The Black Madonna (The Mystique Trilogy)

by Traci Harding

  ‘I want you to stay right here,’ I said, pointing to the spot where he stood.

  ‘I can’t wait in there somewhere?’ He nodded towards the crystal structure, sounding hopeful.

  ‘You’re not supposed to be here at all,’ I pointed out. ‘I can’t stress enough how important your cooperation is.’

  ‘All right.’ Emmett dropped to sit cross-legged on the ground to wait for me. ‘What happens if you don’t come back?’

  I turned and made for the crystal structure. ‘I’ll be back.’

  ‘Famous last words,’ I heard him say behind me.

  Still, I was confident that once I’d fully activated the Triogenes pyramid, this vital Signet station would be secure. I would erase Emmett’s memory of these events before we returned to the site camp, and all would be well with the world. I did have the slight problem of getting past the Dracon forces that would no doubt be blocking our return route, but my friends in Amenti could help me with that.

  I followed the earthen pathway through the outer crystal matrix of Meridan station. These mighty crystal clusters were surface conductors that drew down the vital Blue Flame energy that the station siphoned from the Blue Flame of Amenti via the primary Signet substation at Giza. Thus, pure love force was directed into the Earth’s natural energy matrix, subtly lifting the vibrational energy of the planet. Every time one of these Signet stations came online, massive advancements were made in human consciousness with giant breakthroughs in science, medicine, the political arena, the arts and so forth. As I moved along this familiar path I marvelled at what effects my work this day might have on the planet at large.

  I had been here before—the first time many aeons ago, when Meridan oversaw the construction of this Signet station; and again when my spirit walked the Halls of Amenti. Yet this was the first time I had physically moved through the structure and I felt an overwhelming sense of ‘coming home’—or at least somewhere very close to home. When I emerged from the crystal cavern and the main structure of the Signet station rose high before me, the tears of pride and wonder that had been moistening my eyes overflowed; I had never felt so filled with happiness and purpose.

  Each Signet station was a personal reflection of the Amenti staff member and the interstellar council leader that guarded and protected it. Back on Tara, Meridan had been a highly acclaimed etheric architect. My partner, Arcturus, was an etheric engineer; I designed structures and he dealt with their construction. My previous profession was reflected in the glowing white structure before me, for this was the only Signet station whose structure incorporated etheric matter. The outer walls and roof were made of a dense etheric substance, which was so illuminated that it was opaque, and through the white shot periodic waves of rainbow colour. The inner walls and floor were tiled white to match the towering walls, archways and arched windows. The aesthetic had a purpose, for although at present the building looked like a beautiful, majestic cathedral, at my will it would mould into an impenetrable fortress.

  The advantage of building with etheric matter was that as it was the basic underlying substance of all matter within the planes of existence of this universal matrix, it could be manipulated to resonate at any frequency from the lowest density through to the physical, astral, mental and causal frequencies of the higher planes of existence. To have mastery over etheric matter was to have mastery over the quantum world. I knew I possessed this capability—I had just used it to open the gateway to this station—yet it was a talent I had been afraid to unleash upon the physical world. In truth, I feared abusing Meridan’s power; and yet I knew I must start to explore it if I was to master and use it for the benefit of the Amenti Project.

  I moved through my station, each room lighting up as I approached. The chambers were filled with editions of the most revered and inspirational tales of the ages, some already written, some yet to be, each stored in the medium most suited to the age of its earthly creation. For the leader of the Council of Aramatena was Triogenes, the greatest storyteller, who had inspired both the heroes of legend and the scribes who had penned their deeds. Signet Station Twelve was a storehouse for the many works of Triogenes that were, at the appointed time, automatically deposited into the psyches of worthy scribes throughout the ages. These had been placed within Meridan station before the Triogenes pyramid had been taken offline; so even though Triogenes was no longer directly connected to the Earth, his inspirational work here continued. My heart rejoiced at the realisation that today I would meet the great Triogenes himself.

  As each Signet station was unique to its guardians, so was each control centre; this meant that only the Amenti staff member assigned to each particular station understood how it functioned. The control centre of Meridan station was suspended in the middle of a deep dark chasm of crystals, accessible via a long bridge. I stepped onto the bridge from the station house, unable to see anything beyond the windows that lined its passageway.

  Upon my approach, the doors to the control centre parted before me, the interior flooded with light and the window shields raised, illuminating the chasm beyond. This chamber, like the rest of Meridan station, was entirely white, for that was the light colour frequency to which the Triogenes pyramid resonated. Reflecting its architect’s taste, Meridan station was simple and elegant—white tiled floor, white walls, three huge white retractable shields that could be used to protect the curved windows of the rounded-off, triangular, pod-like chamber. In the centre of the chamber floor was what appeared to be a circular pool of ice.

  I stepped up to the telepathic control panel to one side of the circular pool and, placing my hands upon it, gave the command to draw down the Triogenes pyramid from its dormant exile beyond the Earth’s atmosphere. This event would activate the porthole of liquid light, granting me access to the station’s guardian council and all the other stations in the Signet Grid—including those still inactive.

  But the first place this porthole would take me was to stand before the Council of Aramatena for verification.

  Above me, the huge etheric glistening white pyramid descended through the chasm, sending electric emissions shooting through the crystals on the cavern walls.

  Shafts of brilliant white light began to cut through the solid surface of the porthole in the floor, turning its hard veneer to a pool of white liquid light, which swirled towards its centre to form a funnel of light.

  I approached the stargate knowing I would soon be in another dimensional realm, in a distant part of our galaxy. Yet I felt no fear, nor even excitement; only a calm sense of duty as I took a running leap into the void.

  CHAPTER 8

  INTER-DIMENSIONAL TERRORISM

  I plummeted headlong through the swirling, light-filled vortex and then stopped abruptly. I was still and had form, but the light mass surrounding me continued to swirl and change shape. Although I could not define it, I was aware of having entered a structure that was, to my limited perception, structureless. Within this void I sensed the presence of other light-beings, as formless as their surroundings. I felt insecure, my psyche overwhelmed by the limitlessness of this place, and yet the love I sensed radiating through me was immense.

  She was overwhelmed, our heroine, said a masculine voice, the words coming from all around me. She felt the need to construct, for here was all this wonderful high-quality etheric matter to manipulate, and she was an etheric architect by trade, with a high reputation to uphold.

  Yes, I replied. But I fear offending my hosts with the need to accommodate my insecurities and my desire for form.

  Deep inside, Meridan realised that such base emotions and reactions cannot exist in a higher harmonic universe, the voice pointed out. These were causal beings whom she addressed, who existed purely to put her will into effect; her imagination was their inspiration and her comfort and happiness their highest priority. For she was a master architect of the Elohim and her will was the command of every being of Aramatena.

  This was a challenge to prove I was who I claimed to
be. And, given leave to exercise my skill, I invited inspiration to take hold.

  White walls manifested and moulded themselves to match the vision in my mind; a council table and chairs appeared also. To break the monotony of all the white, I created oval windows in the chamber and a transparent dome in the ceiling. Through them, the night sky of this region of space was visible, filled with celestial bodies and activity that added breathtaking scope and colour to my creation.

  My own view from Aramatena was of two huge planets that revolved around each other and this one, creating a massive light vortex at their centre—the major porthole to the next universal system up from our own. The other two planets were Aveyon, a brilliant aquamarine green, and Vega, which glowed brilliant blue—the remnant of which appeared on the physical plane as the star Vega. These three planets had been the seeding point of life in our time matrix about nine hundred and fifty billion Earth years ago. The councils and planets were all causal in nature and were each connected to one of the final three Signet stations in the Amenti Project, stations ten to twelve. Together, this triad of planetary councils and stargates formed the Cradle of Lyra, which was the birthplace of all life in this lowest harmonic universe.

  As I stood before the table in the council chamber in awe of my own handiwork, the members of the Council of Aramatena began to appear in the chairs.

  ‘Our heroine was surprised to see that all the beings before her appeared human,’ said the oldest and wisest-looking man, seated at the head of the table.

  ‘Triogenes,’ I surmised and bowed to him. ‘I assume you could appear as a Dracon if required, but that appearance would not be as conducive to our negotiations.’

  He agreed with a nod of his head, and looked to the spectacular view beyond the windows. ‘Lovely. There really is a lot to be said for form,’ he commented approvingly.

  ‘It’s a little sparse.’ I added a few plants, some depictions from the Hall of Time Codes, and finished with a spot of high tea laid out on the conference table.

  Triogenes chuckled. ‘Good show. I couldn’t have written it better myself. Tea anyone?’

  His associates were glad to take up the offer: selections from the tea tray went floating off in all directions, and the teapot proceeded to pour itself.

  ‘This is surely the work of Meridan, the master etheric designer,’ said the woman seated alongside Triogenes, admiring the lovely room, but I believe she was more impressed with the cake.

  ‘To be fair, it’s the work of a fabulous patisserie I discovered in Double Bay,’ I replied.

  ‘Obviously humankind are progressing. There is no mistake here,’ Triogenes decreed once he’d taken a few sips of tea. ‘The stargate between our worlds will be open for passage once again.’

  ‘That’s it?’ I ventured, watching the council indulge in their tea party. ‘A good cup of tea is all it takes to re-establish long-severed inter-stellar relations?’

  Triogenes nodded and smiled broadly. ‘For you, Meridan, this part of your destiny was always going to be a…well…’ he held up his plate, ‘…a piece of cake. The causal matter of this lower harmonic universe is, to your true self back on Tara, but one of many primitive building materials to be interwoven into your designs.’

  I was overwhelmed to realise that up here in the causal realms I wasn’t considered the lowly Earth being I’d imagined, but as a goddess who was greatly revered for her huge contribution to creation in this universe. I made a note to myself: in times of self-doubt, it would serve me well to remember this.

  ‘And now that she felt mighty and significant,’ Triogenes waved to me, ‘she was ready to return to Earth and finish what she had begun so long ago.’

  Everything around me blurred and I was set on a spiralling, roller-coaster ride back to my Signet station.

  I was deposited atop the white porthole of liquid light, my flimsy physical form shaking with the after-effects of the high-frequency episode. Still hunched over on the floor, without pausing to regain my sensibilities, I desired to be transported to Thoth Station beneath Giza, where I could finally report on the events of the day to the Amenti Council.

  Unfortunately for me, the porthole exit at Giza was a vertical door. I felt the cool splash of its emerald green frequency as I passed through the Thoth pyramid and was ejected through the equally green porthole at the far end of the Hall of Records. Still weak from my inter-stellar adventure, I stumbled on shaky legs into the sacred chamber to land face first on the floor.

  ‘Mia!’

  I rolled onto my back to find Polaris rushing to my aid. I smiled, pleased to see him, for through my own life experience and my reading of Ashlee Granville-Devere’s journals, he had become as much of a hero in my eyes as my own husband.

  ‘Captain,’ I began, ‘Albray has become a security risk—’

  ‘We know,’ Polaris calmly assured me, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘Arcturus handed himself in to me; and since I revisited his meeting with Sabine Labontè this morning, he’s been cleared of being a threat to your mission.’

  ‘Déjà vu!’ I exclaimed; this was almost an exact repetition of what my ambushers had told me this afternoon. ‘Who else knows about this?’

  Polaris seemed a little stunned by my reaction, knowing nothing of the ordeal I’d just been through. ‘Denera, Tamar—’

  ‘No,’ I stressed, ‘apart from Amenti staff.’

  Polaris’s face turned dark. ‘Killian Labontè.’

  ‘Do you know where he is now?’ I was gripped by panic; was Tamar still with him?

  ‘I dropped Labontè and Tamar back at Montségur tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘Why? What’s happened? You secured your Signet station, didn’t you?’

  ‘Not before the Nefilim attempted to take it from me.’ I filled him in as we walked towards Denera, who was standing behind the control panel of the Hall of Records. ‘Our foe have created a new light-body shield that alters their aura to appear like that of whoever they’re impersonating. The deception is practically undetectable.’

  ‘Practically?’ Denera noted my choice of words.

  ‘It has a very subtle fluid-like flaw in its appearance,’ I explained. ‘Hence, the labyrinth at Montségur is now crawling with Dracon and at least a couple of the Nefilim.’

  Polaris looked horrified. ‘We can fetch Tamar back,’ he suggested, looking ready to depart that instant.

  I wasn’t so compelled to rush straight to her rescue, knowing that we could cheat time. There were other more pressing concerns. ‘My daughter did say she wanted the Nefilim to come to her,’ I mused, ‘and we still have most of the night to sort out the situation there before Tamar arrives back. What worries me more is getting Emmett Rich out of my Signet station.’

  Both Polaris and Denera gasped.

  ‘I know, I know, but what was I meant to do—leave him to the mercy of the Dracon?’ I appealed.

  Still their horrified expressions didn’t change.

  ‘Tell me you knocked him out, bound him, anything?’ Polaris appealed.

  I was too stunned by my own stupidity to answer.

  ‘Did you check his aura for the fluid-like flaw you described to us?’ Denera said hopefully.

  ‘There was no time.’ I felt pathetic trying to defend myself.

  Polaris struggled to contain his frustration. ‘We have to get back there, right now!’ He grabbed my arm and hauled me towards the porthole.

  As he did, the Signet Map within the Hall of Records’ console activated itself.

  ‘Wait!’ Denera called. ‘You shouldn’t leave until we know this alert doesn’t concern you.’

  The Signet Map unfurled from the console and projected its image onto the liquid-light dome in the roof. It showed a flattened map of the world with all twelve of the Signet station locations marked; Montségur was blinking red.

  ‘I have a very bad feeling about this,’ Polaris muttered.

  ‘Even if someone has breached the station, they can’t use it,’ I said, appealing to him
to stay calm.

  ‘What bothers me is that the Nefilim know that,’ Polaris retorted. ‘So why would they bother seizing it unless they have a use for it?’

  Suddenly I felt nauseated.

  ‘Hey, it won’t be anything we can’t fix,’ he added, trying to reassure me. ‘It’s not your fault, you should have had more backup. We should have focused on getting the final stations open one at a time, instead of spreading our resources thin and trying to open them all at once.’

  ‘I shouldn’t need backup!’ I wasn’t going to let anyone else take the rap for this one.

  ‘True,’ Polaris agreed. ‘But as you’ve only just activated your station, you’ve only just figured that out. Am I right?’

  I smiled. He was right; I was a lot more aware of my personal power now.

  ‘Look, I’ve made plenty of mistakes, big ones!’ he said. ‘So don’t be—’

  ‘Heaven preserve us!’ Denera gasped, and the panic in her tone made my stomach sink.

  She had stepped into the tube of light that constituted the telepathic command centre of the Hall of Records and Signet Station Four, which worked in conjunction with the Signet Map to form surveillance for the Signet stations. Denera was staring up at the domed screen on the roof, viewing the situation unfolding in the control room of Meridan station.

  Emmett Rich was standing next to the white liquid-light porthole with what appeared to be a can of spray paint in his hand. ‘So simple a child could do it,’ he chuckled to himself, and sprayed the liquid-light surface, which instantly turned to solid gold.

  ‘No!’ I cried.

  All kinds of alarming sounds began to emanate from the control panel, and Denera spoke quickly to translate them. ‘The breach in security at Meridan station has been reported to the Council of Aramatena, who will destroy the Triogenes pyramid and Meridan station if Meridan does not advise otherwise within one Earth hour.’