyx had such a friend in Dione. They had bonded early in their existence because their differences brought them together and their similarities sealed the deal. For her part, Nyx lacked the nurturing nature of a mother figure. Aphrodite has a tendency to be aloof with women. She believes they all feel threatened by her and even jealous of her. In her hay day that was mostly true but as following generations had their own issues to contend with, Aphrodite became more of a legend. Legacies developed their own dichotomies and dynamics. Meanwhile, Dione thrived under the tutelage of Persephone and Nyx found herself drawn to them and spent more time hanging out in the Underworld with Dione and his influences. They would whisper in secret about anything and everything while they built hidden forts and played hide and seek. Persephone happily took Nyx in tow and many a great time was spent by them all, including Hades, being a family of sorts unto themselves.


    But Nyx¡¯s favorite aspect of life in the Underworld was playing with Cerberus. The only thing better than having a dog, was having one with three heads. You could pat three heads and get licked by all three and give each one a treat and they would each smile back at you. Granted, he was not the best looking dog with his whipping serpent tail and lack of fur on his body, but his love and loyalty was beyond measure. And yes, he was supposed to be the guard dog, but in her defense, there was not much for him to guard those days. She and Dione took him everywhere with them and Hades eventually allowed the great dane¡¯s offspring to take over and granted Cerb retirement status. He was immortal but aged. There was not as much spring in his step or enthusiasm for barking but his bite still tore through anything that got in his way or threatened anyone he loved. Nyx, while busy with her own life more and more, still took the time to visit him with treats in her pockets and adoration in her eyes. She still hung out with Dione even though he was so betrothed she could not resist teasing Dione about it. And when she needed a friend, like she did now, Dione could still be counted on.


    So in the space/time between the previous Counsel and the upcoming one, Nyx decided to take matters into her own hands. SOZ had ditched Dione to run off and do something important but more than likely he was pitching a minor fit over not getting his own way, and Marianas slipped away to avoid talking about the bridge with her because Blaze was otherwise concerned, so Nyx hooked Dione by the arm and whispered in his ear like old times about an old friend and a plan for a new life for the beloved pet. Once out of earshot of the others, Dione listened intently, nodded at the right moment and smiled at the thought. Yes. Cerb was the right dog for the job and would be thrilled to be back in service. And Dione definitely wanted to take a look at the bridge. A call to arms was on the table now and he needed more information to favor a decision to rally.


    Together, they went home and with one whistle, Cerb came running. After treating him the way he deserved for being the good dog that he was, Nyx, Dione and the guard dog of all guard dogs set out for the bridge. Upon closer inspection by all three of them including the three heads of Cerb, they determined there was no rot to be found on the bridge. The rot was inflicted upon it from a growing concern. The bridge did need to be guarded. Someone or something was trying to destroy the rainbow nature of it and everything that it represented. A distinct dislike crept over them and their own dispositions as gay and non-binary. Cerb growled a deep throated, menacing snarl and licked all three of his lips and bared all his teeth in full view. Each head looked in a different direction, surveying the scene. He sensed the threat. There was a menace in their midst. The fight for the bridge was not over. It had just begun. Cerb was pacing, awaiting the command he knew was coming. Dione pointed to the far end of the bridge where the crossing began and the most loving and loyal of all beasts bounded towards it to greet the incoming, as he had been trained to do. Those with rightful passage had nothing to fear from him. The same could not be said for those who trespassed. They could be ripped to shreds.


    They would be a little sad to leave him there but it was the happiest he looked in a long while. Watching for the inbound gait of a newly arriving spirit animal and ensuring safe passage had given him a new lease on life. He turned to them as if to say ¡°Leave me to this!¡± All three faces smiled, tongues lollying and eyes bright.


    ¡°Good boy lovely.¡± Nyx whispered in the wind in his direction. She and Dione hooked arms and turned to leave. She wondered if she had ever felt better than she did right now. Again, he nodded and she nodded back. She briefly turned her head to take one more look.


    ¡°Take that!¡± She mouthed to no one in particular but to anyone who dared cross her.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    An impatient, ungodly steed stomped its hoof in anger. Flies buzzed around its seeping eyes and drool steamed in grotesque fashion from its ratty mouth. Ugly was his name and pestilence was his game. The master would not be pleased. This was supposed to be their time to shine. What was the hold up? Poised on the edge of a deep, dark sorrow set to be unleashed, the other three horses, each of a different name, glared off into the distance. Some inroads had been made but the depth of despair they longed to let loose on the world was still held at bay. Behind them, an encampment on the shore stunk up the place. The waiting was becoming maddening.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Lucifer slammed his fist on the wooden stocks he held his favorite prisoner in. He leaned down, and looked him dead in the face. He spit. The more maddening the better. He was not pleased, but that is when he did his best work. Admittedly, the bridge had not been his best work and pestilence would pay for that. He should know better than to entrust such delicate subterfuge to sloppy seconds. His henchmen were a constant source of disappointment to him. They did not seem to carry the gravitas they had been gifted with in the beginning. The world had become too desensitized to their gifts. That is why he had to up the ante and brew a big old pot of outright madness. This was a tedious and time consuming undertaking and while every little insidious demagogue helped stoke the flames and fire that heated it, there was still enough reason. He went behind the prisoner he cherished and fucked him up the ass to his content. After he came like gangbusters to the tears and distress of his beloved but failed dictator of an ancient land, he went back to look at his quivering face and licked the trail of tears down to his mouth and kissed him hard and with the kind of passion even a man¡¯s man could not resist. Once he was certain there would be no resistance, Lucifer stuck his cum stained dick in the poor guy¡¯s mouth and began to move it back and forth in obvious ecstasy. The sucking became more desperate than ever. Lucifer began to groan, willing himself to make it last as long as he could. Through his clenched eyes he imagined the pot swirling and steeping in utter insanity. Pestilence, Famine, War and Death they were immune to but the nonsense they would believe if shoveled down their throats by people they wanted to be was potent stuff. He exploded in an orgasm of triumphant proportions. He rubbed his hand over the greasy hair of his beloved.


    ¡°Ohhh, good boy.¡±


    A pitiful cry escaped the chapped and bleeding lips of a once rich and powerful man who had it made.


    ¡°Idiots.¡± He lisped through his toothless gums because his lover preferred the feel of them that way against his sensitive dick. ¡°They are all idiots, my lord and savior.¡±


    It sounded ridiculous coming from this guy. He never got to cum. His dick had been cut off and his prostate removed and both hung around his neck as a reminder of his glory days as a wanton, wealthy and feared man of God who pretended he hadn¡¯t sold his soul to the devil to line his pockets. Lucifer had intercepted him upon his death and carried him off, further and further away from the light, restoring his body and claiming it for himself. The devil was every bit as merciless as he had led others to believe to scare them into submission - and, of course, donation.


    ¡°Idiots indeed.¡±


    Lucifer realized the horsemen and their beasts of burden had outlived their usefulness to him. At that point, they just became figments of the imagination while melding with and melting into the madness they had been poised on the brink of, awaiting their day to shine. A wave they did not see coming just rose up and swallowed them all whole. A few bubbles escaped the surface in memory of them. And while Lucifer smiled at their demise, a slight shiver went down his crooked spine. He was alone. He forgot they were his only friends.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Santos woke to a beam of light in his eyes creeping through the blinds on the window of his new bedroom. He let out a small grunt as he turned on to his side. Today was therapy day again. Not that he entirely minded. Doctor Norton was a curious kind of guy but in a good way. Santos put his arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. He was not used to things going well for him anymore and it made him nervous. He still had trouble relaxing. But every now and then it was okay to savor the moment and with Viv¡¯s steady breathing in sleep beside him, this was one of those moments. Vivianne was Dante¡¯s younger sister by a couple of years and a spirited woman with a mind of her own. Santos had made sure his new friend and roommate would be okay with him hooking up with his sis, being a brother himself. Dante had just fist bumped him and told him to go for it if it was cool with her. She was a grown ass woman who would do what she wanted anyways, Santos kept it chill though. He wasn¡¯t ready for serious. Viv understood, given everything he had been through. She was pretty busy with her own thing anyways. Viv worked as a teacher¡¯s aid with children on the spectrum and was very good at it. To her, everything was a learning curve.


    Santos decided to slip quietly out of bed and hit the shower while she slept so he could have it all to himself. She did love to shower together and she would probably pout a little about it, but he needed the solitude in there because it meant so much more to him than she knew. He could breath in there. He felt like he was starting to wake up from a bad dream. They had been working on his case for the podcast and with Doc Norton on his side, Santos was beginning to think this might be okay. He had been painted in such a bad light by the crown to the point that even he believed it after a while. He wondered again if there was anything he would have done differently.


    ¡°Only everything.¡± He answered himself, alone in the shower.


    Some days he wished he had never met Desi. Others, he wondered how he could go on without her. Even Viv didn¡¯t quite take the sting out of that. After toweling dry and putting his mass of wet curls up in one of Viv¡¯s hair clips, he shaved and wiped his face. The teardrop tattoo on the bottom corner of his left eye still bothered him. That had not been a choice so much as a given. He didn¡¯t like tell tale markings. He certainly didn¡¯t like being branded. He turned around, away from the mirror and leaned against the bathroom countertop. He would have to look into getting it removed, even though he knew it would hurt.


    He went back into the bedroom to wake Viv up for work. No matter how late he worked, he was still wide awake early. She had come by the restaurant after work, as did Dante, and they had hung out, eaten and even laughed a couple of times. They had a couple of drinks but Santos stuck to water. They took a rideshare home because he was still barred from driving and he would not let either of them get behind the wheel. Not on his watch. He gently roused her and pointed at the time on her phone.


    ¡°Ugh.¡± She said, burying her head back in the pillow.


    Santos leaned in and kissed her neck.


    ¡°Up and at em girly. Those kids are counting on you to make sense of their world for them.¡± He really admired what she did.


    Viv reached around his waist and pulled him in for a hug and so she could smell him.


    ¡°Asshole, You should have woken me sooner.¡± He was right about her being a little miffed with him for not wanting her there in the shower with him where, in her opinion, she did some of her best work.


    ¡°Next time for sure.¡± He said with surety.


    As she headed out the door to her waiting lift, with a quick good-bye to her brother and a nice, lingering kiss on his lips, Santos knew he was not ready for this. Dante was loading up his messenger bag and getting geared up to get going himself. Santos did not work till later. He would take a nap before his appointment. Having a life again was exhausting. But he wouldn¡¯t want it any other way. Dante was going to take the bus to his car. He was saving every cent he could for the supplies they needed to launch. Santos was tracking down the audio/video equipment and setting things up as they came in. They were building themselves a nice little studio and almost ready to start recording. Santos was not quite sure he was up to reliving the entire experience, but this could be a whole new start for him, and a whole new way to reach people. This could really strike a chord with the right audience and lead to other avenues of discourse and income. They still had to come up with the right name for the podcast and had floated a few ideas but had not yet landed on a winner.


    Once he had the place to himself, he cleaned up after everyone willingly, made himself a smoothie, and looked through the bookmarked sites on his laptop. Some were for regular sale sights for tech stuff. Others were more to his liking. He could find everything he needed on the other side of the web, and usually for a better price. But he had to carefully vet every offer. Things had definitely gone down hill since he went away. The crap that people were into and posting was weird AF sometimes. If you thought normally that things were going crazy, one look behind the curtain and you would be certain of it. But pulling back the curtain was a big part of the shit show. Santos wanted to expose every pedo and nazi on the dark web. This whole lunatic fringe was stomach churning but he stayed in his own lane instead. He knew only too well how important staying in your lane was.


    A couple of good leads later, he decided to take a quick snooze before his meeting with Doc, and work after that. He had a dream he was not expecting, although how can you? In it, he was fishing. Something he never did. He was on the bank of a river, throwing out his line like he had seen on TV. He hooked something and reeled it in after some give and take. He had snagged a fishing net that his lure had gotten caught on and in it were a bunch of small fish gasping for air and not good for eating. But they were completely tangled in the net. There was no getting out of it for them. He removed his silver lure that looked like a microphone or something, and tossed the net back into the river to let the little fish drown. He went to put the lure in his tackle box. But suddenly it turned into a butterfly and flew away, disappearing from sight. He kicked his tackle box in frustration, but then, the bank of the river started to give way and he was slipping towards the water that had now turned dark and was bigger and stronger. He turned and ran in the direction the butterfly had flown, leaving everything else behind.


    He woke up with a start, his head groggy and feeling discombobulated. He quickly grabbed his phone to turn off the alarm he had set so he would not miss his appointment. He had to stay vigilant. Every now and then you can savor a moment but for the most part, you always need to keep your head above water and your game on point. There is seriously dark shit in play. While the world sleeps in any given part of it at any given time, trouble is always brewing just below the surface.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------


    Blaze stood on the rocky banks of the River Styx giving her a once over. He just wanted to take a quick look at her. He was not sure what he was looking for, or why, but he needed to see for himself. She was a beast of a river at her best and a force to be reckoned with at her worst. She spewed and she flowed. Somewhere off to his left, he heard the sound of paddles in the water. He turned to head back. He did not want to push his luck or deal with the ferryman.


    ¡°Coward.¡± He heard her whisper to him.


    He kept walking. ¡°You are welcome to keep your opinion and anything else you have to yourself Styx.¡± He muttered as he kept deliberately marching away from her.


    ¡°For now.¡± He finished his thought as he emerged into the light of Olympus.


    ¡°Crazy bitch.¡± He called her when he was safely out of her reach.


    Blaze felt a deep, dark plan starting to take shape in the back of his head. He pulled his shot put from his shield. He had come prepared, just in case. The gold in the medal was glowing and appeared to be melting. The platinum ring was keeping it in place. She had sensed it and wanted it for herself. The heavy metal of the cannonball started to heat up. He gripped it tighter, resisting the urge to throw it down. He willed it get a hold of itself. Wherever that medal led, she would follow. He strained against it and brought it to bear in his favor. It was at that moment he knew she could be tamed. More importantly, she could be useful. Against the madness.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------