Emily's House (The Akasha Chronicles)

by Wright, Natalie

  “The Sight Stone. It’s exceptionally rare indeed. Probably the last one of its kind in all the universe. Yes, it enhances the sight.”

  “But these visions I have – are they telling the future or showing the past?”

  “Sometimes the sight shows us things as they are – the truth of a situation. Sometimes the possible future, sometimes past.”

  “But how do I know – I mean how am I to know which is which? How can I be certain of what I’m seeing?”

  “Ah, that is the trick now, isn’t it? With experience, Miss Emily, you will know what you see. Your vision – what did you see?”

  “I saw Fanny and Jake on a train and the weird part was, they were with my dad!”

  “Why strange for your friends to be with your dad?”

  “Well, because my dad – he’s been sort of lost since my mom died.”

  “Lost? I thought he lived with my young mistress.”

  “Yes, well he lives with me but you know, it’s like he’s not quite there. He walks around and goes through the motions, but he’s not present. Do you understand?” I asked as I could see that his brow was furrowed.

  “I think I understand your meaning. You did not expect to see your father in the crystal. What do you think they were doing?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking you for help. They were on a train. But is that something they’re doing right now? Or something they already did? Or something they’re going to do?”

  “The one who has the vision is in best place to answer that question. I did not see your vision. I do not know the meaning of it. Reach out with your feelings about it. What did you feel when you saw the vision?”

  “Hope. Yes, I felt a surge of hope.”

  “What think you then of the vision? Past, present or future?”

  “I think it’s present. I think I was seeing what they’re doing now in our world.”

  “Probably right then.”

  “But it still doesn’t answer the question. Why would my dad be on a train with Jake and Fanny?”

  “Only time will answer that riddle,” said Hindergog.

  We walked along in silence for a while. But then I had to ask a question that had been burning in my mind.

  “Hindergog, was this Saorla’s dagger?”

  “Yes.”

  “The one she took her own life with?” I asked as I held it gingerly.

  “Yes.”

  “But Hindergog, how did you get this? You were here and Saorla in my world.”

  “It does not matter how it came to me, but it did. It found its way back to Hindergog,” he said as his eyes misted up.

  “But Hindergog, I can’t take this. You loved Saorla very much, and this is the only thing of hers that you have. You keep it, little guy. I can’t take it.”

  “You must have it Miss Emily. It belonged to Saorla, but it was forged by my hand for my first mistress and was held by every High Priestess since. You must have it now,” he said.

  “This is an honor, Hindergog, truly. But I’m not a High Priestess yet. I don’t feel ready for such a valuable thing.”

  “Miss Emily, you are next High Priestess. You must have the dagger. It will help you. Like the torc about your arm, the dagger has much magical energy. You will need it more than old Hindergog.”

  “What magic does it have Hindergog?”

  “You have experienced the Sight Stone. It is a sacred stone from my own world, the only one that still exists. It will help you with the sight – not that most of the High Priestesses of the Order of Brighid needed much help with that.”

  “Well I do! Do I have to do anything special to use it?”

  “Just by holding it, you will receive a boost to your own sight and inner guidance. But there is more. It is more than just a dagger. That object you hold – it can become any object that you need it to be.”

  “What? It will change into whatever I want? Oh, is that just here – in the Netherworld?”

  “No, mistress, even in your world its alchemic powers are the same. It will become whatever is needed by the person who holds it.”

  “That’s amazing!” I said as I looked at it closely.

  “But know this Youngling. If the holder of the dagger ever seeks to use it for their own selfish ends – instead of for the highest good of all – then it will cease to have any magical powers at all. It will become a useless hunk of metal.”

  “So basically use it for good, not evil. Got it.”

  “It’s more than use it for good, Miss Emily. Do not use if for your own selfish purpose. That is the key.”

  “Don’t be selfish. Okay, I can do that. Thank you, Hindergog. This truly is a wonderful surprise,” I said as I bent down to hug the little guy.

  Hindergog seemed a bit flustered and like he didn’t know what to do. Finally, he lightly patted my back with his furry hands.

  I let him go and he smoothed his vest and walked again.

  “Miss Emily is ready now to meet her master,” he said as more of a statement than a question.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” I agreed.

  For what I wasn’t sure.

  48. Emily’s Second Master

  “Miss Emily, I must leave you.”

  “You can’t leave me,” I whined. “I’m stuck in this blasted mist again. I need you to help me find my way.”

  “You must find your final master on your own,” he replied.

  “But how, Hindergog? You gotta’ give me some kind of clue.”

  “From your desire to learn all that you need to learn to fulfill your destiny. When you have that in your heart, your master will appear to you.”

  “I should know by now that nothing here is easy.”

  “’Tis quite easy if you concentrate. Just focus Miss Emily. I am away,” he said as he started to disappear into the mist.

  “Hindergog, wait! Will I see you again?”

  “You will see me again if the fates allow,” he said and then disappeared into the fog.

  What now? I stood there for a few minutes, not sure what to do next. Then I decided to focus on my task and began to walk again.

  I soon found myself rambling along rolling hills and green meadows, with stands of large oak and ash. There were little medieval cottages with straw-thatched roofs, and I walked on a path made of stones. It was a majestic place.

  As I walked I pondered my destiny. I had learned so much, but I still didn’t feel ready to face Dughall. I wasn’t sure what I needed to learn, but my time with Madame Wong had taught me that there was so much that I didn’t know – that I didn’t understand.

  As I pondered these things, my surroundings began to change. My stone path changed to a modern sidewalk. The small, medieval cottages replaced with Midwestern homes made of brick or clad in white siding.

  My pace quickened along with the beating of my heart. This sidewalk was all too familiar. Could it be?

  Up ahead a house. A house well known to me.

  I began to run and before long found myself at the front of my own house. But this wasn’t the house I’d left. No, this house had beautiful red petunias and sweet William growing in the flowerbeds. And there was a smell wafting from the house – the smell of chocolate chip pancakes and coffee and bacon.

  I practically leaped to the red door. Red, just as my mother had made it. My heart felt like a train rolling down a track in my chest. My throat was dry. I don’t think I could have spit if my life depended on it. My hand reached out to the doorknob. I hesitated a minute then slowly turned the knob and opened the door.

  I stepped inside and my feelings were confirmed. Muriel wasn’t here – at least not yet. Wherever I was – whenever I was – this was a place and time before Muriel entered the scene. The house was filled with color – the golden walls and the vibrant hues of my mom’s Technicolor paintings.

  I somehow found the voice to yell out, “Mom?” There was no answer.

  I walked from the front hallway to my left into the formal living r
oom. It was exactly as I remembered it from when my mom was alive. Nothing changed. But it was empty.

  Back out to the hallway and straight across from the formal living room into the dining room. It too was exactly the same – frozen in a time past. The large, round antique oak dining table and worn Oriental rug over the wood floor juxtaposed with my mom's large, brightly covered canvases. But that room was empty too. There wasn’t a sound in the place.

  But she had to be here! She just had to be. I followed the scent of the pancakes. The kitchen.

  I didn’t slow my pace, but my feet felt like they were walking in quicksand. As I walked through the kitchen door, there she was. Her back was to me, but I’d recognize that hair anywhere.

  “Mom!” I cried as I ran across the room to hug her.

  She turned to me. My heart nearly stopped. The woman looking at me was - my mother! Same golden red mane of wavy hair cascading down her shoulders. Same emerald green eyes. She smiled the same warm, embracing smile I remembered from my childhood.

  She wrapped her arms around me, and it should have been one of the most incredible moments ever but –

  “Wait, this isn’t right,” I said. “You have the face of my mother, but you are not my mother, are you?”

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I think you’re like a shadow of her. . . but you’re not real.”

  “You have been told that this is not the world of spirits.”

  “I know. . . I know. It’s just that. . . I want so badly to see her again. Why do you appear to me with her face? Why torture me with the sight of her?” I asked at the point of tears.

  “I torture you not, dear child. You see the face that you want to see. If it is torture, then it is you that torture yourself.”

  “Who are you then?”

  “I am the one your ancestors called Brighid.”

  “You are the goddess?” I asked incredulously.

  “I am a goddess to some,” she replied in a soft and melodic yet strong voice. It was strange. Even though her lips were moving, the voice seemed to come from someplace other than the body in front of me.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever really believed in God,” I said.

  “You are experiencing me here, now, with your senses. What do you believe now?”

  “My world has been turned so upside down ever since I first saw Hindergog. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  “That’s a fine answer Emily. Yes, keep your mind open – observe – consider. Answers will come to you in time.”

  “Goddess, I would like to see your true face. Can you show me who you truly are?”

  In that moment, her whole body and demeanor changed. She seemed to grow larger and yet at the same time less substantial – more a shimmery vision. Instead of the common clothes of a human in my time, she wore a long gown that seemed to skim her body yet be a part of it as well.

  But it was her face that caught my attention the most. Her face was my mother’s face, but then it was Saorla. As swiftly as it became Saorla, it changed yet again to another woman with auburn hair. Her face would stay one person for maybe a few minutes, no more, then swiftly morph to another woman’s face. There were women who looked much like Saorla and my mother, but there were others with dark hair and eyes. Some had dark skin, others had fair skin. At one point I even recognized the face of Madame Wong. I was glad to see the familiar visage that I had come so accustomed to. But as soon as I got excited, the face morphed yet again into another unknown woman. Each time this bizarre metamorphosis happened, the head of this being glowed a different color.

  “What happened to your face? Who are all these women? I wanted to see your true face.”

  “This is the true face of the goddess. Each woman from your world who has visited me here has envisioned me as she would. The goddess is created in the likeness of humans.”

  “Wild. I always thought we were created in the likeness of God. But Goddess, I want to see your true form – your true face. Please show me your natural state.”

  “My natural state is one that cannot be observed by your human senses,” she softly replied.

  I was totally mesmerized by Brighid. Her gown at first seemed like a silky material gently blown about her in a breeze that didn't exist. But the material – and that isn’t quite the right word for it – was like nothing in our world. It was as if someone had spun pure silver into a fabric then woven throughout it an iridescent material in shades of blue and turquoise and purple, then set the whole thing into motion. It was like she was wearing a shimmering iridescent liquid.

  Being in her presence made me feel content and at peace. I just wanted to stay there, with the Goddess, forever. There I was with a presence of pure love. There I could create anything I needed or desired. Why ever leave?

  “Emily, you will leave when the time is right. You cannot stay forever in the Netherworld.”

  “But why must I leave Goddess? Here – here I am in your presence and I feel a happiness and contentedness I have never felt before.”

  Her entire being became even brighter. Then she smiled and said, “Oh yes, and I enjoy your company too. I have always relished my time with your ancestors and the other humans who have found their way here. Such fascinating creatures, humans. Few of your kind realize the wondrous miracle that a human life is – to exist in your glorious bodies. Within those shells of water that house your Aman, you can create. And that – that is a rare gift.”

  “But we create here Goddess. In the Netherworld, I have created anything that I want.”

  “Here you can think and therefore conjure those things that you would like to have. But surely you must have noticed by now Emily that your creations here are but a pale comparison to the real thing in your own space and time.”

  I hadn’t thought about it before, but now that she said it, I realized it was true. I created chocolate chip pancakes in the Netherworld, but they lacked something. It wasn’t quite right.

  “I shall enjoy our time together, dear Emily, as I hope that you do as well. But your corporeal world needs you.”

  I had learned so much in the Netherworld, done so much, that at times, it was easy to forget why I was there and what I had left behind. At that moment, the faces of Fanny and Jake and even my dad came flooding into my mind’s eye.

  “I miss my friends,” I said with a tear coming to my eye. “I think I may even miss my dad.”

  “We shall begin your training then, dear one, so you may return to your world and those that you love.”

  “I have been here so long – or for just a few minutes – I can’t be sure. But in all this time, I honestly don’t understand exactly where I am. Am I in a dream?”

  “No, not a dream. Dreams you create in your own mind and are not shared with others. This we are experiencing together.”

  “It feels so dreamlike.”

  “The Netherworld – it is what your scientists might call a parallel world. If you think of space, your Earth and the Netherworld exist in the same space.”

  “What a mind trip! I’m not sure I understand it. Are there other worlds like this one?”

  “Oh there are many other realms though no two are exactly alike. Your world – your planet – it is a fairly rare occurrence in the great scheme of the web of all that is.”

  “People from Earth can go to these other worlds, like I’ve come here?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “But that’s another question. How exactly did I get here? What happened?”

  “Yes, these things seem difficult to humans. You were there, in your world, standing on what felt like solid ground. The next minute, you were here in an ephemeral world of mist and fog. You have these magnificent bodies with your ability to create and then fully experience through your senses the delights of your creations – or the horrors of your creations as the case may be. Your bodies and minds are incredible, but they also limit you as well.

  “Humans say ‘I have to s
ee it to believe it’. Instead, you must believe it before you can see it.”

  “Are you saying that I needed to believe in the Netherworld in order to come here?”

  “That is helpful, yes, to believe. If all humans believed, all could go anywhere they wanted. In order to come here, you had some help though.

  “The Sacred Well of your ancestors – it was sacred because it was known to be a place where what your ancestors called the ‘veil’ between our two worlds is thin. Your scientists may find that there is a higher level than usual of electromagnetic energy at the Sacred Well.”

  “I don’t think my ancestors knew anything about electromagnetic energy.”

  “Oh, they didn’t have those words for it, but they were more in touch with the unseen than modern humans. They could feel the same things you felt – the hair raising on their bodies, the tingling sensation. They knew there was a strange and magical energy in that place.

  “And the torc that you wear on your arm – that ancient object helped you to come here as well.”

  “The torc is magic then?”

  “Magic is your human word for it. It is no mistake that the torc is made of twisted, coiled gold.”

  “I never thought of it before, but it looks kind of like – a bundle of wires!”

  “There is a reason the transport objects for electricity in your world are made of coiled wire.”

  “So the torc is like a conductor?”

  “It helps the wearer to achieve the resonant frequency required to come to this realm.”

  “Goddess, you have revealed so many faces. Were you visited then by many humans?”

  “Yes, I enjoyed my interaction with humans for millennia.”

  “What happened?”

  “Humans changed.”

  “How so?”

  “They stopped believing. They stopped having faith. They want ‘proof’. Everything they must see with their eyes. All experiences come through their body now. They have lost touch with Akasha.”

  “Yes, I see what you mean. I didn’t know that before I came here. But now – seeing what I’ve seen – knowing what I know. . .”

  “That is it. Now you know, not just see.”