A free chapter for your enjoyment from one of my books, The Moor, the Mason, and the Alien Part II: A Vril Manifesto.

“The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything.” — Albert Einstein

‘Do you think they will come this time?’ Brother Crimson was determined not to miss anything, focusing on the outer realms of the solar kingdom like a cosmic gargoyle poised atop the proverbial watchtower.

It was the doorstep of the Seventies, the dawning of a new era in the 20th Century, and the twins were first on the scene. Sent by the original Seven Clan Mothers of the Pleiades, they stood vigilant on the outer rim of Earth’s magnetic field. One blazing in a scarlet flame and the other radiating a sapphire aura, they were hovering approximately 12,000 miles above the planet while meticulously energizing the protons and electrons of the Van Allen Belts.

‘Yes. The covenant has been signed in the blood of the ancients. They will come,’ replied Brother Cobalt. Known as the Twin Pillars, they were responsible for preserving the cultural, biological, and global libraries of lost knowledge and ancient wisdom over many lifetimes collectively, reaching as far back as the legendary Iesu rebellion and the origins of the gene for passion. This community project, an endeavor that began long ago as a labor of love in cooperation with the Atum, the Ankheles, and the Sisterhood, evolved into the modern age as something jointly referred to as the Akashic Records. As master stewards of this ecological and metaphysical database, the Crimson and Cobalt Twins were preparing the gateways of reincarnation for the galactic tradition of adventu en missa planetáris, the epic arrival en masse to Mother Earth. It was the intergalactic coming of the ancients, a long-awaited global awakening that would kick start the ignition of the original Grand Experiment in humanity, something that fell off the wagon about a half-million years ago. The Twin Pillars knew their brothers and sisters, the loyal pistons and sparkplugs of this global engine, were returning in the multitudes to engage the enemy head-on in a cultural and spiritual insurrection that would send aftershocks throughout the entire Empire of Orion. Orbiting the planet as primeval runes of cellular and racial memory, Brother Crimson and Brother Cobalt were glowing twice as bright today carrying a tremendous sense of joy over the key events that were about to unfold with the sons and daughters of Gaia throughout the next seven decades.

‘I hear there is one among them who is leading the insurrection, one who used to be a disciple of the master architects.’ Brother Crimson was still scanning the probable threshold for the drop zone, a nexus portal that he knew would be the point of origin for the coming arrival. A new vibe was rising from the ashes of a selfish and small-minded Cold War era. Everyone could feel it as the people of the Kingdom of Eridu had celebrated their first Earth Day during the vernal equinox of that year, a rite of passage that brought the human race one step closer to inheriting their legacy among the stars. The grand minstrels of Earth, singer-songwriters who dominated the previous decade, had successfully changed the frequency and tone of global revolution while creating a powerful dialogue that gave adventu en missa planetáris the social platform it needed to embed itself in the minds of the people.

‘He still is,’ stated Sister Europa, chiming in with the conversation while supervising the interstellar operation within her biomorphic Merkabah. ‘One of our strongest allies and more determined than ever, the Son of the Mother has been released from Andromeda. The galactic community stood witness to this.’ Several members of the Sisterhood had been working with the Crimson and Cobalt Twins as there was simply too much at stake this time.

‘The one from Andromeda,’ said Brother Cobalt as he shot a pensive look at his brother, ‘We remember him from the ancient records, the one whose family was taken from him.’

‘The banished one,’ replied Brother Crimson with a mischievous smirk. ‘The only one to ever put a Kanus Lord’s head on a pikestaff, remaining loyal to the original covenant.’

‘Well, if I remember correctly, there was that and a few other transgressions against the Corporate Titans.’ Now they were both smiling. Today was going to be a good day. ‘This means the others will follow and the Temple of Solomon will rise again.’

Although things like this were usually handled internally by the Sisterhood, nothing could be left to chance. The stabilizing frequencies of the Twin Pillars were tantamount to correctly opening multiple stargates at once. The success of this mission was imperative. Should anything go wrong, there stood a high probability that the entire solar kingdom would be knocked off-kilter. Of course, let’s keep in mind that the word multiple was a severe understatement. In this case, we were talking about hundreds of thousands of gateways all opening simultaneously from the Van Allen Belts all the way out to the Asteroid Belt. This was evident in the fact that Sister Abbadore, someone quite gifted with astronomical calculations, was busting everyone’s chops guesstimating how many gateways would actually open. Finally, much to everyone’s relief, she had settled on her summary analysis. ‘One-million… yes, that is how many portals will open. Definitely one-million. It has to be.’

Right on queue, they all immediately sensed a powerful anomaly entering the system as if Mother Nature herself was listening to Sister Abbadore. Everyone stopped dead in their tracks and looked at her. ‘What? Why is everyone looking at me? I didn’t do it!’ Moving at high velocity, it was as if a tremendous quivering ripple was cutting right through the solar winds of the kingdom itself.

‘Do you see what I see?’ Brother Crimson witnessed something erupting in the distance just outside the Asteroid Belt.

‘Yes! I see it,’ replied Brother Cobalt. ‘And so, it begins.’ Now both of them were observing the event with the laser precision of a hawk, never once flinching from their focus.

Sol Invictus, the Atum’s supreme engine of life, had just begun to break across the event horizon of Gaia, casting a stark illumination on what was coming right at them. It was the Flaming Sword, the Zenith of Andromeda. Roused from the isolation of his own celestial asylum, he blazed a piercing ultraviolet trail through the heavens with an intense coma reminiscent of a primordial comet meeting its own ancient genesis. Upon seeing the swath of carnage and mayhem left in the wake of the Shetu Regime, his eyes smoldered with the spit of hot coals. ‘Mother, what have they done to you?’ Like a dagger through his heart, the eons had not been kind to the kingdom’s throne as they had slipped through the hourglass of regret, abuse, and betrayal long before he was ever allowed to embark on his own journey home. The horror of such a disturbing revelation coursed through his spectral anima like a cauldron of boiling acid. ‘For what is love if not the willing son, the bastard ronin, who emerges to set the world on fire and avenge his mother’s legacy, the one lying utterly raped and beaten in the gutter of the hydra’s malignant empire. Here and now, I return to you as the hammer that breaks the iron hand, the rose-tinted thorn they will never be rid of. The cannibal’s master will know the sharpened edge of my tongue for I have survived the trials of the scorching summit only to be staunchly possessed, at last, by the raging truth that blisters within my soul. I swear to you, Mother, I will make them pay every step of the way as they eat their own wretched filth and burn in the hell of their own making.’ Surrounded by a karmic sphere of stampeding daemons, he had traversed the great void with an army of fire-breathing heralds to rescue the throne of power. Immersed in the pounding uproar of this vanguard nexus, the multiple and diverse members of the Sisterhood had joined in the fray. Returning by the hundreds like a shining squadron of guardian angels, the gleaming emblems engraved on each of their chests seared through the vacuum of space with the essence of pure unrefined Vril defiance. Among them was the Crone trailing right behind the Zenith himself like an eagle protecting her own fledglings. Knowing it had been far too long, she was beaming with relief as Mother Earth, striking a cutthroat deal with the Andromedans, had finally made it possible for the Flaming Sword to come home.

‘They made it back…’ Sister Europa had a great sense of elation and relief in her tone, a sentiment shared by all parties present ‘… and it looks like they returned with all of them!’ It was true. The Sisters of Mercy had safely guided a tremendous number of these combatant spirits back home to the ancient lands of Tiamat. With the appearance of this neo-zeitgeist, the solar kingdom’s rhythm had suddenly shifted as the Twin Pillars felt the vibrations ricocheting off the Cydonia plateau of Mars and heading straight for the throne of power, Mother Earth. The omens of change were imminent as the wheels of thunder had been set in motion by the resurrected sands of time. Trumpeting the bagpipes of the cosmos with a sound that hailed the impending arrival of these presaging expatriates, the Gnostics of Hu rose up in triadic formation from the planet’s horizon like fabled prescient leviathans of a long-forgotten age. Simultaneously blasting the frequency of Hu out to the galactic community in every direction imaginable, they towered over everyone in the Van Allen Belts like colossal behemoths to a colony of dwarves. Though the Twin Pillars were the sentinel watchtowers of humanity, the Gnostics of Hu represented the lighthouse standing on the shores of Babylon in the oceans of time and space. They were the continuum that crossed endless generations of the Olam Hazeh, the golden thread of a bleeding world sending out that long-awaited beacon of light like an interstellar APB to the exiled sons and daughters of the Kingdom of Eridu.

‘Wherever you may be, the time has come. The emissaries of the Seven Clan Mothers have prepared the way and the Sisters of Mercy await your arrival. The Primer Nonna stands at the gateway with the Thorn of Andromeda.’ Translation: Get your grizzled ancient badasses back here now! Come on people, let’s move like we have a purpose in life! All hands on deck, assholes, and elbows! Move! Move! Move! Go! Go! Go! HOOYAH! I’m paraphrasing, of course, but you get the point. That last line about the Primer Nonna pretty much sealed the deal, lighting a fire under everyone’s disincarnate undercarriage as the dam broke wide open. One by one, the hyperspace portals began to reveal themselves. One hundred, one thousand, ten thousand, fifty thousand, one hundred thousand, five hundred thousand. Droves of them came pouring through, like there was no tomorrow, in a glut of raining light trails that pulsated with an endless abundance of tonal chromas dancing across the visual gamut like a volley of raw animated rainbows on steroids. It was as if Zeus himself had taken the visible spectrum of light and shoved a lightning bolt up its celestial ass, courtesy of Mount Olympus, with a winding luminance of endless fiber-optic streams moving like a convoy of bullet trains across the vacuum of space. Yeah, try picturing that one without giving yourself retina damage. Good luck.

Entering the solar kingdom, they blasted through the vast wilderness of paranormal terrains from every direction with the brilliant angst of ravenous hunger on a psychedelic surfboard. It didn’t matter what portal they came through at this point. They were all heading in unison on one singular course as they began chanting a haunting ultimatum, a death knell to the Shetu Regime. ‘By the bloodline of the Krists and the shining Star of David, we stand with the Flaming Sword as the sons and daughters of Gaia. Our brother’s keeper, our sister’s teacher, we wear the sins of our fathers and the folly of our elders. As the Kraken awakens in our dormant habitual genes, know that this kingdom and its covenant will never be yours for we are the Legionnaires of Solomon, the Briah, and the Assiah. To the Shaddai Empire of the walking dead, we say only this… to the end, the absolute bitter end. We, the primordial Atum of the Olam Haba, are here to stay.’ Well, if that colorful little etude didn’t garner the acute malice and cold disdain of the Corporate Titans then nothing would. This official exopolitical sanction put the Sirian D-K’s of War on notice, shaking them to the very foundations of their stock dividends and ivory towers as the consumer slave would begin to transcend its own indentured servitude into the master investor of self-governance within the solar kingdom. And, well, we all know how that can drive the gluttony of avaricious power-hungry nut jobs into a complete state of paranoid dementia and narcissistic desperation. Yes, I speak of the very same delusional paranoia that a few decades later would see Dr. Strangelove’s prophetic lunacy spill over onto the world stage and bring Upper Management’s Twin Towers crashing to the ground. Cause and effect. Action and reaction. The backbone of Economics 101. Learn it well or die trying. And yes, in case you might be wondering, there was no love lost between the Twin Towers (i.e. Wood and Stone) and the Twin Pillars (i.e. Flesh and Bone). Whereas the Twin Towers were built by two brothers working against the legacy of humanity on behalf of the Shetu Regime, the Crimson and Cobalt Twins have always been working for the betterment of humanity on behalf of the Moorish Legacy. Let’s face it, folks, what goes around comes around and the World Trade Center, a white masonic cesspool, hardly represented anything that even remotely resembled the U.S. Constitution in particular or America in general. Chalk one up for the karmic insurrection of dharma. No one in their right mind is ever going to miss those piece of shit towers as they represented nothing more than a culture of rape running a train on Mother Earth, a phallic abortion of humanity courtesy of the Raka-Pharaohs and the Raka-Shields.

Like a torrential cascade rampaging through the gates of Avalon, the cosmic typhoon began to encircle the neighborhood of Gaia as her own roaming stepchild, Luna, started pinging the immediate orbital vicinity with the sonic reverb of a tuning fork slamming into a metallic orb and emanating a thunderous crackling rumble. Surging in momentum, this throng of quantum leapers united with the Zenith vanguard in one focused circular arcing thrust towards Mother Earth. Though the swarming battalion hadn’t quite reached the upper atmosphere, reconnaissance satellites began to severely malfunction, crashing back to Earth with their charred and scrambled circuitry as they lost the stability of their orbits. Regardless of what those sat-recon cameras may have caught in their glassy callous eyes, the events taking place at that moment in time would no doubt serve as the overriding impetus to create what eventually became a Space Transportation System and, all corrupt intentions aside, the rudimentary beginnings of what evolved into the United States Air Force’s Space Shuttle program of the Eighties.

‘The portals are opening more rapidly than expected!’ Scanning the system with her chrono-genome, Sister Abbadore had a panic-stricken look on her face. ‘There are too many coming through at once. At this rate, it’s going to consume our calculated allowances and cause too much of an imbalanced overload!’

‘No, no, no, no… look. Look!’ She quickly gazed up to see Sister Europa pointing right at the Crimson and Cobalt Twins. ‘It is going to work. They are equalizing the system’s reaction.’ Sister Abbadore immediately began a new algorithm with the projected variances as she scanned the kingdom’s electromagnetic framework. Her jaw dropped right about the same time that Sister Europa stopped breathing as a wave of sheer awe washed over both of them. As if summoning the occult disciplines of a lost civilization, the Twin Pillars had actually absorbed the entire harmonic ping of Luna, becoming the hermetic equivalent of dual tuning forks balancing the system’s quantum equations.

‘They are actually modulating the portals on the fly.’ Whispering her frozen and throttled thoughts to Sister Europa, it was all that Sister Abbadore could muster as she stopped looking at the chrono-genome. Together, with front row seats, they witnessed a visionary sight to behold as the entire arsenal of the Twin Pillars’ stellar dynamism in metaphysics, astrophysics, and quantum mechanics was unleashed. Going full tilt, streaming rivulets of sapphire and ruby emanated from the Crimson-Cobalt duo like Tesla coils discharging the unbridled torque of electrical micro-currents as they each positioned themselves side by side in a spread-eagle manner reminiscent of The Vitruvian Man, an eternally powerful analogy for art and science by Leonardo da Vinci. Representing the intricate workings of the universe via the human being, it was descriptively quite fitting in this case, especially with what would come next.

As the vanguard of legionnaires closed in on them, the Flaming Sword could be seen front and center heading straight for the Twin Pillars. Looking at the Crone, he had a huge smile on what would have been perceived as his ethereal face. The Zenith had not seen his old friends in ages. ‘Yes,’ said the Crone who could see the implied question hiding behind his expressive smirk, ‘Brother Crimson and Brother Cobalt are coming, too. They have already agreed to leave the planet’s database and reincarnate with the vanguard on the way down.’ I mean, really, why the hell would you willingly hang around the eternal realms of utter boredom when you could be reborn on the front lines of the infamous and controversial third dimension in a battle of wits with the Corporate Titans of Orion? For reasons that are quite apparent, the Twin Pillars had a vested interest in drop-kicking the Archons into the next parsec. They had waited an eternity for the Temple of Solomon to rise up against the Shadow Government and its rancid two-party system. The time was now at hand as Brother Crimson and Brother Cobalt sent what was expected to be one last message out to the entire Sisterhood. ‘We are opening the final passage.’

Immediately, Sister Abbadore’s chrono-genome began picking up on some intense readings that seemed to be coming from an entirely unanticipated direction. ‘This is bizarre,’ she stated. ‘The readings should be coming from the portals and the vanguard itself, not from…’

She never got to finish that sentence as Sister Europa became tense and rigid, possessed by a focused line of sight as her advanced abilities with en visión obsidian suddenly kicked into high gear in an unexpected manner. Her eyes were bursting with a viridian jade radiance as she locked in on the one thing that served as the logical answer to Sister Abbadore’s readings. ‘… Earth. Our Mother has summoned the Father. The place of emergence has awoken within the Ring of Fire.’ Entranced by what was happening, the unspoken words transmitted by Sister Europa’s galvanized thoughts landed with a strange booming telepathic reverb in Sister Abbadore’s mind. She wasn’t the only one. The entire Sisterhood in attendance heard the triggered message as it was plastered across half of the solar kingdom. Sister Europa’s highly sensitive pineal gland had inadvertently hooked into a direct link up with the Twin Pillars like a metaphysical RSS feed being channeled through a supernatural Wi-Fi network. Due to the proximity of all parties affected, her connection was amplified a thousand-fold by the Gnostics of Hu who were simulcasting it in concert like interstellar speaker amps going supernova. The Twin Pillars, who were now invested in the final stages of the global insurgency, had begun moving apart from each other to make room for something that no one could fully grasp at this point, except one. ‘The alliance begins with the ancient wonders of the world.’ The chrono-genome’s readings had only confirmed what Sister Europa was already seeing through en visión obsidian. The vanguard nexus of legionnaires had moved their flanking approach pattern into strategic alignment with the transcontinental pylons of Earth.

‘The pyramids,’ exclaimed Sister Abbadore. ‘Of course, now it makes sense.’ While continuing to widen the gap between themselves, the Twin Pillars had ignited the planet’s sacred geosophic codes embedded within these universal geometric polygons. Like a cosmic beltway, this global network of pyramids surrounded Mother Earth’s crust while landing squarely on both sides of the Pacific Rim, the mythic Ring of Fire. Ah, but didn’t I just say it was a cosmic beltway? Sure enough, the pyramids and their awakened cyphers continued unfettered cutting a swath right on through the Pacific Ocean to complete the worldwide circuit. Regardless of the metaphysics, it certainly caught the attention of the United States Naval Intelligence as they began picking up on what could only be described as massive energy signatures emanating like repeating rings of power from the depths of the ocean. With the blessing of Gaia, something with an immeasurable kinetic force was being summoned from the central part of the ocean’s basin, the sacred place of emergence. At the command of the Twin Pillars, who were now about one-hundred miles apart from each other, the infinite and mysterious seascape exploded with an upward thrusting motion that unleashed the final transmuting portal unto the ceremonial entourage waiting in the heavens. Time and space appeared to be compressed into a three-dimensional phenomenon as past and present began to coalesce into some sort of circular megalithic mutagenesis. Referred to by the original Naabeehó as Hadaalt’e, it was the one comprehensive channel of complete interdimensional perfection they were waiting for, the enigmatic stargate and rite of passage known by the legendary Navajo as Father Sky.

Oh, to be a raft of sea lions that day. Maybe a rookery of albatrosses? How about a big-ass U.S. naval submarine? You know, the kind that just so happened to be in the area that day. Yeah, imagine the look on their faces as the Hadaalt’e Passage of Father Sky came ripping out of its oceanic abyss, hauling ass through the atmosphere like an ascending Phoenix with one hell of a score to settle. Remember, it is the mother that makes the laws of land and home. It is the father who compliments this by enforcing such laws. It was no secret to anyone that Father Sky had been itching to bury a blood laden hatchet in the skull of the Shetu Regime ever since the last patriarchal invasion of Mother Earth, something that represented a diseased act of interstellar rape and molestation against all women and a fervent dismissal of the Female Principle established by the original clan mothers. Yes, in case you are wondering, Father Sky definitely had an axe to grind on behalf of the Feminine Goddess Energy. And what a vision it was, rising through the air like a pharaonic doorway to all worlds, a window to all realities, in a crusade that would unearth the screaming womb of all women, the Vril manifesto.

Heading straight for the Twin Pillars, Father Sky had a ringed inferno of torched earthen stone encircling the portal’s outer perimeter as fraying shards of fractured red rock came flying off its external edifice with the determined and vexed disposition of splintered teeth. The main central part of Father Sky, the actual gateway itself, looked like a giant semi-transparent pool that had dragged an unruly chunk of turbulent oceanic water along with it, the sheer volume of which would rival the square mileage of Lake Erie. You could actually see through its watery translucent artifice from both sides. Sizzling veins of what seemed to be plasma energy were coursing through it like hot white jet streams emanating what could only be described as something akin to coronal mass ejections. The difference here was that these mass ejections transformed into a feted carnival of rotating bifurcated multidimensional projections, a testament to the Auset-Magdalene legacy bursting forth on both sides of the animated living portal. The vanguard was about to come face to face with a prowling barrage of spirited shamanic totems manifesting in the truest dual meaning of El Gato, the gateway of the sacred Maos, the Cat People. The black panther. The golden lion. The white tiger. The spotted leopard and the bronze cougar. Jaguars and cheetahs. Lynxes and bobcats. Otherworldly sphinxes and extraterrestrial geoglyphs. Mayan faces and Dogon masks. It was an endless cavalcade as the goddess Bast herself could be seen emblazed upon a fiery amulet hanging from the neck of the romping carrousel of projections, a haunting reminder of the matriarchy itself rising up against the Kanus Feudal Lords. As intended, this overwhelming demonstration of feline power in the El Gato stream of consciousness was intense and truly intimidating to witness firsthand, even for someone as seasoned and experienced as Sister Europa. In its own ancient and obscured dialect, Father Sky was sending a rather decisive message to the entire Empire of Orion, something to the effect of ‘On behalf of Mother Earth, may you all eat shit and die!’ Granted, those weren’t his exact words but I’m sure you get the point. Visually, the cosmic humor of this particular scenario could not be overlooked as the scorched molten metal of the aforementioned recon satellites went whizzing right by the Hadaalt’e Passage in the opposite direction like lead bricks on a hot date with Icarus. ‘INCOMING!’ would have been the first thing you heard coming out of both the Van Allen Belts and the Akashic Records had they spoken at all. The albatrosses heard it, as did the sea lions and just about every other living thing this side of the Marianas Trench. Upon receiving this mysterious transmitted memo from the heavens, they promptly got the hell out of the way. Unfortunately, we’re not too sure about what happened to the submarine. As everyone else was jumping on a jet stream and hightailing it out of Polynesian waters, the final remnants of said Russian and American space probes came crashing to the sea. Slamming at high velocity into the surface of the ocean, they may as well have been smacking into the unyielding slab of a lovely brick wall. Oh well, so much for spying on a manufactured fabricated enemy.

‘The transmuting portal is ready.’ Rapt by the visions, Sister Europa was still receiving the entranced link up from the Twin Pillars who were now both completely engulfed in high speed oscillating biospheres of energy rotating at an astonishing rate, something that challenged even the superior mathematical calculations of Sister Abbadore. With Father Sky taking his rightful place in the harmonic chorus of legionnaires, the Crimson-Cobalt Twins had been transformed into pivotal interstellar anchors in the oceans of life, locking the Hadaalt’e Passage of El Gato into position right between them. With the portal now being successfully activated, everyone could finally see for themselves what Sister Europa was captivated by all along. Truthfully, it had been so damn long since anyone beheld the resurrection of the Naabeehó legend that, with the exception of maybe the Crone and the Twin Pillars, no one really knew what to actually expect. The reality of the extraterrestrial events taking place at this point blasted all suspected rumors and expectations right out of existence as everyone came to a sudden standstill, took a deep breath, and witnessed the defiantly magnificent unveiling of Father Sky. At last, Mother Earth’s primeval airborne redeemer had been revealed.

‘It is time,’ said the Crone. She knew the Sisterhood could not follow the Zenith vanguard through the gateway of reincarnation as it was by invitation only with an RSVP meant solely for the sons and daughters of Gaia. This was their legacy and the Sisterhood had to let things take their course with this new generation of warriors, minstrels, visionaries, and civil rights leaders. The Flaming Sword, the vanguard, and the entire legion itself were about to receive their final rites of passage, a global baptism by fire. ‘Your mother calls. You and your brother must go on from here.’ The Man-at-Arms, his fraternal ally since time immemorial, had been right there next to him the entire time. In truth, it was the Man-at-Arms who actually helped the Crone get the Flaming Sword out of his asylum in the first place, a challenge that came as an uneasy task as both he and his brother had to face the trials of Andromeda’s scorching summit together. But that, my dear friends, is an epic story of comedy and tragedy best left for another time. With the imminent fusion between Father Sky and the vanguard nexus approaching fast, the Crone gave them both her last blessing before joining the rest of the Sisters of Mercy, many of whom had already begun to fall back from the legionnaires’ approach pattern to the living portal. As she started pulling away from him and his brother, she suddenly stopped and turned to them one last time. ‘What is the phrase the Earthlings use… oh yes, I remember now. We will see you all on the flip side. When the time is right, I will make myself known to you. This is a promise I keep forever, as you are and always will be the sons of the Sisterhood.’ The Zenith looked to his brother, then back at the Crone. They could have sworn that they saw something resembling a human smile on her face, an expression that could only be understood in the context of a mother letting go with the soulful countenance of pride, joy, remorse, and sadness as her children grow to find their own way in a world of dangerous pitfalls, resounding adventures, glorious battles, and heroic victories. To the galactic community, she was the Primer Nonna. To the Sisterhood she was the Shahzadi Prima. But to the end of all that is good and right, she would forever be known by him and his brother as the one called Mother, the strident unwavering celestial guardian guiding them both into a new age with the Lamp of Illumination and the Moorish Legacy.

‘The Twin Pillars await. It’s time to rally the troops.’ Affected by the Crone’s farewell, the Man-at-Arms could see his brother lost in brooding contemplation. Until now, it really hadn’t occurred to either of them that they would have to be separated from the Crone and the Sisters of Mercy. ‘We will see her again. This is not the end, only the beginning.’ He understood his brother well enough to know that the Flaming Sword would reach all the way down into the firmament of his own soul and transform this somber detachment from the Sisterhood into an impassioned battle cry for Mother Earth that would send even the hounds of Gehinnom running for cover. The ecological disasters. The crimes against humanity. Human trafficking. Toxic waste. Pharmaceutical drug lords. Multinational crime syndicates. Corporate conglomerates. Economic slavery. Ethnic cleansing. Mass killings. Brainwashing. Mind control. Social conditioning. Genetic mutations. The Man-at-Arms could see it all coming around the bend like a feral madness welling up in his brother’s eyes. The two-party system and the sea of turmoil itself would rise like a typhoon of plagues against humanity. The blade and the chalice were about to erupt within the very essence of the legionnaires as the words began to flow like magma from the Thorn of Andromeda.

‘We stand here before Gaia, our injured mother, as proof that nothing in this realm is impossible — NOTHING!’ The defiant verses echoed with a powerful frequency throughout the inner kingdom like an ascending orchestra in the bowels of a canyon mesa. ‘We stand here before our enemies and the Empire itself as proof that no one can steal our legacy — NO ONE!’

‘NOTHING… NO ONE… OUR MOTHER… OUR LEGACY…’ The vanguard nexus began matching his versed frequency with their own bold reiterating resonance. This momentum instigated a harmonic harangue from the Gnostics of Hu who met the rising chorus with a trumpeting declaration from the galactic community. ‘NOTHING… NO ONE… OUR MOTHER… OUR LEGACY…’

‘We may have come on different ships, but we’re all in the same boat now! Those words were spoken by a visionary trailblazer, one of our greatest predecessors cut down in his prime by the warlords of oppression. We have heeded the desperate call of our ancestors and we, the children of Earth, will not fail them now!’ From deep within, the dancing drums of the Katsinum warriors had returned as the rose of Venus and the spear of Mars stirred restlessly with the rhythmic menses of Tiamat, their ancient sister of mud and clay. ‘NOTHING… NO ONE… OUR MOTHER… OUR LEGACY…’

Entering a brief moment of silent meditation, the Flaming Sword turned to face the Hadaalt’e Passage as if something was communicating with him through the portal. It affected the Man-at-Arms equally as he heard exactly what his brother had become so mesmerized by. Of all the things it could have been, a time variance had begun flowing through the portal carrying the flavor of pivotal songs from Earth’s revolutionary minstrels. In a shocking display of the screaming womb, Mother Earth was actually using Father Sky to amplify a temporal manifestation of multiple vocal declarations represented by the voices of the day. Everything from Aretha Franklin to Black Sabbath had crystalized into a recognizable weaving patchwork of alternating sound bites, lyrics, and stanzas as the portal fine-tuned the message being delivered. The Hadaalt’e Passage had become the bandwidth to El Gato’s radio dial. Gaia was speaking to her sons and daughters.

‘Yes, Mother, they will pay dearly for what they have done. The three crowns of the shadowed empire will fall on their sword. The severed heads of Vaticano, Columbia, and Londinium will hang from the rooftops of the world among the halls of cosmic justice. This, we promise.’ El Gato had now transformed into a roiling cyclone surging with the solar winds of Sol Invictus. The Man-at-Arms witnessed the heated crest of Mother Earth burn into his brother’s forehead like the scarred cinders of unbridled contempt. Branded, the golden-hearted shield and the silver-tongued sword had been chosen. ‘Father Sky has opened the gates of redemption. In the name of Solomon and the seal of the Krists, this is our kingdom, this is our covenant. It belongs to us and we are taking it back! THIS IS OUR WORLD!’ Led by the Flaming Sword and the Man-at-Arms, the word had been given. The cosmic raid of the vanguard brigade had begun with a supernatural rampaging descent right into the mouth of Father Sky. With a deafening raucous fever pitch, the legionnaires had now reached the point of no return giving the Gnostics of Hu a stirring vocal chorale. ‘OUR KINGDOM… OUR WORLD… OUR HOME… OUR COVENANT… NOTHING… NO ONE… OUR MOTHER… OUR LEGACY…’ The high voltage echoing tirade barreled through El Gato’s interdimensional cyclone like a hive of millions homing in on the sweet nectar of a long-overdue heavyweight championship title bout for the ages. The spiritual insurrection was at hand as the imposing influx of the Legions of Light delivered a commanding eviction notice to the Armies of Darkness.

Standing watch in the distance, you could see the Sisterhood gathering as they waved goodbye to Brother Cobalt and Brother Crimson, the last ones to journey through the Hadaalt’e Passage. As the Twin Pillars descended into Father Sky’s once and final embrace, they witnessed a rather unsettling vision emanating from El Gato, an alarming disclosure that seemed to be revealing itself within the probability factors of the future-tense.

‘We knew this would happen eventually,’ said Brother Cobalt. ‘They must be made aware of this and prepare for all potential scenarios.’ The Gnostics of Hu began drifting into the cosmic mists, dissipating into the upper realms of existence as the Twin Pillars merged into the stream of consciousness. Father Sky, who had started phasing out of the visible spectrum of light, began his gradual descent back to the sea. ‘We will send a message to them one last time,’ replied Brother Crimson. ‘May the thunder and the lightning be victorious in the new century.’

The next seventy years would prove to be quite interesting. Becoming the Temple of Solomon’s political, cultural, and economic insurgency, adventu en missa planetáris led the way to the reincarnation of a new league of extraordinary men and women, teachers of the masses, to combat the assassins of truth and their sadistic psi-borg syndicate of economic slavery. The Moorish Legacy and the Star of David were on the move as the human race was about to come face to face with a brand-new form of guerrilla warfare, the Crop Circle Rebellion.

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Richard is the CEO of the Human Origins Foundation. As the author of a thought-provoking book series, he has a passion for the lost knowledge of our human origins throughout the cosmos, including extraterrestrial life, ancient astronauts, current affairs, and the human being’s place in the scheme of things. Stay up to date and be the first to know about his articles.