The Prophecy of Arnaka (The Arnaka Saga Book 1)

by Lucia Ashta

  As she ran, at first at a moderate pace, her guides told her to shed any thoughts about how the outside world perceived her and Anak. Others’ opinions and efforts at persuasion could not influence her choices and actions. Her mission would suffer if she were to allow this. She needed to learn freedom from many of the concerns of human life. And the best way to feel that was for her to run free, truly free.

  Now understanding why her guides had instructed her to run, Ashta put more energy into it. She increased her speed, launching herself forward. She ran without holding back now. She ran with everything she had, without thought. Her legs were grateful for the power that coursed through them. They had craved this burst of energy. Her shirt, which hung loosely tied, twisted around her and eventually fell, liberated, when it had untangled through her movement. Though she had very few clothes, she could not be concerned about it. Nothing in the material world was important.

  A silent essence orchestrated life. The further Ashta was from this profound essence, the farther she stood from her true self and purpose. That was her lesson on this day as a budding teenager.

  She ran. She ran so fast that she tripped, but that did not matter either. She recovered quickly and gracefully from her stumble and kept running. In accepting her imperfection, there was perfection. Even she and Anak, despite their purpose and their angelic origins, would have to live a human experience. Like all humans, once the twins understood that they exercised their free will by choosing how they responded to situations, they left those things that vied to affect them to swirl about them instead, without upsetting their stability or emotions.

  Ashta shed self-judgment and those demands that she placed on herself to be emotionally concise. She shed all of that as she ran. Her breathing was heavy now. Exhilaration pumped her legs and her arms. She wanted to run faster still. Her body gave more from reserves she was not aware she had. It performed at peak efficiency as she jetted across the sand. Her feet acknowledged the warmth beneath her bare soles and the stimulating heat spurred her on.

  Finally, a thin scarf she wore unwove itself from her hair and dropped to the earth. It felt like a small victory for the scarf, and Ashta celebrated it. It had whipped in the wind wanting to be free also. It seemingly struggled for liberty and achieved it! She rejoiced in the feeling of emancipation. No material possession could control her. No earthly moment could grasp hold of her soul. She ran harder and faster, her heavy breathing a vivid reminder of her animal nature. She embraced it all.

  She felt joy, exhilaration, and understanding. Only the pure love and light in her heart were significant. In this space of love and light, there could be no suffering. There could be no feeling of low vibration that could affect her light. It was not possible. Even death could not affect this sensation and knowing of ultimate perfection. Death was just a transition into the next stage of her soul’s path.

  No other details mattered! She understood that now, and it resonated within her being. She was truly free. She knew the importance of Creator’s plan and allowed this knowledge to course through her. Creator’s design was deceptively simple in its infinitely complex balance of intricate functioning. Human life ran its course in the same way that all nature did. The flower sprouted from a seed to grow toward the sun, to share its beauty and to fulfill its purpose, and then to slowly wither and die. All of this nature did in absolute peace, in acceptance of the cycles of life.

  Ashta was an angel in human form that came to earth on a mission. Just as the flower held an important purpose for the entire planet, so too Ashta was here for an important reason. She was to provide a service to humanity that only she could complete. And just like the flower, one day she, too, would wither and die. But before then, she had much to do.

  She ran on. She ran and ran. Her yellow hair flapped behind in triumphant tangles. She was in flow with what Creator had made and that included her body. Her long muscles stretched and bounded. She imagined the spirit of the lioness within her, and she roared and panted to honor her strength. The lioness’ ferocity urged her forward, incited her to embrace life. And she did! She felt whole and complete.

  Ashta knew her perfection with each infinitesimal part of her being. She felt every individual speck within her, just as she felt each grain of sand under her feet. The sun that warmed her was perfect. The breeze that blew and cooled the sweat on her skin was perfect. She knew the breeze had come to cool her, to respond to her need, because she felt the embrace of a loving universe. Working in divine synchronicity, the universe was able to respond to individual needs.

  She came to a sudden halt, bending over, rapid breath pulsing through her. Her body hungrily took in air. Once the rise and fall of her chest began to slow, she stood and looked around her. She had run very far; it was a long way back to the temple. And that felt wonderfully right, just as she knew everything would for some time.

  Before returning to the temple, she wanted to feel the water’s power against her hot skin. She smiled and took off again. She was a lioness reaching full speed from a crouch, and she ran like this until she reached the river. She jumped in, dressed in her remaining clothes, without a second’s pause. Clothing was an illusion. Things were an illusion. And she had just broken through the illusion. She was free, and she knew it as she drank in the sweet water of the Haakal.

  19 Deception

  Marco had tried to relax during the overnight flight from Phoenix to Fiumicino near Rome, but had been unsuccessful. He had felt more uncomfortable than ever in his seat and had not slept more than an hour or two. When the plane finally landed, Marco was relieved. He retrieved his suitcase and made his way to the terminal where a short train ride to the Trastevere neighborhood departed every 15 minutes; Marco was able to board a train almost immediately.

  His parents lived on the opposite side of the Tiber River from the Roman Forum and Vatican City. Growing up, Marco had appreciated being removed from the center of Rome and its constant busyness. Even though Trastevere had become trendy lately with its bars and restaurants crowding on weekends, it still had its own distinct character. Marco realized how much he had missed the narrow cobbled streets and the familiar sounds and smells. Brightly colored laundry hung between houses drying, spanning the width of the streets, and the morning smell of fresh bread wafted out of bakeries and filled the air.

  Marco had spent very little time in Rome over the last fifteen years. It was a relief to speak Italian again. It was nice to walk the same streets he had walked as a child and see that not much had changed. Storefronts were similar even though some businesses had turned over. Families lived in the same homes they had for generations. Parents and children had grown older and new babies had been born. The passing of time had been accepted with complacence in this neighborhood.

  Marco arrived at his childhood home on Via della Luce. The house was painted a soft white just as it always had been, standing proud of its three stories. The house was in its middle age and showed signs of wear just like the other houses around it. Bright purple and fuchsia flowers adorned the balconies and windowsills. Marco had forgotten how much his mother loved her flowers.

  He rang the doorbell and listened to a sound of his childhood echo through the house. It was early morning, Marco’s father would already be at work, and his mother would be preparing to go to the market.

  A response rang out. “Vengo! Un minuto!” I’m coming! One minute!

  Marco smiled. How many times had he heard his mother yell out the same thing to people that waited at the door? Marco’s mother threw open the door and gasped. Marco watched her shocked expression transform into a joyous one.

  “Marco!” she said. “Che sorpresa! Cosa ci fai qua?” What a surprise! What are you doing here? She pulled him into a hug.

  “You should have told me you were coming. You almost gave me a heart attack,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Marco asked his mother from the folds of her arms. She was squeezing him so tightly that he could barely breathe. “I r
eceived your message.”

  “What message?” his mother asked.

  “You called the inn where I am staying in Sedona and told them to give me an urgent message,” Marco said and then paused. “Did you not?”

  His mother’s brow furrowed in consternation. “No,” she said, “I did not. I thought you were in Cuzco.”

  “So, Carla is okay?” Marco asked.

  “Yes, of course she is okay. She is upstairs right now, visiting with little Giuseppe. We were going to have un espresso before I headed out to do the shopping.”

  “So who called for me then?” Marco asked.

  “Come in, Marco. We will talk upstairs,” his mother said, ushering her son into the house.

  “What a beautiful surprise, Marco. I was just telling your father last night that it had been too long since you had visited us.” Her voice trailed behind her as she climbed the stairs. Marco was relieved to see that his mother still climbed the stairs easily. She had just turned sixty.

  “Mamma,” Marco tried again, “who called for me?”

  “Ti l’ho gia detto che non lo so.” I already told you. I don’t know. “What are you talking about, Marco?”

  “I received a phone message that Carla had been in a car accident. To come right away. That she was dying.” This stopped his mother in her tracks. She stopped with each foot on a different riser and turned to look at Marco.

  “That is not funny, Marco,” she said.

  “I do not think it is funny either, mamma.” Marco started to realize what it did mean. It meant that he was away from Elena at a time when she was very vulnerable, when she was only beginning to see a glimpse of her powers without knowing how to use them. He remembered how strong the unease had been when he had left her.

  “Dio mio!” he whispered. My God. How did anyone know where he was? He hadn’t even told his family he was going to Sedona. How could anyone know he was staying at the Javelina Inn when he had told no one? And why would someone lie and tell him that his sister was near death when she was healthy and well with her son upstairs in his mother’s house?

  In Marco’s panic at learning of Carla’s accident, compounded by the traumatic memories of Angela’s death, he had not stopped to think the situation through. He could have called his mother. Instead, he flew to Rome as soon as possible. He had been too late to say goodbye to one sister, the one that mattered the most to him; he didn’t want to take a chance on it happening again.

  Marco pawed at his pockets searching for his cell phone. When he finally found it, he called Elena three times in a row. There was no answer. Marco left Elena a voicemail asking her to call him back immediately. He ensured that his ringer was turned all the way up as he followed his mother up the remaining stairs. Carla was sitting at the kitchen table with Giuseppe and looked up, startled to see Marco. Giuseppe reacted first, running to Marco. Giuseppe had been just a baby when Marco last saw him; uncle and nephew held each other in a happy hug.

  Marco’s younger brother, Antonio, was unmarried and still lived with his parents. Antonio heard his sister’s raucous voice as she greeted Marco and came to the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about. When Marco was able to extricate himself from his family’s embraces, he told them, “I think I may need to leave right away.”

  “But you have only just arrived! Don’t be ridiculous,” Carla said. “Why would you leave?”

  “Because I think the woman I love may be in danger. Unless I reach her on the phone, I will need to leave right away,” Marco told them. Marco’s mother, sister, and brother looked hurt and disappointed. Marco added, “I have missed you all. If I have to leave right away, I will come back very soon to spend time with you. Perhaps I will even bring her so you can meet her.”

  “Who is this woman?” Carla asked.

  “You are in love?” Antonio asked, almost at the same time.

  The mother and her two children exchanged looks. Marco had never been in love before, and it had been a very long time since he had even mentioned a woman.

  “Yes, I am in love with a woman. Her name is Elena,” Marco said. He had not been prepared to tell them any of this, but he was concerned and didn’t understand what was going on. His usual discretion eluded him.

  “Marco, you have never been in love before. This is a big deal,” Carla said.

  “It is a big deal. This is not just any woman. This is the woman I have been looking for my whole life. And now I have found her.”

  Marco’s family looked back at him, stunned to hear him talk this way. Marco’s mother was the first to break the shocked silence.

  “I am so happy for you, my dear son.” She rose from her place at the table to embrace him. Marco found momentary comfort in the support of his mother. He pushed aside the concerns that were galloping through his mind and chose to be present. He was in love. It was hard to believe, even for him, that it had finally happened. He had prayed for it for so long, and now it had arrived. He grinned into his mother’s shoulder, just as he had as a boy.

  “Will you tell us about her?” his mother asked.

  “I will bring her. You can meet her,” he said. “But first, I need to talk to her. I am worried.”

  “What has you concerned?” his mother asked.

  “Remember, I came here right away because of the phone message about Carla being in an accident,” he said.

  “Me?” Carla asked. “But I am fine. What are you talking about?”

  “Yes, thank God you are okay, Carla,” Marco said. “Someone called the inn I am staying at and left a message saying you had been in a car accident.” Marco did not mention that he had also been told that Carla was dying to spare her son any unjustified concerns about his mother’s safety. Carla and Antonio would get the idea.

  “So the question now is: who would do this to me and why?” Marco said.

  The mother, Carla, and Antonio thought for a few moments, but all shook their heads no. They couldn’t think of anyone who would wish Marco harm. Marco was always kind to others. They couldn’t think of anyone who would want to play such a cruel joke on him.

  Marco pulled his cell phone out of his pocket once again and paced the kitchen while the phone rang, trying to connect across an ocean to the woman he loved. But Elena’s phone rang for an empty room. It vibrated on the night table in their room at the Javelina Inn. Marco left frantic messages for her to call him no matter the time. He did not tell her in his voice messages what was wrong because he didn’t want to alarm her. Instead, he told her that his sister was okay.

  Had he told her that his sister’s accident had been a ruse, Elena might have suspected that the message she had received was also a deception. As it was, Elena had run out of the room crying, leaving her phone behind. She had headed toward the mountains, those red mountains that felt of eternity. The mountains would be there long after she was gone from this world. She ran to them for safety and solace.

  20 Golden Light

  More and more, Kaanra offered the twins guidance and instruction only when asked. It was apparent to Kaanra that the twins’ guides were leading them in the way that was most appropriate for their growth. Kaanra released their teaching to the etheric realm. So it was on a day shortly after Ashta and Anak had turned seventeen that Ashta heard the insistent prompting of her guides to engage in another lesson. By this time in her life, four years after she had first met Anak and had been introduced to the idea of their destiny, she had grown accustomed to the way in which her teachings came.

  She was told to go to the water, so Ashta stood up from where she sat on her bed. Not knowing what her guides would ask of her, but knowing that they had directed her to the water, she shed those unnecessary outer garments that fended off the slight chill emanating from the stone walls. She walked through the temple’s open courtyard, exited through the main gate, and reached the river within minutes.

  There, her guides asked her to enter the water. She pulled off her purple tunic, folded it neatly, and placed it under a giant
, ancient tree. Then she walked straight into the river. Ashta stood, allowing her body to acclimate to the water’s slightly cooler temperature. It felt stimulating and refreshing and awakened all the senses in her toes and feet.

  She dipped beneath the water’s surface, already one with it. She lay on the very same rock where she had first lain years before for her early lesson with the water. Instinctively, she had come to the same spot. Ashta immersed herself; she allowed the water to flow over her with its usual ease. Her hair flowed behind her, making her look like a mermaid. Only a lone bird was there to witness her transformation, but the bird knew who she was.

  Ashta flowed with the river. The water within her body connected to the water around her in precise union. She had practiced this release many times since the first time. She was comfortable being one with the water and drawing in that breath of water as if it were air. Her body no longer recognized a difference between the water and the air as it replenished itself.

  This was a time of nurturing for her spirit. She lay there in quiet peace, with her eyes closed, feeling her chest rise and fall with the water she pulled into her lungs. She listened to the sounds of the river as its gentle current moved past her.

  As soon as her awareness shifted to readiness, the dolphin, Vilu, came for her again. Vilu nudged her, and Ashta smiled as she realized her companion had joined her. Vilu nudged her again, and she followed him. Ashta would always follow Vilu. Ah-né Ashta. Ah-né Vilu. I am Ashta. I am Vilu. Vilu was as much a part of Ashta as she was a cosmic part of him. They were the same spirit at the core of existence.

  Ashta swam next to Vilu, but before long, it was difficult for her to keep up with him. He offered his fin to her, and she grabbed it and held on tightly. She leaned her chest into him, and they glided together. The moment held great beauty for Ashta. The purity of Vilu’s heart, the power of the cool water everywhere around her and within her, and the grand design of the moment renewed her.