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Elizabeth just had a brilliant idea actually.
Why not just print her rumbled heap of scattered notes… just as it is. In four volumes if needed.

What Lemone was saying in his Words of Comfort for the Descended already?

It’s not the writer’s job to piece the stuff life is made of together, it’s the job of the reader.

“Bloody good point,” she’d be keoon saying.
Trust the reader to take what they want, read on impulse… Whatever or not… She had a feeling that in the future when people are reading her stuff, that it will make more sense to them than to current day average readers.
She was so leading-edge.

Of course, her editor would make a fuss, but he would have no other choice than recognize her genioos.

How exciting it all was.

She was squatting on the sand beach, near the now calm ocean. The light was so dim that she barely could see the devastation, shards of coconut and palm trees spread on the shore, but the sound of the ocean was soothing.

Aaah she had hold that pee for too long.

“MAaaAVIS!” That suave authoritative voice must have been Sha’s.
“COooOMING!” Tsk. One can’t have a pee alone…

While she was readjusting her two pieces bath suit, ready to come back to the improvised discotheque, her attention was caught by something on the beach. A fire?
She squinted her little beady eyes to discard any of the hallucinatory visions that sometimes she had.

“MA-VIS!”
“BLODDY COMIN’!” a hint of exasperation. “Mrs Sharon Stone, you ain’t the queen here” she thought. “I can go look for adventure meself, if I want to”.
Besides, the fire didn’t seem to be too far away.

With the darkness that made very difficult their progress, Akita had made them stop near the shore, where they would see any trouble coming and had ordered the small troop to collect twigs and bits of wood to light a fire.
The parents were still in a bit of a shock, and were staying with a blank gaze, looking with an air of wildness at the soothing sound of the waves. Anita was playing nearby, drawing things in the sand, muttering words to herself.
That was a good thing that Claude was there. Unlike the others, he seemed quite strong, and the adventure didn’t seem to have left him short of resources.
He had been on the island before, and had said they had to avoid the constructions, which were all owned by the same people.
For all that mattered, Akita wanted to get to the authorities as soon as possible, but he had to compromise: they would settle close enough to have a check around and see if it would be safe to go there.

In a minute, Claude had been roaming through the woods and had gathered a pile of wood. That guy was pretty amazing, Akita was thinking. Odd that he had retained his supernatural strength… At least, Akita had imagined that the guy’s strength was the result of the spider exposure, but now he started to doubt it. He had been sketchy to say the least around the circumstances of his presence.
As far as he himself was concerned, Akita wished he had retained somewhere his connection to Kay, wherever his spirit dog was. What the creature had said? That veils were thicker, but not impermeable… Or something around that.

I think they’re still hanging around

What? What did you say? But Anita didn’t answer. Perhaps his tired mind was imagining things.

With all that rain soaked wood, it would be difficult to get anything but smoke.

I’ve got a lighter Claude handed him an expensive ziraf that flashed moon reflection in his eyes.

Let’s get started then.

What now?

A roaring sound of a flying thing startled Mavis, passing over her head.

Mmm… this island’s getting too crowded, me think. Must be another of Vessie’s guests… That gal sure’s got how to use her sex-apple.”

Fabella had just entered the room. She was chatting noisily, as if someone would answer to her. The sound of her footsteps was playing strange ripples on the wooden floor which were mesmerizing to look at.

“Years ago, I’d have felt obliged to answer her” she was thinking, as she was hovering over her body looking at the freckled nurse.
“I’d felt obliged by some nonsensical politeness to give her the impression that I was, somewhat, paying attention to her as a person —if not to her chatter.”
She laughed wholeheartedly.

“Oh, you’re smiling Madam, but that ain’t the whole thing, you know! Would you imagine that Miss Elena, after such an outcry would have become wiser, but no…”

The voice was continuing an endless litany of gossips.
It was obvious that the nurse wasn’t trying to get any answer, much less a conversation from the old body she was giving her daily injection to, she had found out. All the more since that body was so weak and talking was taking more energy than she was willing to give to this action. It was so much more exhilarating to play out of it.
She was proud of herself, having come to a place not only to feel accepting of that bodily condition that had left her riveted to her chair and bed at an early age, but more so, to feel grateful for it.

The first steps had been the most difficult: a whole new world so vast it was feeling as wide as a crocodile’s mouth menacing to engulf her. But like the crocodile’s mouth, it was easier to shut it close than one would think, and she had found out that she would snap back to her body each time she was distressed. Quite the opposite of what an adventurous mind like hers would endeavour to conquer. She had no care for her dying body, not with this new-found freedom.
Perhaps it was a mere springboard for her to get accustomed to death. That’s what her brother had told her once. But he was so fully soaking in religious beliefs that she didn’t know how to handle that he had merely said to her as a gift.
All that was important was the exploration, which was real to her. And it was, not only to her, but to others too.

For instance, she was now walking, still around Fabella, observing the interplay of the nurse’s energy field with the other people around her, even though Fabella had finished dealing with her minutes ago.
In fact, she knew more about Fabella than she could have learned in years of monologues with her. Things like that Ricardo wasn’t the caring guy he was pretending to be with her. But then, she didn’t know how to tell her (and if she had even the right to). She had the feeling that perhaps Ricardo and Fabella’s stories were just distractions that she had found to limit herself in the familiar of her little explorations.
There was so much more that she could do, she could feel it. There were no boundaries to it.
She could will herself to be in any place, unnoticed by most.

Perhaps she could try a “jump” to another location. Trusting that she would come back, as she always had. If if she wouldn’t… well, that could well mean an improvement after all.
What about something easy? Like some uncharted paradisaical island in the Pacific…

“Okay,” Al started.
“At the essence of I Ching, is the notion that everything is mutable, and changes. Everything changes, except the law that says that everything changes.
“In many ways, the I Ching is like a book where the pages numbering change every time you start to read it. Not unlike our story composition.”

“I get that,” answered Tina, interested by what would come out.

“So,” Al continued, always disagreeably pondering, Tina would say. “usually, when people are drawing to read from the I Ching, they have six numbers that give an hexagram. And these numbers are carrying into them their potential change, which usually gives another hexagram to read.”
“In our stories, the entries have a fixed identity, which is given by the system; this is our starting point. For your comments, this is ’4-191-328’.
“But as everything evolves, our entries are given an order in the book; this order is changeable, and that’s what I will use for the second hexagram; in your case it’s ’2-151-223’.”
“If you say so…” Tina sighed, a bit lost.
“Oh, I’m inventing the rules as we speak,” Al said trying to reassure her somewhat.
“I don’t know if that makes me feel better” she said.

“Okay. Now, I need to create the hexagrams; hexagrams are defined by six straight or broken lines; zero or one, binary system. Here, Chinese usually use the convention that odd is straight, and even is broken… Ahaha, doesn’t seem to make sense, but odd is male, unbalanced into action, and is associated with single, straight things. Broken is paired, complete in reflection, unbalanced in passivity.”

“And I wonder when we actually start to hear something that makes sense?” whispered Tina, a bit crossly.

“Okay, the thing I see, is that I have trouble making one hexagram with seven numbers, ahaha”, Al laughed a bit embarrassed.

“Oh, then no point in wiggling like that” said Tina very sweetly, “Scrap any bit that bothers you”.

“Okay, anyway we can go deeper into them afterwards if needed; I’ll scrap the first number rather than the last, because you see, 2 and 4 are both even, and thus there is no mutation here.”

“So here we are, if we scrap the bottom one, we get…”

The door of the garage opened with a creaking sound, and Madame Chesterhope sped up into the gritty alley.
In that dimension where she had hidden her command base, people were a bit sloppy about roads and tarmac, so she had designed a little modification on her machines to be able to levitate in some of the less practical areas; but she had to admit,… she loved the vibrations and bumps that the motorbike created with the friction of the ground surface.
She started to giggle, all enthusiastic about the speed and the wind in her hair, that she ignored the road sign indicating that the road was flooded some miles ahead. The rain had been pouring cabbages all past hexades, so much so that her leather suit was in all honesty the best thing she could have worn, not to mention the fact of course, that it was making her totally sexy.
Two peasants were coming her way, looking at her with wild eyes like they had just seen something otherworldly. Ahahah she laughed, the fools would soon have forgotten everything about it (another handy and sly magical modification she nodded to herself). Looking in her rear mirror, she could still see them wiggle their hands in a frenzy… What the fl…!

On the road, the two peasants wondered what in the name of Shaint Lejus was that rider… But worse, it was heading straight to the pool that the swollen river had made recently, outpouring on fields and little sniggly and thorny paths, like this one. Making desperate signs to be seen and warn it, they watched in horror the black podgy thing with flabby flapping schpurniatz arms sink straight to the bottom of the pool.

The landing was a bit bumpy, but she found her balance quickly. Those transdimensional puddles were a bit rough to get accustomed to, but once you knew how to manipulate it, you couldn’t forget it.
Now, all she needed to got to the location she was heading to was to hop through a few more transdimensional puddles.
Actually, all sorts of puddles could do the job, water puddles, even oil puddles… or run-over poodle puddles for that matter. She preferred water ones, for the quality of water was very fluid, and allowed for easier defocusing. Lately she had tried transdimensional exhaust fumes clouddles, but that was a bit disorienting more than helping.
As far as she could tell, this first one had been projecting her to a dimension in between Earth and the Duane. Incorporating vibrational qualities of the two, with a little more rigidity though. The machine needed a little time to stabilize and get prepared for the next transdimensional jump.
As far as she could tell, she was in a place that was not unlike her birthplace, in the countryside of England. There were occasionally some giveaways that she still wasn’t quite there yet, like an erratic flying schpurniatz, but she was close now.
A few meters in front of her, she could see a lovely puddle that could do for the next jump. A bit small for her… well, motorbike, what were you thinking… but that would probably do it. She took another breath, then pushed the TDPP (Trans-Dimensional Puddle Propeller) button.

Flof-flof-flof-flof…
Bugger, bugger…. What the bloody heck!

Straw was flying all over her hair, and obfuscating her vision… Darn last puddle had to much mud in it, and her concentration went off for a split second, heading her towards a field of barley.
Turning round and round for a moment in complete disorientation, she finally pushed the levitation button to take a little altitude.
Oh, now,… at least she could tell she was in England, because she knew that place.
How perfect! She could now just move into the dimension to the Pacific island. The GPS included in the modern expensive motorbike had been bipping as soon as it had found again the satellites, and it was now pointing the direction.
Giggling again, she pushed a new button and disappeared into the sky in a supersonic puff of smoke.

a few days later, Chestershire, UK

AFP - 2008-07-21 - An new amazing design has been reported by eye-witnesses
on a crop of barley of a local farmer along with reports of strange booming sounds
and orbs of light. A sight to behold, the delicate intricacy of these interwoven
patterns is believed by many to be the work of the Crop-circle Makers, some
alien intelligence desiring to communicate with us. The theme of this crop-circle
is thought to be a variation on planet Venus cycles, and would be highlighting
the number of cycles lefts until the notorious end-date of Mayan calendar,
Dec. 21st 2012. Scientists have brushed off the allegations of elderly pranksters,
as this one seemed to have required levels of astronomical knowledge far beyond
human intelligence.

When Veranassessee entered the room, looking for the guests, she was startled to discover the awful mess.

At first, she thought the cyclone Ycart may have been doing the wreckage, but soon she found out that no wall was gone, so it was obviously coming from inside the facility.

What the…

The super-calculator computer had been torn apart, and the electronic insides spread out everywhere.
The Confregration would be furious that all was left of their precious asset they entrusted the mad (mmm, mentally challenged) doctor to carry out his insane (err… unusual) experiments was a big pile of unworkable chunks.
She was thinking of how she could cover up that mess… given that the doctor was still probably reeling in frilly suspenders and silky dresses, she had time to clean up a bit. The Doc would probably won’t notice a difference, as megalomaniac as he was, he wouldn’t admit that a great part of his strides in his researches on spider genome were coming from the super-calculator…
That nose of a b… nurse Bellamy was probably cleaning up his drool, so she might have enough time to act.

Pushing aside a few coconuts, Veranassessee backed away suddenly…

A trail of purple blood now?

— Tina, don’t listen, she’s only a clone!

AHAHAHAH, now that’s Dory calling us delusional, see Finn…
I told you she’s a mad woman, believing all
that stuff about ancient pyramids in Spain ahahaha

— I’m not schizophrenic, no no!

And now she only speaks about that Wrick she’s just met…

— STOP THE VOICES IN MY HEAD!

Focus on what you KNOW, BE in the NOW

~ I AM ~

I KNOW I am more than what I appear to be.
I KNOW it is all One Experience.
I KNOW I don’t need to know everything, and if I do, information will appear.

~ I KNOW I AM ~

New Venice, July, 1 ^st 2035

The night was hot in New Venice at this time of the year. The weather patterns had been steadily shifting for many years, and the climate was now sub-tropical in the inundated Big Apple, as more and more people resented the usual coldness of winters, and had subjectively agreed upon a heightening of the temperatures of a few degrees.

Though accustomed to tell his body to relax, and vibrate at a lower frequency to counteract the sticky and displeasing effects of the heat, Al was finding sleep hard to find. Usually, he would attribute those moments of twitching slumberness to mass accessing of subjective information and bringing them to the objective. With the eclipse that would occur in the next weeks, those were still time of great cosmic synchronistic congruence.

Needless to say, he and Tina had been somewhat stirred by Becky’s sudden casualness, and relative abandon not only of the Reality Play but also of her three lovely first born to her friends.
People of that mysterious facility that Becky had briefly spoken so highly of had been doing a fantastic job, considering the very early birth, but still, Al had soon noticed the babies were displaying some kind of emotionless state which was eerie to observe in children that young. He had first thought of a remnant from the birth trauma, but it appeared that they were all perfectly aware, and even more than that, accutely aware of their environment to the point of displaying qualities of awareness akin to telepathy or pre-sentience.

Sam’s innate talent with the young ones had been very beneficial to them, and Al was hoping, would help them access their emotional communications as a guidance system to navigate within the immense and potentially overwhelming quantity of subjective information they were given such an easy access to.

Finally after having spent so much time before the cyputer, Al was collapsing from tiredness. He threw himself on the tatami for a healthy dose of rejuvenating sleep. Or so he thought…

Al woke up with a chill, sweat beading over his eyebrow.
He remembered.
They would come… Hybrids from their future… He remembered having met one a few years ago.
A strange bald guy with piercing eyes and strange snorting twitches on his face. One moment he was talking to him in the middle of the ramp waiting for a condocab, and the moment after, he had forgotten all of this encounter.
The guy had said intently to wait for the time when the Dream would remind them it was the Time of the Reunion.
So what was next? Aliens coming in their aluminum flying saucepans making mosquito sounds?
That sounded awfully like the outrageous rants that old Russian guy named Pasha was making years ago in the archives of Dory —which they had taken as a basis for their Reality Play…

Gosh, that dream was so vivid, it couldn’t be a coincidence… Especially since the first Hybrids to make contact all looked like they were clones of Becky!

Orgetak was fond of taking a crocodile as an animal essence.
He was coming from a fragmentation of some big names of Essence Land, and he shared many connections with lots of other “essences siblings”. In that moment, he was having fun observing Rafaela… though he was having a weird sense of wanting to merge more thoroughly with her… perhaps that crocodile disguise was cloaking his judgment… He wasn’t too sure.

He had focused recently, to catch up with one of Rafaela’s own focuses, a rather famous one, whose genetic pool was a magical blend which would be spread in many new enticing physical probabilities. In a haste, despite of no time by which to measure it, he had created himself a past of an Sri Lankan geneticist named Dr. Gayesh Sitharaya, whose interest (or intent) dwelt in exploring the multiplicity of one individual’s aspects…

— What’s the catch then?
— What do you mean Al?
— Oh, come on Tinipooh, you know there’s always a catch… Surely Becky mentioned that on the phone…
— Ahaha, are we speaking of the same Becky?
— Well, why would that guy help her anyway. And I’m not really sure having another her on the loose is of any help for that matter Sounds more like a world domination plan to me…
— Well, you know Becky, always blissfully jumping in the stream, even if it’s full of piranhas. It’s good she even thought of giving us a call…
— Yeah, too bad our thought reading techniques seem to get less and less reliable these days…

Phurt had been prowling in the woods for some time, but the illuminated structure at the center of the island was more appealing than the damp trees and mud holes to build her nest.
And it was also like a sort of huge container of fat and tender food she could tell.
She had spotted three delicious looking entrées: sorts of human cross between and …

She jumped on the top of the part of the building were the three giggling entrées were heading towards. There was a window on the top of the dome which was easily opened. She wouldn’t attract attention now the rain had ceased, and that way she would be smelling the delicious suntan-cream sauce and pheromone fumet. She started to drool but before she noticed, a large gooey blue snotty pool had landed on the floor just in front of one of the meals.

Good thing the ensuing confusion left her location still concealed, she thought…
She had trouble discerning them as anything else than a big juicy appetizing blob of energy, but Phurt could tell they would come back; apparently, the light was enticing them.

She would wait till they come back…
And build her nest in this warm place full of light…

Phurt started to glide herself through the roof window into the room. She hadn’t noticed how the blinking lights were making her dizzy. It was coming from that strange ball of light…
She started to gaze into it, mesmerized by what she could see…
But somehow, it felt like her energy was becoming more compact…
What was happening?
It was all so fascinating…
Was she shrinking? She loved that feeling, like she was becoming more concentrated, a compact ball of sheer power!
She was hungry for more! She would devore this world!

HEEEEEEEEK!

SPLATCH!

— What was that Glo?!
— A bloddy spider ‘ere! And now it’s all stuck under my foot like bloddy sticky Toilet Paper!
— Oh come on, now we can dance!

~ It’s dark here ~

— Focus on our voices, continue to follow the flow…
— Focus…
— I think I can hear something…
— Yes…
— It’s like rain…

Yes, just like the rain a dreamy voice answered the little girl

So how do we proceed? asked Armelle a bit weary of the transformergence.

— Easy peasy, answered Yuki, all we need to do is focus on the aspects we want to bring into alignement
— Wait, wait, wait! the tone of urgency in Rafaela was baa’ing in their ears What did you say?… How do we do?! Why do you say we have to focus, I say, bee, Focus on Fun and reel in nonsense, and with gusto,… and pesto too, if there is! What do we care about facts, it’s all in your head, You Create your Herbality, and Go with the Fawn!… Unless it is “You are Goat Also”… I think I’m lost here! But really, what did you say, speak clearly, it’s awful, I can’t hear you! Loud and clear Cotton-tail, Load and Clean! Oh, bugger the typos, There are No Secretions,… and why are those frigging mottherflies all around my side whiskers when I can’t put them on my Chimera?!

— What? Rafaela said after an awkward instant.

— Err… Nothing, I think we’ll improvise on that one answered Yuki, a bit overwhelmed.
— Good thinking Einski Armelle retorted. That way, we know for sure we will end up something ridiculous and —how do they say?— mentally challenged?
— Yeah, yeah… As they say, Follow Your Passiflora… encouraged Rafaela with glinting eyes, her whiskers now full of perched yellow mottherflies.

— Okay… At the count of fifty-seven!
— WHAT!?
— Ahaaha, that’s a joke… at the count of five
— ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE!

Can we go now Yurmaela? Akayli was asking to his new reconfigured friend.

Indeed… answered the great winged big-eyed, long-eared, thick-haired creature that had appeared after the three essences had merged together. We’ll fly Claude and Anita on our back to the wortex, on top of the cleared trail. Akayli, you follow our lead with Anita’s parents, and we can all jump to the other dimension and kiss these spiders bye-bye!

— Oh, shite, an aghast Yurick told Finn in the messaging window.
— What? asked Finn who was giggling (with great dignity) at the new comment he’d just made
— There will be retaliations says the cloud:

“quickly storm stupid Dory closer front
try suddenly syncs side free creating
taken empty dreams let thread open
against beautiful picked”…

The confusion that Claude had made on the spiders ranks had been all that Phurt had waited for.
In her agitation she hadn’t felt the signals that the Mother had been hurt during the fight.

The only thing that obsessed Phurt now was that a way was now clear for the giant spider to go nearer the “wortex”. She could feel it, it was coming from the elder tree, the roots of which went spreading miles and miles away.
Perhaps she could subjugate that raw power, consume it wholly and become one with it.

But, as she went closer and closer, she started to feel as if she wasn’t the one eating or absorbing it, but the reverse was true. She started to struggle as she felt sucked into the wortex, crying as she felt doomed to oblivion, as old Narani had been telling them. How stupid had she been, she should have heard her. And as the Mother was now dying instead of becoming the new Mother, she was now about to die with her.
But now was too late for laments. She had to embrace her destiny, and if it meant to die, she would, with pride.

They all had felt it simultaneously. Armelle and the Snoot on the borgulm tree, Yuki and Rafaela, waiting with Anita near the perimeter made by the spiders, and Akayli the werelynx, carrying the mummified parents.

— What’s happening Claude asked to the owl

— One of the giant spiders went through the hole, and we’ll have to follow her said Yuki to Anita.

— The good thing is that the turmoil will keep the wortex opened a little longer Akayli thought to himselves.

Armelle, go open the way now the Snoot whispered to the owl, then poofed away in a gurgling liquid sound.

The portal has opened, we must hurry said Araili

Araili had felt something more, that he didn’t want to share yet with Akita and his spirit dog Kay. He had felt that something, or someone was trying to make its way from the wortex. However, the whole area was tightly held in a sort of quarantine by the giant spiders. Their genetic ancestral memory was aware of previous huge bleedthroughs like this one, and they had what humans would call “prophecies” amongst their kin, of such occurrences being heralds of tremendous upheavals.
Araili, who was extending far beyond this guise of a lynx that he had taken now, smiled when he thought of how some of his earthly medieval focuses would have been similarly frightened by natural events like eclipses.

It did not take long to them to find Anita’s parents. They were right at the spot that the big arachnid had just left, wrapped in silky spider bandages with little skin left to breathe.

— They seem alive. checked Akita. Heavily sedated, but alive… Now, we’ll have to get them out of here quick.
— I think I have an idea smiled Araili.

Claude had finally came out of what he thought was just a strange tree, but then, his preternatural senses where telling him something was wrong. This place looked different. No, this place felt different.
And smelt different too.

There were soft sounds, crawlings he could hear, very near his place. They were coming from him, but he would fight.
He jumped on a tree, and in a few vigorous movements, was perched on top of it.
He almost gapped when he saw the black circle of huge spiderly creatures around his tree.

They were staying at a distance from the wortex. But for how long… He couldn’t wait for his death.

From the top of the tree, Claude jumped unscathed. Taking a look around, he found exactly what he needed.
Breaking a few sharp bamboos poles, he started his move to the black circle in a prodigious and accelerated run.

From atop a nearby tree, Armelle was considering the whole scene. The wortex would probably last a few hours, perhaps a bit more. Anita, Rafaela and Yuki were about to be here soon, she had warned them of the spider circle, so that they would hide until she has found them a way to get through.

She had not expected someone to come out of it. That may be her way…

Phurt was coming closer and closer now. She could feel the surge of power, and the trepidation raising all the hair on her legs. She couldn’t possibly confront all of the sisters. Not yet.
She had to find a way to get past.

As if Arachneiax, Goddess of her kind had heard and answered her plea, a dying cry, confusion, and call for help came to her senses from a border of their circle. A perfect diversion…

The woman’s voice raised softly in the dark, like a velvet caress, or the sound of a purring cat.

Life was long before I met Georges. Not unbearable, but so long and lifeless. Days would pass, and nothing new would happen but the same matter the previous days were made of.
Though I no longer align to these limitations, I was once human, born to Earth, as Georges was, in a not so distant past. Like most of my people, I was not feeling special. But my will was strong and my desire to survive too. I survived poverty, lust and violence. In the crucible of these emotions I’ve melted my fears, and it was there I found Georges too.

A curtain raises in the dark. A palace in an exotic tropical place. Brunei? Al doesn’t know this place…
A young dark haired woman in a small room, around sixteen, perhaps a bit less, disheveled. She looks wildly around her, her rags stained with dust and dirt.

Enters a tall woman. She doesn’t seem local. British perhaps. She’s elegantly dressed, thin mouth, high cheekbones, apparently in charge. A maid follows her. She can speak the girl’s language.

— Where is my mother? Let me out of here! she starts to cry
— I’m afraid this is not possible, Salome. For your safety,…
— What do you care about my safety!
— For your safety, Salome, hear me, try to behave. The Sultan is not a man without a heart. He loves beautiful women, and that is what probably saved your neck, considering what all what your mother did wrong to him refusing to pay taxes and her obstinate and bare-faced smuggling. Listen Salome, this might save you, and might save your mother as well.

The curtain falls on the scene, where Salome hopes to have found a friend of captivity with this woman.

A few years later, still in the golden cage of the harem, occasionally asked to service the lustful and violent Sultan, I start to go explore the depths of my misery. My inner world was a safe sanctuary, a haven from the pit of hell where I was now living, after my childhood years of hard work in the forest. There, where no one was given the key to enter, I became aware of him. I first thought he was an imaginary friend, a messenger from the other world, greeting me to a sure death. But he was real. He started to talk to me. About what I could do, like him, be a Traveler, if I wanted to.

The curtain raises again. Young Salome is lying on her straw mat, in a seeming delirium. She moans, whispers, weeps, laughs. No one in the harem seem to care any longer. She is probably possessed, but the Sultan still find her suitable, she can’t be touched.

A roar can be heard in the palace. The big black-bearded Sultan Ojylam the Second, ogre look on his face, summons his guard.

— Don’t worry Salome, the voice of Georges whispers in the dark. The Sultan is mad at Madame Chesterhope. She has just fled with his precious crystal skull, but he won’t find her. She’s a skilled Traveler too, as soon you will be dear Salome, once you have learnt my last tricks, and we soon will be united.
— Why that stupid crystal skull?
— Don’t worry about it… This one is the Birds Skull. It carries lots of information and magic in relation to the Birds Realm, but it should be the least of your concerns. We’ll find Madame Chesterhope even if she’s clever at hiding between dimensions. Only concern for you must be to get out of here.
— The Sultan will know I told her about it… I should have known, he was so proud of this object, and so protective too… And she was so curious…
— That’s why we must hurry now.

And so we were united for the first time. Lots of other lives have occurred afterwards, different paths at times, but always we have found each other again. Eternally bound, in a most sacred bound…