Western Luvelles
The Source’s Cave
Inside the Cracked Eye of Magic
FELLOW SOUL … IF YOU DON’T REMEMBER, Shalee wandered through the haze inside the Eye of Magic for 2 Peaks before three figures appeared who were surrounded by bright lights. After the glow surrounding each faded, the queen was able to see who was left behind, and the realization of who was standing before her gave her hope. Helga and BJ had not been lost to her after all.
The Queen of Brandor had gasped on that Peak. “Oh my heavens,” were the first words out of her mouth, and then she fell to her knees. She was quick to place her head on Helga’s abdomen. “Helga … is it really you?”
Helga’s smile had been unmistakable as the older sorceress’ lips widened. “Hello, Child. Did you miss me?”
And as if Helga’s presence was not wonderful enough, another voice, a grumpier voice added, “What about me? I’m also standing here.”
Shalee stood to face BJ, and then rushed into his arms. Her excitement was evident by her response. “Of course, I missed you. Don’t be silly, Grumpy Guss. Sam is going to have a corgan when he hears that you’re alive. He hasn’t been the same without you.”
But Shalee’s excitement was short lived. A third figure had approached. This powerful being placed his right hand on Shalee’s shoulder and turned her to face him. His voice was familiar, and he spoke with authority. “The moments have come for you to create a Heaven for this plane of existence, Shalee. Only then can you return to the worlds.”
A moment later, Bassorine placed his hands on top of Shalee’s head. She then slept for 3 Peaks.
Fellow soul … BJ and Helga’s souls were left to wait inside a spacious, but rickety shack in an unknown location for Shalee, now a witch, to wake up. After their reunion, Bassorine removed BJ and Helga’s spirits from their temporary bodies that he had restored for the purpose of their greeting. They were ghosts and would remain that way even after Shalee came around.
“BJ … come here. I think she’s going to wake.”
As BJ floated above the dirt floor of the shack, Helga admired Shalee’s blonde hair. Helga’s soul was sitting on a crate next to a shallow, mattress-covered cot the young witch was lying on.
“Wake up, Child. Wake up.”
“Leave her alone,” BJ growled. “She has gone through her share of awful moments. She doesn’t need you hovering over her. The poor girl is going to experience even more of them once she sees us in this condition.”
Helga looked up. “Hush! Her moments will not be awful.”
BJ shrugged. “I disagree.”
Helga’s eyes narrowed. “I said hush! She’ll be happy to see us.”
A short series of moments passed before Helga sighed. “Three Peaks is more than enough sleep.” The sorceress stood from the crate and moved close to BJ. Her ghostly face softened. “Just because we’re no longer made of flesh … doesn’t mean we should bark at one another. You know I still long for you.”
BJ’s eyes dropped. “I wish he would’ve allowed me to touch you again. I miss that.” He looked at the dirt floor a few paces away. “If I could spit to show you my frustration, I would. I know Bassorine has his reasons for us being here, but I feel cursed. I don’t feel whole. I wish he’d explain why he did this.”
“Perhaps self-murder angers him,” Helga reasoned. She paused. “But I’ve done nothing to anger Bassorine ... yet I suffer as you do.”
BJ reached out to comfort his love, but his right hand passed through Helga’s left shoulder. He growled, “This is frustrating. Only 3 Peaks ago, Shalee placed her head against your belly. Now we can no longer feel the joy of her embrace. Why does he punish us?”
“Stop it! You’ll make me cry, and you know the tears won’t come.”
To change the subject, Helga pointed across the shack to a group of cabinets that started to the right of the door and ended against the far wall. “Since there’s nothing we can do about it, perhaps you could help me.” She looked back at Shalee. “At least he has allowed us to touch the objects in the room. Let’s use this gift to make our child something to eat. She’ll be famished.”
Sitting in front of the cabinets against the far wall was a wooden barrel that had been filled with water. It was taller than BJ and had a diameter that spanned the width of the ex-trainer’s shoulders, multiplied by three. To the right of the barrel, at a safe distance, was an iron stove. Beyond the stove, stacked to the ceiling, was a pile of wood that ran the length of the wall, some four paces to the back of the shack. This wall was mostly clear of objects, except for a tall dressing mirror that looked out of place. The mirror tilted on an ornate stand that sat on the dirt floor near the center of the wall. A pace or so to the right of the mirror, a square table had been shoved in the corner with one of its sides pressed against the shack.
The sorceress floated back to the crate while BJ hovered over to the cabinets that had been filled with non-perishables. After opening the door, he stood still for a long series of moments while he stared at its contents.
“Well?” Helga inquired. “Are you just going to stand there? They won’t fix themselves.”
“There’s nothing worth fixing.”
The former sorceress frowned. “Men are so helpless!”
Before Helga could say anything else, Shalee’s arms lifted to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Helga cleared her throat to capture BJ’s attention and then whispered, “Hurry up. She’s stirring.”
Shalee removed her hands. As she did, Helga’s smiling face came into view. The witch tried to talk, but the dryness in her throat stopped her.
Helga lifted from the crate and floated over to the barrel. Grabbing a mug, she opened the tap near the bottom and filled it before she returned. “Drink, Child.”
The witch sat up and did as she was told. After the fourth gulp, she exhaled, “Ahhhhh ... that’s delicious.” A moment later, a look of disbelief appeared on Shalee’s face. “Is it really you, Helga?” She reached up to touch her old teacher, but her hand passed through Helga’s face.
Shalee squealed, “Goodness-gracious! What’s wrong with you? Am I dreaming? I can see you, but I can’t feel you. You look pasty.”
Helga giggled. “You’re not dreaming, Child. I’m here … or at least my soul is here.” She pointed across the room. “BJ is here, too. We don’t know much other than Bassorine has put us in this shack with you. We don’t possess bodies anymore, and we’ve been instructed to watch over you and take care of you until he returns.”
“Well, that sucks.” Shalee threw her feet off the side of the cot and then rummaged her toes through the dirt. “Why am I not shocked? Leave it to Bassorine to not explain anything.”
Shalee’s belly growled. She grabbed it. “Goodness-gracious! Did you hear that? I think I’m fixin’ to starve to death.”
A clanking sound filled the room as BJ sat a pot of water on the stove to boil. “Your dinner will be ready soon enough.”
Shalee’s brows lifted. “How can he touch the pot if we can’t touch each other? Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
BJ answered. “Don’t ask us. Ask Bassorine.”
Shalee sighed. “Well that just chaps my hide. This reminds me of when I arrived on Grayham. I was just as lost on that Peak. I guess it’s no big shocker that Bassorine has something to do with this.”
BJ grumbled, “Stop complaining.” He pointed to the entrance of the shack. “There’s a change of clothes hanging on the hooks next to the door. Perhaps you should clean up and then put them on. Though we cannot smell you, I’d wager you stink after sleeping so many Peaks.”
Helga glared across the room. “She has only just woken. Leave her be, and show some compassion.”
BJ shrugged. “What did I say?”
Shalee had to laugh. “Yep, y’all are here alright. Bodies or not, your arguments are still the same. I bet Sam would be happy as a lark if he saw the two of you poking at one another.”
The witch sto
od from the bed and walked to the door. She unlatched the lock and then opened it. Beyond the threshold, there was nothing but darkness. Shalee stood at the edge of the frame, extended her hand and commanded the darkness to dissipate, but nothing happened.
“Interesting,” Shalee remarked. “Helga, come over here for a moment.”
The older sorceress floated across the room. As she did, Shalee’s eyes widened. “That’s just creepy. You’re like a ghost or some kind of spirit.”
“I know, Child. What’s worse, we won’t be able to high-five one another.”
BJ grumbled. “It was a childish act anyway!”
Helga ignored the comment and looked out the door. A moment later, she looked over her shoulder toward BJ. “At least we know what’s on the other side now.” Helga looked back at Shalee. “We tried to open it, but we couldn’t touch the lock. Bassorine must have had something to do with that as well.” The older sorceress grabbed her chin in thought. “Perhaps if you had your staff, you’d be able to command the darkness to dissipate.”
Shalee looked around the room. When she did not see Precious, she questioned. “Did Bassorine not leave it behind?” Helga shook her head. “No, Child. You didn’t have it with you. I don’t know where it is.”
The witch frowned and then faced the darkness. She lifted her hand, and without thinking, she shouted in the language of the Ancient Mystics. Startled, Shalee allowed the light that burst from the palm of her hand to dissipate, and then she cupped her hands over her mouth. She held Helga’s gaze for a brief series of moments before she said, “What in tarnation did I just say? I sounded like I was speaking in tongues.”
Helga’s face wrinkled. “Speaking in tongues, Child? What do you mean by that?”
“Must be another of her Earth expressions,” BJ quipped.
Again, Helga ignored BJ. “I’m sure Bassorine will explain when he gets back.” She looked toward the darkness. “Try it again, Child, but don’t allow the power to fade.”
Shalee extended her hand. She tried to remember the words, but they would no longer come to her. The witch dropped her arm to her side. “Sam-hill! I guess I don’t know what to say. It’s like my brain is all boggled up.”
Before they could resolve Shalee’s bewilderment, Bassorine appeared at the center of the shack. He was wearing a pure-white robe with a hood that cast a shadow over his face. Through openings in the back of his robe, a pair of glorious wings—the white wings of an angel—the powerful wings of his true self—lay folded against his back.
Without addressing those present, Bassorine opened the front of his robe and removed a large, thick, leather-bound tome. He walked to the back corner of the room and placed the ancient book on the table that sat in the corner some four paces beyond the end of the cot.
Turning from the table, Bassorine walked toward the witch. “You spoke in the language of the Ancient Mystics. For the last 3 Peaks, I’ve been teaching you through dreams while you slept. You’re very powerful, though you do not understand your full potential right now.”
The angel turned and pointed to the book. “That tome will be a source of reference until you’re ready to return to the worlds.”
Shalee queried, “What kind of power are you talking about?”
“You are witch, Shalee.”
Shalee placed her hands on her hips. “Who do you think you’re talking to, buddy? Don’t you be calling me a witch. Just because you have wings doesn’t mean I won’t put my foot up your backside.”
Bassorine smiled as he pulled back his hood. The scar that had run across his right eye and ended at the corner of his mouth was gone, and his skin was flawless. “I didn’t call you a witch, Shalee. I said, you are witch.”
“Hmpf, big difference,” Shalee rebutted. “Sounds the same to me.”
Bassorine frowned. “I assure you, there is a difference. You have surpassed the power of an ordinary sorceress.” The angel looked at Helga. “Not that your moments as a sorceress were not put to good use while on Grayham, but Shalee’s power has exceeded simple uses of magic.”
Bassorine redirected his gaze. “Shalee, you have the ability to summon power even beyond witch. To do so, you must master the language of the Ancient Mystics, then the Swayne Enserad. Beyond that, you must become fluent in the language of the Titans.”
Shalee’s brows dropped between her eyes. “And how do you expect me to do all that?”
“As I have said, I taught you in your sleep. You’ve spoken in the language of the Ancient Mystics once already. You must learn to think it and then progress to the Swayne Enserad.”
Shalee tapped her foot against the dirt floor. “I bet you think that sounds easy. What else are you going to throw at me?”
Bassorine scowled. “It has been more than a million seasons, and yet you never change. Even in this body, you still speak to me the way you did when we first met. But I suppose that matters not.”
Crossing his arms, the angel changed the subject. “Before I allow you to return to the worlds, you must surpass the power of the Titans and then ascend without the help of those who claim to be gods.”
Hearing Bassorine’s mandate, Shalee looked at Helga. The older woman shrugged. “Don’t look at me, Child.”
Bassorine turned to walk back to the table.
Shalee was quick to follow. “Hold on just a cotton-pickin’ moment, mister. You can’t just say something like that and then act like you never said it. A million seasons is a long series of moments. You best start sharing some more info.”
The angel pulled out a chair from the side of the table and motioned for Shalee to sit. Once the witch was comfortable, he pulled out a chair of his own, parted his wings and then took a seat. As he leaned forward, his expression became far more serious. “1,743,465 seasons, 243 Peaks, 7 hours and 14 minutes ago was when we first met, Shalee. Your real name … a name once glorified … was Anahita.”
“‘Anahita?’” Shalee reiterated. “Have you gone bonkers? I don’t think you’ve got the right—”
Bassorine extended his hand and put a finger across Shalee’s lips. “Be silent.”
Shalee tried to argue, but she was no longer able to speak. A moment later, Bassorine continued. “As I have said, your name was Anahita. You were my wife.”
Stunned by the angel’s revelation, BJ and Helga floated toward the table while Shalee’s eyes widened. BJ sat a hot bowl of porridge in front of Shalee, or rather, Anahita, as Bassorine continued. “My beautiful Anahita, you were once known throughout the heavens as the Angel of Fertility. You kept the Earth fruitful and multiplying as well as many other worlds.
“But what those who lived on these worlds did not know was that Lucifer wanted you for himself. He had already fallen from grace, and yet, he still pursued your affections. Sadly, he found a way to win your heart. You abandoned your love for me, and once you did, you, too, fell from grace and joined those who followed the Morning Star out of Heaven.
“It was not until after my father fulfilled his promise to create a new Heaven and a new Earth that you and I were reunited. Tragically, this reunion had to happen in the bowels of my brother’s Lake of Fire. I convinced our father to allow me and two others to suffer an undeserved torment, and in doing so, we were commanded to provide an opportunity to those who would choose to be saved.
“As for the others who assisted me, those whom I will not disclose during these moments, they charged with me into the Lake of Fire, and we suffered for many seasons before we found an exit. This escape was hidden at the bottom of the lake’s depths.”
Struggling with the memories of their torment, Bassorine had to pause to collect himself. The angel used the left sleeve of his robe to wipe a tear out of the corner of his eye. Eventually, Bassorine calmed himself and refocused. “Everything you know, Anahita … everything you were told inside the Temple of the Gods the Peak you awoke on Grayham, and beyond that Peak, has been a lie. You are not from Texas … nor did you live on Earth. Your memories are false. T
hey were bestowed upon you. You never lived as a human until the Peak your eyes opened on Grayham.”
Bassorine stopped talking. Anahita tried to speak, but the angel lifted his hand to silence her as he looked up and closed his eyes. A long series of moments passed before he lowered them back to Anahita’s. “I have been summoned. My father calls for me. I have found my way back to his plane of existence, and I must go for now.
“But before I leave, know this truth: BJ, Helga and you, Anahita, are one. Each of you is a piece of one soul that was split during a great battle that happened on this plane. Before I leave, your pieces will be rejoined, and your soul will become whole once again.”
Bassorine leaned forward and caressed Anahita’s cheek. “I’ve missed you so. There’s a way for us to be together again … if you’ll have me. But first, you must create a Heaven for this plane. Once this has been accomplished, you must reclaim your former glory. For when you do, you shall become far more powerful than the mightiest being on Ancients Sovereign.”
A deep longing appeared on Bassorine’s face as he looked into the depths of Anahita’s questioning eyes. BJ and Helga hung on his every word as they hovered closer. “My eternal love, you once called me by my true name. I desperately want it to be that way again. When next we meet, I ask you to consider calling me … Michael.”
Michael allowed Anahita a moment to process. “Remember … you must find your way back to our father’s house. For the love of our father is eternal … even now. Even beyond my brother’s Lake of Fire, our father has allowed those of us who would suffer needlessly to pass through the fire to this plane of existence. Our commission: do what we must to search for the good in those condemned, and provide them a place of reprieve. For if we do, we will be allowed to return home.”
The archangel stood from the table and moved to the center of the room. He motioned for Anahita to come to him.
BJ and Helga remained silent as Anahita stood to fulfill Michael’s wish.
Reaching out, Michael pulled Anahita close. With his left hand cupped beneath her chin, he lifted her head. Anahita melted into his arms as the archangel’s soft lips took her breath away. The passion filling their moments far exceeded the deepest kiss she was capable of remembering.
The Tear of Gramal Page 17