“Actually, it’s more about the energy on our side. Energy fuels the universe. The original Masons were alchemists. They knew how to manipulate energy and create magic from plants and minerals. Along the timeline they were vastly corrupted and began to use the simple, neutral properties of alchemy in the darkest ways imaginable.”
Suki frowned. “They’ve been in control for the last two hundred years. Why do you have hope to beat them now?”
“Because nothing beats an idea whose time has come,” Ocean said.
The Lost Word
The Future of America
by Devlin P. Grayer
August 17, 1987
What can I say about the Harmonic Convergence? Some think it is of science fiction, but those in the ranks know better. We have foreseen this time for over a hundred years. We have known of its prophesy. We have planned for it and are ready. We will wait to harness the power of the sun, the power of the grids, the power of humanity. This igniting of the earth’s energy is the fight we’ve been expecting. We are prepared to win.
I continue to rise in the ranks. I am prepared to do what it takes. The seeds have been planted to ensure success.
July 25, 1998
The Day out of Time. We have learned that the Daughter was born today. How precious. Her origin is clouded. She seems to be a blending of the three we can’t explain. We will watch closely.
December 21, 2012
The allure of an enemy is a strong one. The idea feeds on itself so beautifully it takes on a life we only imagined would take hold. War is seductive. How we’ve seduced the children under the noses of the apathetic parents. Our future Americans. Our future fighters, so immune to the violence, so immune to the carnage they see in their streets, on their screens, in their hearts. How easy it is to feed the flame of rage handed down, father to son. Mother caught in the middle, powerless to change what has always been. War has always been. War is profitable. Unseen enemies are profitable.
Freedom. What does it truly mean? The original Masons had a vision for this country but they lacked the manpower fear offers. Free to live in this country yet a slave to money. Who are we trying to break free from? Should I ask what? Struggling for freedom.
Zero point will come in the year of perfect vision. The year I will take the presidency. We will have to enact the plan or perish. The light, if forged and made whole once more, will ensure the next age will remain in our hands.
The children, their energy and God presence, is vital for our success. How easy it is to harness their vitality while they sleep.
The third peril is coming, and we will be ready. I will be President. Humans will yearn for more from their existence. And we will give it to them. There must be death to have rebirth.
The Lost Word
Magic is suffered by fools who proclaim “Abracadabra.” Most do not know what they speak. I create by my word. I create by my intention, combined with the science of sound. Words can change timelines because the fulcrum is the word itself. The lost word is Mother.
Britt knocked on the door to Beatrice’s house in Valhalla, New York. A For Sale by Owner sign sat in the window. She had decided she couldn’t just leave the country without paying Beatrice a visit.
The door flew open. Al Unger raced out the door and smacked right into her. “You?” he said, startled. He had a panicked look on his face. “You can’t come in.” He grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her down the front steps.
“Hey!” She yanked her arm away. “Hands off. I came to see Beatrice.” She looked up at the front door, still wide open.
“She’s dead, and you need to leave. No one is inside, except—”
“Dead?” Britt asked in shock. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Well, maybe it’s called something else for ones like her, but she’s gone,” he said. “That’s why I’m selling.” He gestured to the sign in the window. “Look, I gotta go. Don’t go inside.” He hopped into his late-model Jaguar in the driveway and peeled out down the street.
She looked back at the open door. “Wow, dead.” She let out a big sigh and walked back up the cement steps. “Hello?” she asked, peering into the house. Who could be in here? she thought. Pets? She looked around the living room. All signs of Beatrice had been stripped away. The interior was sterile, ready for a new owner.
The quietness of the house was eerie. Britt had thought maybe she would feel the energy of the Great Mother of Air, but she couldn’t. “Except who?” she asked aloud. “Hello?” she called again. It was listed for sale, so anyone could go through it. She decided to take a quick tour.
She made quick work of the small top floor, then headed to the basement. There were many doors, most leading to empty closets.
The last door at the end of the hall drew her attention: a red light shone out from under it. At first, she stood still. Al could be roasting a dead body in there, for all she knew. He had serial killer written all over him.
With her cell phone at the ready, she opened the door. The smell and the wet heat hit her before her eyes adjusted to the low light. Briefly unable to see, her mind told her this was a mistake. But a second later, the contents of the red room came into focus, and she wasn’t surprised to find snakes. Her nose had told her before she could see.
She was surprised at their large size. This enclosure rivaled any zoo display. The large snakes danced back and forth, more active than Britt had known snakes to be. They all seemed to be following the lead of the great white snake that undulated in the middle of the window. Britt touched the warm glass wall and all the serpents stopped weaving to stare at her.
In her head, she heard their voices sing in unison:
You are one of ussssss.
When the time isssss right, you will be back, dear one.
“What the hell?” Al bellowed from the bottom of the stairs and Britt jumped backward.
“I … I’m sorry,” she said stumbling out of the room, “I shouldn’t be nosing around down here but I—”
“But you were,” he said angrily.
She regained her courage and took a deep breath as she drew closer to him. “You won’t sell this house with those creatures in it.”
All of Al’s hubris fizzled away. “I know,” he said. “But I can’t get near enough to move them, and it’s not like I can just call an exterminator.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t just shoot them,” she said under her breath.
“I’ve had a bit of trouble obtaining a gun,” he said. “Look, you’ve got to go.” He almost appeared compassionate. “I’m sorry this isn’t the family dynamic you were hoping for, but it is what it is.” He turned and sprinted up the stairs. She followed him up, and when he kept going to the top floor, she showed herself out.
“One sec,” he called, running to meet her on the sidewalk. “It’s actually a good thing you came by. Beatrice left this for you.” He handed her an antique-looking bracelet made up of three awkwardly chunky, intertwined silver doves. “I wasn’t going to mail it to you or anything, so here you go.” He left her standing on the sidewalk and scurried inside.
Britt looked at the garish bracelet and tried it on. It was hideous, but she told herself it would grow on her; it was, after all, a gift from her grandmother.