by P. Milisande
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
As Above So Below
Veil over Atlantis
P. Milisande
Copyright © 2016 P. Milisande
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9781508043416
This book is dedicated
To my Husband D., and our children, C. and R. – you are my rock.
To Mom, for being the safe harbor I can always return to.
To Dad, did you hear me whisper?
To Grace Q., wherever you may be.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Map images are from Google Earth (Map data ©2015 Google). All marks on the maps (yellow pins, red lines), including emphasis, errors, inferences - real or imagined - are the author’s.
Visita Interiora Terrae
Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem
Visit the interior of the earth;
In rectifying, discover the hidden stone.
– Christian Rosenkreuz
Contents
Chapter 1: The Pleiades
Chapter 2: Above
Chapter 3: Lost
Chapter 4: Below
Chapter 5: Unveiled
Chapter 6: The Call
Chapter 7: The Wall
Chapter 8: Paradise
Chapter 9: Time Before Time
Chapter 10: The Vision
Chapter 11: The Hidden Stone
Chapter 12: The Dream
Chapter 13: The Seven Sisters
CHAPTER 1
~
GENTLE WAVES LAPPED AT Maia’s feet as she pretended to close her eyes. According to the rules of the game, her sisters will hide and she will try to find them using no powers. They liked to play this game in their favorite secret place – an obsidian cave at the bottom of the ocean. Glittering walls and flickering fireflies provided the only source of light. Darkness swelled from its several meandering passageways.
The sisters did not know why but some passages greatly terrified them.
“Is it true those openings lead to different worlds?”
“That is what our amah says.”
“Do you think Maman will tell us about them one day?”
“That is our destiny. When we are ready, Maman will tell us.”
“But I do not want her to tell us. I am scared.”
“There is nothing to be afraid of, Merope. All creation come from the One. And though we may not understand, we all have a part to play in it.”
“What does that mean, Alcyone?”
“I do not know, Maia.”
“But you know everything!”
“I wish I did. But I do not.”
Maia and her sisters often made up stories of what lay at the end of the tunnels. Once, they made the mistake of telling their Maman about their fascination for the strange passages. Since then, their Maman forbade them from going back to the cave.
We are not even supposed to be here.
Maia saw tiny points of light behind her eyes. They pulsed and grew. She tried to conceal a smile. She knew where her sisters hid. They circled and hovered above her. They looked at her intently, trying to see if she would follow the rules this time.
So you are not hiding in the passageways. You think I will not look up.
Maia faded into the dark walls.
“That’s unfair, Maia! We said no powers!”
“You’re cheating, Maia!!!” another sister said.
They heard the echo of Maia’s giggles as a whirlpool encircled them. The sisters stumbled and fell and hit each other. Although hurt and bruised, they laughed in obvious merriment. Maia shook her head, plunged in and joined them.
The seven sisters danced inside the swirling water. They tried to see who can make the water fizz, bubble and burst. They held hands, they sang, they spun.
“Faster, Maia! Faster!”
“I wish we could play like this forever!”
They did not know they would be pulled apart by events not of their doing.
By love.
By betrayal.
By tragedy.
But in that time before time, entombed within a dark and sparkling ravine deep under the sea, they had each other. The Pleiades, the Seven Sisters, nymph daughters of Atlas and Pleione. Their melodious singing and laughter rang as if it would not cease. And for that time, it seemed so. They had the protection of their deep, magical cove. Far from prying eyes, from reprove.
Untouched by the prophecy.
A booming voice reverberated in the cave. “Maia! Come back to the palace! Bring your sisters! Your father wants to see all of you! Now! The guests have arrived!”
The sisters scrambled to swim back to the surface. Another of their games to see who will get to the palace first.
Maia fell behind. She could not explain it but she felt a sense of foreboding. The prophecy, unbidden, came to her.
It starts now, she thought.
The Stone Prophecy
The path to the stars is lined with dread
‘Tis the road the Sisters tread
They knoweth not what lie ahead
Beneath the gates, near the Ancient stead
Electra, Celaeno, Taygete, Merope
Alcyone, Maia, Asterope
Steeped in grace
Enigmatic, adored
Ephemeral, resplendent
Tenacious, ascendant
The Seven who are but are not what they seem
Who must find the truth lest all future dim
Of the oneness of all and the all-ness of one
Light over darkness conquers the sun
Will hope be gained?
Will time stand still?
Will the two that is one
Finally grow still?
For what is above is what is below
But they, will they, the burden forego?
For to journey within is to heed the call
But to find the path means to lose it all.
CHAPTER 2
~
MAIA JUST TURNED 14. Petrified of flying, she did not want to be piloting – correction, co-piloting – a plane. But as a member of the Young Aviator’s Club, the package included that.
“Today is the day you fly,” they told her.
She had to fly. And so she will.
Her father, the adventurer, insisted she should join. Joining meant being up there in the clouds, to be airborne – and soaring, crashing, burning.
Flying, it just meant flying.
“You get to be with your friends from the neighborhood, you meet a few hours a week, and you get to fly a plane once a month. Don’t you think it’s exciting?!!!!”
No. Dad, I do not. She tried to tell him but he did not hear.
The whole situation – out of control crazy. Her father, her over-the-top-to-almost-die-is-cool dad – also crazy. But she adored him. So how could she tell him it terrified her? Flying, bursting into flames and falling – in that order. She had a strong suspicion her parents must have been given the wrong baby.
But what could she do? She had already climbed aboard a Cessna. Noah, her childhood crush and co-pilot – main pilot, he is the main pilot – secured her seat belt.
Trying to keep her composure, she took the yoke/wheel/yoke in her hands. She tried to remember that it controlled pitch. Nose up/down via pull/push inputs, the lecture in
her head went on and on. When I pull the yoke back, the nose will rise. When I push the yoke forward, the nose will go down. When I turn the yoke left, the plane will roll to the left. When I turn it to the right, the plane will roll to the right. So if I push the yoke, we will crash. So Maia, try not to push it, please. You got this!!!
She exhaled.
“That’s a deep one.”
Noah smiled at her. Is he making fun of me? She became aware of the smallness of the cockpit – and their closeness. Her stress rose up several notches and the cockpit grew even smaller.
Why did it have to be Noah? Okay, I know, I wished for it. But what if I embarrass myself? And why did he have to be so cute? I hope Dad didn’t notice I wore lipstick today.
She joined because of Noah. Only because of Noah. And the (slim) chance he would finally know she existed. Daddy did not know. The Daddy who would get in terrible trouble if she got out of this alive.
She took her eyes away from the runway road and stole a look at Noah. He caught her looking at him. He said something, but other voices fought for attention in her headphone.
“Noah.... What?” She took off her headphone.
“I said don’t take off your headphone. We are taking off. Remember, you will hear many voices but try to listen to my voice. Steady on the yoke, I will direct you to the take-off point but you pilot the plane from here. Okay? You have control.”
Our code for when he’s letting me fly.
He’s letting me fly!!!
“Aye, aye, sir. Er, I have control!!!” It came out as a shriek.
She stole a panicked glance at Noah, but the controls seemed to occupy him. I bet he is trying to make sure I do not crash this plane – Why is he frowning?
She pouted. He turned and looked at her. She smiled.
He pointed to the front. Look, he seemed to say, but Maia was no longer sure.
She remembered not to put her hand on the yoke/wheel/yoke. She let her feet do the driving. She thought she got the hang of it but the plane suddenly veered to the right – straight to the bushes. Noah expertly regained control of the plane.
“I have control,” he whispered to her.
A delicious whisper. A deep delightful whisper. That voice. She could listen to it all day but other voices squawked on her headphone. She tried to relax.
Noah has control.
And then they found themselves at the take-off point.
“I will have you do this, okay? You have control.”
She will fly.
Not ready. I’m not ready.
“Maia…?”
“I have control!!!”
She tried to steady her heart, thought about her genes, she should have brave genes. She had the proof right there somewhere in the crowd. She could see him if she took her eyes off the runway road. Noah will be mad. She tried to picture her dad beaming and smiling proudly at her instead.
But all she wanted to do was to kick him on his daddy butt.
What am I doing here, Dad? I do not want to fly!
“Steady, Maia, steady.”
Is Noah panicking?!!!
The plane gained speed and Maia pulled ever so slightly on the yoke/wheel/yoke. The plane lifted off the ground and took a slow heart-pounding climb. She could hear the plane’s engines – Too noisy, like almost-crashing-bursting-into-flames-Armageddon-noisy! What is Noah saying? Is he talking?!!!
And then she had a glimpse of the mountains and the expanse of marshland that dotted Tsawwassen. Farmlands appeared to be pieces of a big puzzle, little green squares fitting perfectly. Trees shaped and cut by nature’s expert hands looked like colorful shrubs. Dense then sparse, sparse then dense. Victorian houses became pieces for a board game.
So this is how the world looks like from up here. Everything is so small. We are all but a speck.
This somehow filled her with peace. Confidence took a hold of her, and she relaxed her grip on the yoke/wheel/yoke. She felt she knew what she had to do.
She turned her gaze to the left and to the right. She let the reality of flying sink in and wash over her. The exhilaration of being suspended between the earth and the sky. Of being in control.
The feeling of freedom, of being untethered.
There, among the clouds, she thought she saw the past, the present, the future.
Nothing matters now except this moment. I am where I should be.
Their plane broke through cotton candy clouds. Maia felt giddy.
If I open this window and reach out with my hands, I can touch the clouds.
But Noah might not like it.
Noah. I’m with Noah.
She stole a glance at him again. He looked tense. Suddenly, Mount Baker loomed before her, snow-capped, resplendent, majestic.
She smiled.
I’m flying. Wow. There is nothing now that I cannot do.
Her heart no longer pounded. She no longer felt afraid.
At that moment, she understood her father and his desire to live. To experience everything, to push boundaries, to know and understand what lay beyond.
He knew that with flying – this experience, this gift – the same flame would be kindled within her.
Yes, Dad. I am not mad or scared anymore. Like you, I am ready to live, to be brave…
“What’s out there?” she dared to ask the winds.
She heard a whisper of several voices. You can find out.
She cried out and pushed the yoke. The plane plummeted.
An old man sat perched on a little alcove on the spires, where the Solomonic columns met. He dangled his feet and whistled an unfamiliar tune. His cane rested across his lap.
He looked down on the world and talked to himself, lamenting the dark hue that blanketed the city.
The cost of urbanity. It need not be –
He stopped midway in his diatribe. Beyond the gray haze, he saw the ripple of sunbeams. It streamed through thick, white clouds. A small plane flew across it, leaving behind a white streak across the sky.
A beautiful, beautiful day.
It made him want to sing.
The slight drizzle that earlier blanketed the city dissipated. And the sun shone – dashing, blinding, fierce.
Just the right conditions for a rainbow.
As if on cue, an unusual patch of rainbow appeared on his left. The patriarch of the Nine frowned.
A square rainbow?
He paused and looked at the scene below him, suddenly alert to the signs. The leaves that fell twirled within several palm-sized tempests. Maple leaves danced within it, one side autumn, the other green. The wind guided it as it spiraled into a rusty heap,
Nothing. Everything is as it should be.
The gathering clouds stole his attention. They went into formation as if led by the beat of an unseen hand to music only the old man heard. His heart skipped a beat.
The skies suddenly – imperceptibly – became streaked with a dark blue line. Within the clouds appeared the outline of blades that twirled on the point of an axis. The clouds parted and a crescent appeared. The old man knew it could not be the moon. It is the other moon. Pinpricks of flashing light surrounded the crescent.
What is going on? Why am I being showed this? Is it time?
An eagle appeared and flew directly to where he stood. He jumped in surprise.
The eagle stopped in mid-air and contemplated whether to engage the feeble man in battle. He stood between her and her nest. She locked eyes with the old man and saw something she knew should not be there. She flew away as fast as she could, stretching her gargantuan wings.
The old man woke up as if from a dream. He suddenly realized where he stood, and the precariousness of where he was. He looked down. No one – not one from the sea of people below him – looked up to see what the ruckus was about.
I am invisible. No one sees me.
He sat down and sighed deeply.
Everyone is living their safe little lives. They know nothing. We protect them, WE PROTECT THEM, yet they do n
ot know. They do not care. The world turns but it is only because of us.
He turned his gaze upward to look again at the second moon. It had disappeared.
I am tired. When will you take me?
At the edge of his vision, the plane he saw only minutes ago began to plummet. He frowned.
The old man felt every ounce of his energy seep from him. His eyes grew large, fearful. The world dimmed. With its dimming, a bright apparition came to him: it bore the face of the woman he once loved. And lost.
She is here. She is near.
The old man convulsed, his mouth emitting white froth.
Noooo... not right now. Please, not right now.
He fell. No one screamed.
CHAPTER 3
~
MAIA HAD IN HER hand the photo of the day she flew a plane. No tear fell. Her heart hurt, but just a little bit.
That’s good.
She found she could always rely on old pictures to lift her out of a blue mood. Elle, her best friend, taught her to express herself in colors. “White” for happy. “Yellow” for uneasy. “Purple” for scared. “Black” for terrified. “Red” for anger. Not madness, Maia. That’s different. I don’t have a color for that. And “blue” for when her memories fail her. When the minute details of his face fade from her eyes. When she could not smile. Or laugh.
Yeah. I used to laugh all the time.
Her favorite – the photo of the day she flew a plane. A white, happy day. She lived to tell the tale, and had a windblown, manic/panicked/ecstatic look on a photo to prove it. Goofy and loopy, Elle said. Her father stood on her right, beaming proudly. And Noah stood on her left.
Noah… I wonder what he is doing right now…
She looked at the other photos. They all had frayed edges.
A kindergarten photo, the first day of school, right after she tripped and fell flat on her face. I think I looked goofy and loopy in this photo too.
She remembered how the other children taunted her – kids could be cruel sometimes. But her father picked her up and hugged her tight, stopping her angry (embarrassed) tears from falling. He whispered everything would be okay. She tried to smile when he took the photo. He spoke the truth. She loved kindergarten.
