by Lucia Ashta
When they arrived, Carla went to park while Paolo jumped out of the car and made a beeline for the Alitalia counter, saying a silent prayer that he could find a flight. Fortune was on his side as a last minute cancellation had opened a seat on a flight that was about to begin boarding. Carla showed up at the counter as her brother was handing over his credit card.
Paolo had only a few minutes before he had to clear airport security. He turned to his older sister, with whom he’d never been very close. Angela and Paolo had been inseparable, and when she died, Paolo kept everyone at a distance to protect himself; he didn’t think he could survive another loss like Angela’s. Even so, Paolo got along with all of his family members, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent any significant amount of time with Carla where it was just the two of them.
She reached out to touch her brother’s arm. “It’ll be okay. It has to be if this woman and you are meant to be together. God has already chosen you for each other. Hold the faith.”
Paolo looked at Carla with gratitude in his eyes. Her encouraging words helped. His older sister seemed to have matured in the four years since he last saw her. He hadn’t known she could be this wise.
“Grazie, Carla.” It was important for Paolo to remember how strong his faith was. Creator was truly miraculous so he turned his thoughts to prayer. God, please keep Lena safe. I’m coming to save her. He had this last thought unintentionally, but as soon as the thought was out—I’m coming to save her—he knew that it was true. He was on his way to save Lena—from what, he didn’t know, but he would do whatever it took. God, just keep her safe until I can get there.
“What’s she like?”
“She’s wonderful. I can feel her soul, and it’s a match to mine.”
“Paolo, that’s amazing. I’m happy for you.” Then she added, “I wish I had that.”
He looked at her. “I thought you were happy with Stefano.”
“I am, but I don’t feel that Stefano is the match of my soul. I love him. He loves me. We love our children. We have a happy life together. But I think I could have that with several people, not just him. I think maybe there are several of us in this life for each other. Maybe it’s not just one person. Maybe we can be happy with many.”
Paolo shook his head no. “Perhaps for you, Carla. For me, there’s only her. There’s no other. She was made for me by God.”
Paolo saw tears in Carla’s eyes.
“Call her again, Paolo.”
Paolo dialed. Lena, pick up, pick up, pick up. I love you. Pick up. Still, there was no answer. He’d stopped leaving messages after having left so many. Lena’s phone rang across an ocean, vibrating on the night side table, moving an inch each time Paolo called. This time when Paolo called, the phone fell to the floor and popped open.
Chapter 38
Asara dove into the water of the River Haakal. It was always to the water that she retreated when she needed to replenish herself. The water reminded her of the calming security of the womb. Within her mother’s womb, all of her needs had been taken care of, and she had no responsibilities. Now, though she was grateful to Creator for the life gifted to her, it carried a great responsibility. There were important things she must do in this lifetime. Though she did her best not to focus on the weight of this duty, it was present nonetheless. And on those days when Asara couldn’t help but feel the enormity of what she and Anak were to accomplish, the comfort of the womb-like water was a welcome refuge.
Asara and Anak were now twenty-two. They were much the same as they’d been as children of thirteen when they first met. The same vitality coursed through them, the same zest for life. But the greater wisdom that lived within them shone in their eyes and Kaanra, who knew them well, could sense the toll that their life purpose had taken on them. Kaanra knew it could be a heavy burden to carry, but he never heard them complain. He was as proud of them as if they were children of his own flesh. Though Kaanra knew Asara longer than Anak, he’d grown to love them both equally. The twins lived firmly within the recesses of Kaanra’s heart.
As Asara and Anak matured and learned the skills they needed to fulfill their purpose on earth, the messages from their spirit guides grew stronger. Lately, they’d become urgent, informing them of battles between the forces of light and darkness being waged just outside the realm of ordinary human consciousness. They were at a crossroads. Their instincts pricked in alertness at times when they could see no physical reason for it. And they knew; they sensed without sight that dangers were intensifying.
The messages they received became as insistent as they were consistent, The time is now. The twins accepted with anxious anticipation that they’d soon be called upon to step into their roles of light warriors. They didn’t know exactly what would be asked of them, but their guides had shown them enough to realize that much would be expected of them in addition to their light emissions in the pyramids.
Over the last several months, the twins felt the need to emit light within the pyramids more regularly, and they incorporated daily visits to them. The requirement for light on the planet was increasing.
Asara was unprepared to participate in a battle, whether etheric or worldly. She felt a pressing need to ready herself and wanted to learn anything that would help her meet unknown challenges. For several weeks, she asked the angels to prepare her for what lay ahead. After waiting patiently, they presented her with a sword.
It was a double-edged sword made of a strong metal she didn’t recognize. Though swords were relatively common in her land, she’d never touched one. She’d focused her energy on peaceful pursuits. Although the skill of sword fighting was taught at the temples for those who wanted to learn, she’d never felt drawn to it before. Now, she held a sword for the first time and was being urged to use it.
The angels worked through someone in the community to get the sword to her. She wasn’t surprised. She understood that every person and every situation could be a link in the chain of divine action. Makalah, a man that Asara admired for his strength of wisdom and spiritual understanding, presented her with his sword. She’d seen Makalah several times throughout the years. On every occasion she encountered him, he greeted her with a silent nod and with peaceful knowing in his eyes. That made him very memorable to her, though they’d never exchanged words.
On this day, Makalah did speak with her. Asara learned that Makalah had used the sword in battle many times, always fighting for light to prevail. Makalah, accustomed to receiving messages from the angels, followed their instruction without question. He found her and presented her with his sword. It glistened and appealed to the notion of idealism that surrounded battle in Asara’s inexperienced mind. But even without having seen fighting firsthand, She knew that the reality of battle differed vastly from the way it was idealized and presented to the people.
The sword was long and slender, sharpened to a precise point. Though she was amazed at the ease she felt with the sword, she didn’t know how to hold or work with it. She could have found someone to train her, even at the temple, but she wanted to learn on her own, just as she did with most of her other training.
She began to work with the sword that very same day. At first, she held it in a fighting stance, repeated to herself, “I am an angel warrior,” and put it down. After a few days of this simple practice, she began to swing it. Moving beyond her awkwardness of the beginning, she learned how to move with it more fluidly.
It was very different from anything else she’d ever worked with, but she resisted the temptation to reach out to another for instruction. Even Anak had been working with swords for several years and would have taught her how to wield it, but she remained convinced it was necessary to develop the skill on her own. It was part of her process. A valuable sense of empowerment would surely come from her finding her own sense of comfort and connection to the ways of the sword.
After several weeks of familiarizing herself with it, she enclosed herself within a small, rarely used courtyard at t
he temple. It was private. She brandished the sword and swung it. Her confidence in moving with it grew.
Soon, she was swinging the sword to both sides, advancing as she did. Asara became fully aware of the grace of her figure. Her body had been lean as a child. As a young woman, it was still slender, but it had changed. It now possessed a feminine voluptuousness. She was athletic and capable of performing great physical feats, yet she had all the curves of womanhood. She moved forward with the sword as a splendid female warrior.
Well before her introduction to the sword, Anak had been practicing with one. He also learned to use a staff and a bow and arrow, tools common to the warriors of their time. Although Arnaka enjoyed peace with its neighbors across the sea, as a precaution, warriors were instructed every generation.
Anak had become a strong warrior not only due to his physical training, but because he continued to focus on his spiritual instruction as well. That gave him inner integrity, for a warrior held his true strength within his heart. Anak anchored the light and love within just as strongly as Asara did. Together, they were becoming skilled warriors of light.
Chapter 39
Lena stared off into the distance, toward orange mountains dotted by cacti and other spiny plants, until her mind wandered back to why she’d fled the room. She’d torn the note into pieces and thrown it in the trash, hoping the inn’s cleaning staff would discard it so she’d never have to see it again. Did the note mean she’d never see Paolo either?
Lena had been so certain of Paolo; she’d believed with all of her heart that she’d found the man with whom she was meant to share her life. But they wouldn’t lead a life together as she’d hoped. She’d been foolish. She’d allowed herself to fall in love with a man she’d just met. All she knew was what he’d told her. Still she felt as if she’d known him. She’d really believed that she knew his heart. Could her heart have been so easily deceived?
Lena didn’t have the answer to any of her questions. Her thoughts kept going back and forth in a torrent of fresh emotions. Paolo was married. He’d been cheating on his wife with Lena; Lena was the unwitting mistress. If this was the kind of man Paolo was, one that lied and cheated on his wife, then he would probably never come back to see Lena.
How could her discernment have been so wrong? She screamed in anguish, frustrated with everything, with life itself. The echo of her cry rang out over the mountains where it was received without judgment.
Two dark ravens flew above her, swooping around each other as if playing in flight. Lena couldn’t make sense of anything. Her mind was all over the place; it was in direct conflict with her breaking heart. Unbidden, the words of the note floated back to convince her that her heart couldn’t have been right.
Paolo, I know you’ve betrayed me. I received a photo of you with your mistress. I’m heartbroken as the children will be. You’ve left me with no option but to see you in court.
Teresa
Someone knocked on the door of the room early that morning. By the time Lena got out of bed to answer the door, no one was there, but she found an envelope from a private detective agency leaning against the door. The envelope was sealed and addressed to Paolo, but she opened it assuming it concerned his sister. Two seconds after she tore open the envelope, her face and spirit plummeted.
She’d read the note but once. It was enough to sear the accusing words into her memory. She could recall every word, even after hours of hiking and trying to forget. She still didn’t feel how she thought she should. She thought she should be angry, possessed of a how-dare-you-disrespect-me-like-this attitude, but instead she felt a sense of loss, of disappointment. For the first time in her adult life, she believed real love had finally arrived. She thought she’d stumbled into a fairy tale, and allowed herself to believe that such things really did exist.
Now, she let go of those unspoken promises she’d thought she heard voiced in Paolo’s eyes. She would accept that Paolo was a husband, and father to another woman’s children. A stout breeze picked up her dream of being with Paolo. Her hopes swirled among the crevices of the red mountains, and the wind carried them away as the ravens cawed a farewell goodbye.
Chapter 40
Asara continued to train with the sword in private. She considered it not just a tool for fighting, but a token of power with the capacity to reveal its secrets to the pure of heart. She and this powerful sword learned to flow together.
She had great respect for the sword. It could easily take life, and life and death were best left to the will of Creator. The killing of another being was a grave responsibility, and Asara didn’t want to be in a situation where she had to choose death for another. Nevertheless, she was committed to fully preparing herself for whatever the darkness might bring to cross her path, and she was certain that, if it became necessary, she could end another’s life. She didn’t fear her own death. Rather, she accepted it as a natural occurrence in the cycle of life. She knew that, upon her death, her essence would leave her human body and return to its angelic form. So it was with a solemn sense of duty that Asara trained tirelessly with the sword. And she prayed fervently for her will to be aligned with that of Creator.
She grew to love her sword. It had beautiful etchings on it that shimmered in the light. Makalah engraved the sword himself once he learned of its ultimate purpose. The markings were in an angel language that Asara found familiar but couldn’t read. Makalah told her that the inscription read, “Sword of Asara. Sword of Awakening.”
Asara sewed a sheath for the sword using the most beautiful cloth she could find. The fabric was tightly woven and strong. It had been dyed a deep violet color with the plants that grew on the banks of the river. That color was meaningful to her because of its origin at the water’s edge. The river, that she felt so connected to, gave life to the fabric.
She wrapped the cloth around the old leather sheath Makalah had given her. She then painstakingly embroidered a pattern of flowers in bright reds and gold all around the edges of the fabric. She sewed in a meditative state that expressed her appreciation for the sword. She didn’t realize it, but it was this very act of gratitude and exchange of energy in the many hours she spent creating the embellishment that gave her additional protection. That thankfulness given from the heart bound the sword to her with a stronger sense of fealty.
The very night that Asara felt in her heart that she’d finally achieved mastery with her sword, Archangel Michael visited her in her dreams. It was in this state that Asara could see him most easily, when she relaxed preconceived notions of how the physical world worked. In the dream state, she was able to see past her waking limitations and open herself to new realities.
Archangel Michael presented Asara with another sword, a very different one. This sword was etheric. Unattuned human eyes couldn’t see it as it came directly from the heavens. This was Asara’s sword from the angelic realm. It was as tall as she was in her angelic form, so it was several inches taller than she stood in her human body. This heavenly sword emanated a strong, blue light; it was long and sleek, and it issued power and spiritual mastery. It also had engravings in the language of the angels, which Asara couldn’t read. She hadn’t transferred the knowledge to read these familiar markings into this earthly incarnation.
Archangel Michael presented the sword, aware that Asara may not bring it into the physical plane. He stood before her in a glow of fiery coral-colored light—the color of sunset. His wings were fully spread out, and his feet hovered slightly above the ground. His light was so bright that it should have hurt her eyes, but she could see the archangel clearly behind the light. Even in sleep, she smiled, enraptured.
When Archangel Michael handed her the sword, she thanked him without words. He passed the sword pointing down, with its hilt parallel to her shoulders, at the source of her wings. She received it, bowing her head.
As soon as the sword was firmly in her grasp, Asara turned it in one quick motion, so that she held it upright as she had many times before in battl
e. Right away, she understood what she had to do, and she willed the etheric essence of her angelic sword to merge with the sword that Makalah had given her. Now that she had accessed her etheric sword, the sword of an angel warrior, she could call on its energy at will in the physical world.
As Archangel Michael’s presence in the state of dreams, halfway between the etheric realm and the earthly world, began to fade, he told her, “You now hold the sword of Asara, the sword of awakening, the sword of reckoning.” And as Archangel Michael vanished from the earth plane, she understood what the engravings on the sword said.
Asara woke abruptly, resolutely in her body. She looked at the sword next to her bedside. It glinted with a faint blue light that she suspected only she could see.
Chapter 41
Lena walked down the mountain, trying to come up with a plan. What should she do now? She’d come to Sedona after spinning a globe in a bookstore, and although that might seem arbitrary to most, foolish even, Lena was certain she was destined to be there. She worked at composing herself. She wouldn’t allow a disappointing love affair to destroy her joy—her heart. She wouldn’t let a man rob her of her faith in the wonder of life.
So what should she do? Where could she go for help? The answer arrived immediately. Victor. She didn’t know anyone in Sedona, but she’d met Victor, and he seemed like a good person to call on in the world that was beginning to unfold for her.
She raced all the way back to the room, jumping over rocks and shrubs, feeling vital and alive. Her mind unburdening as she gave herself to the animal sensation of running free. She reached the room out of breath, and noticed her phone on the floor. Seventeen missed calls, all from Paolo. He must have learned that Lena knew about his wife. If Paolo had gone to Rome to be with her, his sister’s supposed car accident just a pretense, then he must have found his wife irate with proof that he was betraying her.