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      Yurick was singing [*]

      Well, all you need is love and understanding
      Ring the bell and let the people know
      We’re so happy and we’re celebratin’
      Come on and let your feelings show


        — The legend of Mævel — (Part VII)

        Today was the Day of the Forgotten. Mævel had slept well, nestled into the soft and warm depth of her dreams, her head resting on the short blue fur of the fox.
        In sharp contrast with the lovely night, she awoke strangely irritated. Even the birds songs were like noise to her ears, and every sound of the forest she heard with acute intensity and a sense of being submerged by many sensory inputs.
        Hopefully, the blue fox voice was still very comforting, and she started to wonder how they could come across a Forgotten One in need.

        — I think I know where we can find some Forgotten One in need.
        — Where? asked Mævel

        The fox paused, then answered her question:
        — Near your human parents’ home.

        Mævel was surprised. She trusted the fox, and never had really questioned him, because more than that she trusted her own feelings, but now her feelings were telling her that there was something the fox had not told her. Or had told her partially. She was silent, pondering the unseen implications.

        — Mæ, I’ll try my best to answer your questions, but remember I cannot tell you everything. I can help you remember some things, but there are things that my curse does not allow me to reveal. You have to find them by your own, in order to free us…
        — Free us? I thought you were the one Cursed?…
        — Yes I am, and…
        — How do you know my parent’s home? How much do you know about me?
        — I know you since you are a baby actually. And even before…
        — Before? I don’t understand a thing… I feel there are some unseen links, that I cannot decipher, yet they are so close to…
        — You’re right, there are links, links that are important, and that I cannot reveal.
        — Why can’t you reveal them?
        — Let’s go to your human parent’s home…
        — Why do you always say my human parents?

        The fox blew in front of him, creating a wobbling sound into the air in the form of a ring large enough for them to go through it. And he hopped inside, disappearing in mid-air.

        Mævel was perplexed, but did not hesitate. She hopped too into the watery ring in front of her and found herself falling into a void, to reemerge on a bed of dry leaves in front of her parent’s home. Blohmrik the blue fox was seated in front of her, observing a shadowy form at a distance in front of them.

        — Is that the Forgotten One we will help?
        — Yes.
        — Why do you need me? You could help her, couldn’t you?
        — She wouldn’t see me, Forgotten Ones are usually obsessed by a few people, those who they feel can remember them, and don’t usually see other people. Their perception is quite different than ours.
        — Hang on a minute… Why do you think she will see me?

        Mævel looked into the eyes of the fox, and she knew.

        — We are linked.

        It was more an affirmation than a question.
        Mævel wondered who that shadowy figure was. When she focused on her, the form was getting more solid, and she could catch glimpses of how she looked like. And she was surprised. She was about her age, with long blond hair as hers.
        Mævel’s voice was broken:
        — My parents had told me I was about to die when I was a baby, then by a sort of miracle, I became healthy… Was that true?… I mean… Was that a gentle way of telling me that I had a twin who died or…
        — No, Mæ. She is not you. She is not linked to you by blood. You can talk to her, she will listen to you.

        So Mævel went to see the shadowy figure. She had stopped wandering and trying to find an opening around the house, for there were none for spirits: all openings were locked by stripes of red cloth hung onto the doors and windows.
        Mævel felt the pain of the Forgotten One as she approached her.

        — Who are you? she suddenly asked Mævel, raising her head at her approach.
        — I am Mævel.
        Mævel… It means marvel of Maÿ… I was born in Maÿ…
        — What are you doing here?
        — This is my parents’ home.
        — How is that possible?
        — Twenty one year ago, I was taken away from them, given to Shaint Lejüs in place of a fairy princess. But Shaint Lejüs was no fool, he had sent his apprentice to spy on the fairy king.
        — Blohmrik?!
        — Yes, Blohmrik… But Blohmrik disobeyed the Elder God, and when he saw the exchange that was about to happen, he let it happen. He wanted to protect the fairy princess from his master. Because Shaint Lejüs wanted the princess as a bride. Ahahaha, how disappointed Lejüs was when he saw that I could not perform the most basic magic spells. I was good at nothing, so he let me go wandering into his Realm. He’d just thought the half-fairy princess had inherited no magic from her father.
        — How do you know all that?

        — I told her, the blue fox said. I was hoping to bring her relief. But she started to look for her parents, and Lejüs discovered the truth… Because she was not looking for a fairy king. She was heading here, year after year.
        — That’s the reason of your curse, is it?
        — Yes. She can’t see me because I was Forgotten too, in that form of a blue fox. But as Forgotten Ones don’t forget, I didn’t forget. I couldn’t tell her, because she couldn’t see me.
        — So, I am that fairy princess you are talking about… that strange idea was starting to dawn on Mævel.
        — Yes. When Lejüs discovered who you were, he wasn’t interested in you any longer, because he thought your magical potential had been irremediably damaged by all those years spent in human company.

        — Who are you talking to? the shadowy figure asked, bemused.
        — Blohmrik, he is here. But it’s untrue, Mævel said, there is magic in me.
        — Yes there is, answered the blue fox, and you can undo what has been done with it.

        Mævel remembered the useless key she had manifested when she had tried to go out of her human parents’ house. She had not even looked at it closely.

        — You can manifest it again Mæ, said the fox. It is with you. You are its lock.

        And no sooner had Mævel thought of the big rusted key, than it appeared in her hand again. But this time the rust on it was crackled, and it started to disintegrate, and a brilliant shiny metal started to show beneath it.

        Scratching what was left of the rust, Mævel started to look at the beautiful key, it was shaped as a musical note, and it had some word written on it, in an ancient language she didn’t know how to read. But she knew the sound when she ran her finger on the surface of the word.

        « Araoni »

        That was her. She was remembering, and everything started to change.


        The wedding of the God Blohmrik, son of Mirÿnda, Goddess of Mirth and of Bälias, God of the Sparkles with Araoni, daughter of the Fairy Queen Theÿa and the Fairy King Aldurion was pronounced on a bright day of Maÿ, in a beautiful orchard in the presence of Araoni’s human parents and sisters and brothers.

        Even Lejüs had been invited, even though he would have preferred to be Forgotten…


        And so my story ends… said Captain Bone to Tomkin.

        — And was the shadow remembered by her true parents? had asked Tomkin.
        — Oh, yes she was… Of course. She just didn’t want to steal the limelight from Mævel, you see. Her parents were happy of course to find back their true daughter.
        — You didn’t tell me the name of the true daughter, did you?
        — No, I didn’t, said Captain Bone with a wink.


          New Venice, November 2101

          Midora was sleeping peacefully in her baby’s bed, and Oscar was dozing on the sofa, exhausted by his new role as a mother.

          Bart was slowly finding himself back to his old studies. Just before Oscar became pregnant with their child, he was occupied with an old parchment his mother Indy had given to him.
          She had said they had found it years ago with Oscar’s mum, her friend Eugenia. It was under a glass frame, among many other stuff she had accumulated along the years, mundane bric-a-brac flirting with sublime antiques —such was her mother strange decorative style…
          Bart had known the parchment all his life, and her mother had sworn he would have it when the time would be right. During all this time he had thought she would most probably forget it altogether.

          When Bill, his father had disengaged, two years before (only two months before the New Century’s festivities, at the age of 79) Indy had said she needed to make some room in her apartment, and get rid of old things which were full of memories. After all, she was only 49, and Bill hadn’t wanted to see her wither in sadness, that would be such a waste.
          She had given him the old parchment.

          Bart had always been so close to his mother, probably because she had him so young. She was 16 when they had married with Bill, and Bart was born right after. Of course, she always played the old flattery trick when people said she must be his big sister; it wasn’t actually far from the truth.

          When he was younger, Bart had fearful dreams, of dying in atrocious pain, full of rash, at a young age in an alien and sunny place.
          Curious as to what hint it may have been, Indy had been connecting with him to the energy of the dream. And together, they had tried to find the reason of that manifestation in the young boy’s dreams.
          Despite her having such a fleeting memory, India Louise was skilled at connecting to other focuses, and particularly group ones, and Bart had found many information thanks to her. And the fearful dreams had disappeared.
          He had found he was a young prince heir of the throne of Egypt, who was supposed to marry his sister. But both had died very suddenly. It was not quite clear as to whether the illness was the result of a plot from their father Pharaoh’s enemies, but the death was very unpleasant.
          So unlike Bill’s disengagement, which was peaceful and full of love.

          So yes, people were not far from the truth when they saw them as brother and sister.
          According to Indy, the parchment was found within a cache inside the sister mummy’s sarcophagus, and might be linked to their shared focus. But her own psychic skills only extended as far as to notice connections, not as to go into more depths. That investigation, he would be able to do.


          Egypt, 2657 B.C.

          Lekshen had finished writing down what the long snouted god of his dream, Set had dictated to him.

          It was a strange story, of Set being the god of the pariahs, throwing down structures of the Holy and the Truth, for the sake of expansion. Lekshen couldn’t understand all of what he had been talked into writing, but he had felt an intense activity and thrusts of gushing energy passing through him.

          He needed sleep before hiding the text with the mummy.


          Paris, 2007

          :tile: That symbol, Quintin had dreamt repeatedly about it… It was a tile, he was sure. It could be oriented in two ways, and, depending on its orientation, it meant either injection or ejection of energy structures. It was linked to the family of the Speakers.

          Let’s insert it again then, he smiled to himself.


          When he connected with the symbols written on the parchment, Bartholomew was astounded. The energy was so familiar.
          There was a book coming from his mother. She had inherited it from her aunt, Guiny… She probably got it herself from her mother Margaret, or perhaps her step-mother BeckyBart wasn’t too sure…

          Finally, he found it. Inside the cover, there was a dedication. To you, dear Becky, happy birthday! With love, Kathy (2017).
          Kathy, Kathy… A flash of a rainbow-coloured anaconda into Bart’s mind… Must have been one of Dory’s friends.

          “There was once a god who was not a god — who was not a god, for you are dealing with legends,” he said, nearly whispering. “There was a god in ancient Egypt, and his name was Seth, and he was disreputable. And he threw aside establishments, whenever other gods rose up and said, “We are the truth, we are pure and we are holy,” this disreputable god stood up, and with a voice like thunder, said: “You are nincompoops!”

          “And the other gods did not like him,” Seth continued in his story-telling whisper, “and whenever they set up their altars, he came like thunder, but playfully, and tossed the altars asunder, and he said “Storms are natural, and good, and a part of the earth, even as placid skies are. Winds are good. Questions are good. Males and females are good. Even gods and demons are good, if you must believe in demons. But, structures are limited!”.

          “And so this god, who was not a god, called Seth, went about kicking apart the structures, and he gathered about him others who kicked apart the structures. And they were themselves, whether they were male or female. Whether they thought of themselves as good or bad, or summer or winter, or as old or as young, they were creators. They were questioners.

          “And whenever another personality set itself up and said, “I am the god before you, and my word is law,” then Seth went about saying, “You are a nincompoop,” and began to kick apart the structures. And so you are yourselves, in your way, all Seths, for you kick apart the structures, and you are the black sheep of the religions, and the black sheep of the scientists, and the black sheep of the physicians, and the black sheep of the your mothers and your fathers, and your sisters and your brothers.

          “And yet, the mothers and the fathers and the sisters and the brothers listen,” Seth went on in that quiet voice in that quiet room. “for they do not have the courage to be the black sheep…”

          Conversations With Seth, Volume 1, Chapter 9, by Susan Watkins


            Asaris — The blue men’s world — by Írtak

            The race of the blue men was originating from a far off star system they called Asaris in a dimension quite different from the ones of Quintin and of Malvina.
            Their connection with us is quite interesting in that they have managed to project aspects of themselves in other dimensions and give them shapes. One blue man, in a manner of speaking, may be the “result” of a common projection by several inhabitants of Asaris, merged aspects and common intent. They can be associated with pop-ins in a way, or with energy exchange, but the action is different.

            While projecting, they are aware of their own focus in Asaris and of the other focuses they are projecting in other dimensions. Some of them can do that in many dimensions… I’ve not yet been able to really understand the process and how they can maintain the focuses… but that is filtered through my current understanding of the process. While different focuses of essences are “independent”, the projections of the blue men are quite connected to their originating point in Asaris.

            Andrimiñ is one of them. One of the participating essence is connected to Blöhmul who also have focuses in the other dimensions. In him I feel also the essence Tomkin.


              Sam had been feeling crap for several days now, and though it was very uncomfortable, he also felt it was for him to pay attention to what he was doing. He also knew he wasn’t alone doing this; many other energies were present and doing their own explorations.

              No separation.

              He was feeling that more and more. No separation between his focuses, and with his counterparts also, and with every focus and every aspect of consciousness.
              It felt very odd, and he was quite having a hard time trying to sort all this out or clarify what he was doing; what was himself, or what wasn’t, though it was :yahoo_at_wits_end:

              Well better not to think too hard of it — the usual way of thinking was quite unable to translate now. He would have to create his own thought patterns and find ways to communicate with others differently. :weather-showers: :weather-storm: :weather-snow: :weather-overcast: :weather-few-clouds: :weather-few-clouds-night: :weather-clear:

              Most important was his own perception of self and what he was able to create, what was all this judgment thing about? He still couldn’t understand… all the intricacies of it.



                Finn felt the time had come to call a meeting.

                She closed her eyes and waited to see which of the others would appear.

                Yuni1 arrived first. Yuni had first arrived in her meditations about a year ago, a playful, mischievous character, gnomelike, who nonetheless had always given her very wise and practical advise. Armelle the wise Owl appeared next, silently, her loving energy enveloping Finn. The Indian also appeared. Finn did not know the Indian’s name, she called him White Feather and she was pleased to see him there, having not seen him for some time. A playful Lemur came bounding over. There were several other energies present and Finn knew they would make their identity known if needed, but she could feel their support.

                I have been feeling quite heavy for several months now and it has been becoming more intense. I am tired of it. It’s as though I am wearing the cloak of heaviness again. I don’t understand it, and I don’t know how to take it off, Finn announced to the assembled group.

                I want to know if you can help me?

                Yuni spoke first, or rather he waved the faith document2 at her. Finn winced. She remembered the document well. I didn’t know you meant this long, she said quietly.

                Armelle gave her a gift. When Finn opened the box, there was a joyful explosion of light and colour. There was also a key.

                The key is Self Trust, said Finn, answering Armelle’s unspoken question.

                White Feather had been whittling a piece of wood. He handed it to Finn. It was a staff. This symbolises powerful magic, he told her.

                Finn felt herself withdraw, not wanting to cause offense and reject the gift, yet not feeling worthy.

                This is your decision, said White Feather

                Finn felt Armelle smile at her. She took the staff and thanked White Feather.

                Do you remember the boxes you made as a child? asked Armelle

                Finn nodded. It was one of the games she had loved to play with her older sister, transforming old cardboard boxes into designer rooms. They would painstakingly and lovingly decorate the interiors to create new worlds. Once the rooms were created they may play with them for a few minutes, but would pretty soon be onto the next one, it was the creating they loved.

                Cast your mind back a few years, Armelle said. What were the things you wanted then?

                Finn cast her mind back.

                You have it all don’t you, said Armelle gently.

                Yes I do, said Finn. Everything I wanted I have in my life.

                You have created powerfully Finn.

                Why do I feel so heavy? I suppose because what I thought I wanted has changed and I am trying to still keep it the same. Finn wanted to cry.

                I don’t really know what I want anymore though.

                What do you know? asked Armelle

                I know how I want to feel.


                Finn was on a raft, floating downstream. She closed her eyes and decided to let the river take her where it will.

                1Finn had tried to spell Yuni’s name as Uni initially, interpreting him to be symbolic of one of the “faeries of the Universe”, however Yuni had been adamant that was not the correct spelling. When Finn looked up Yuni only meaning she could find was “man from Iunu”.

                2 The “Faith Document” was like a legal document Yuni gave Finn to sign, indicating that whatever happened she would keep trusting. Finn was surprised to note when she looked up in her records that this was November 1 st, exactly a year ago.


                  Mmmm, Captain,… isn’t that legend a bit long-winded? Tomkin had asked to Captain Bone.

                  It had been six nights now that the Captain had told bits of that legend to Tomkin, and even if it was entertaining, Tomkin was more and more impatient to get back to meatier stuff, like galleons full of ancient magical treasures, corsairs from the Warring Kingdoms coasts, strange unknown races from far-off lands… that would be more mouth-watering than this endless legend…

                  Captain Bone had laughed.

                  — Aaaaah, Tomkin… of course you know I like to tell long stories, and make them longer each time I recall them, but you see, there is also a point in all of that adventure. Mævel’s story is also the story of all of us in a way. Of course, I could tell you how it ends, but in a way it never really ends. More important is for you to see it unfold and that you appreciate the unfolding. The ending is not important in a way. Each and every time this story is recalled, it is different, because it adapts to what is happening right now. Do you see?
                  — So what is the point of telling me that story? It was supposed to tell me something about this strange knotted object, but I don’t see any link.
                  — Ahahahaha, the point is precisely that Tomkin. I am telling you my story, but this object makes you hear your own story through my words.

                  Now, Tomkin Sharple was squatting on the sand near the bonfire lit by Badul’s crew, and he was recalling the words from the Captain. At that time, when he didn’t know a thing about that strange magical object, he had not understood a thing of what the Captain had said.
                  But now, it started to make sense, some sense at least. Each time the Captain had told him bits of the legend, Tomkin had been fidgeting the strange object, making the Captain smile. Perhaps the object’s magic was not only acting as a translation device…
                  There was something more about it. He was no longer sure that the Captain’s story had been what he was recalling. Perhaps it was completely different, and he had translated it…
                  Still, the object had apparently helped him understand what Badul and his men wanted, so it was translating truthfully. But what was a faithful translation?

                  Then, a flash came into Tomkin’s mind. The Captain had given the object to him. He’d said it was about connections. Being connected.
                  Till then, Tomkin had been the only one to touch it. He had not even revealed the source of his gift to Badul.
                  But in the Captain’s case, both of them had been touching it. In sharing that link, they had extended trust to each other, and somehow, they had been mirrors for each other. Perhaps that was what Captain Bone meant when he said that Tomkin was hearing his own story through the Captain’s words.

                  Tomkin laid down on the warm sand, looking at the clear starry night.


                  — The legend of Mævel — (Part VI)

                  Inside the warm burrow, Mævel found a bed of dry leaves and tender moss. She could see some light from the moon, coming through holes in the ground, which were bringing in some fresh air too. Cuddling comfortably into the makeshift bed, she started to sleep peacefully, waiting for her friend the blue fox to come back.


                  Half-asleep on the beach, Tomkin was wondering… What had happened the next morning… This was fuzzy in this memory, as if the events were moving and reorganising themselves. All that he remember was that Mævel had met the blue fox, but there were myriads of possible events, and all of them were possible, dancing now in front of him.
                  He could chose any of them… But, would that make the story the same?
                  Then he recalled that it was his own story… So why make it difficult then…

                  The voice of Captain Bone was resounding in his ear “You find value in hardships, and value is important to you and our kind. In these lands full of magic, we could just do anything, but somehow you’ll find that rare are the people who constantly use magic. Because when magic is used to make things happen instantaneously, it shifts everything around it to accommodate the changes asked by the summoner of the magic. And it can be overwhelming when too big are the differences between the too states, as we are accustomed to live within a continuity. That’s why I tell you to enjoy the ride of that legend.
                  Think of it… You could be Emperor of all Lands if you knew how to use magic for such a feat. But would you do that instantaneously? Slim chances. You wouldn’t know how to behave as an Emperor, and on top of that, you probably would find the new aspect of you who is an Emperor to be overwhelming to your present aspect of little Tomkin.”

                  Okay, Tomkin said… No need to skip directly to the last part… she meets the blue fox in his den, and Mævel learns about the curse of the fox.


                  — Oh, really? Mævel was saying
                  — Yes, I was a bit of a fool… the blue fox was telling her. But, the silver lining is that there is a way to counteract the curse. But I will need your help again, if you want.
                  — I want to help you.
                  — Fine. You know about Shaint Lejüs Festival?
                  — Mmm, yes, my parents told me about that. It’s the Day of the Forgotten, isn’t it?
                  — and of the Accursed Ones.
                  — Oh…
                  — That special day of the year, the Gates of Lejüs’ Realm are opened and Forgotten and Accursed Ones are given a chance to be Remembered or Graced.
                  — Every year? Why then aren’t all of them Remembered?
                  — Mostly because the Living Ones dread this day. They are the only ones to be able to free the Demanders, and they quickly felt haunted by the Demanders. So they did rituals to keep the Demanders away from them, as certainly your human parents did.
                  — Yes, I remember now…
                  — There is another reason actually. Forgotten Ones can only be Remembered when they recover their true name, and only a strong bond like love or some potent magic can force it out of Lejüs’ graps.
                  — And Accursed Ones?
                  — For them to be Graced, they need to do one pure act of altruism.
                  — A simple act?
                  — Don’t be fooled, it’s not as simple as it seems. See, I tried to rescue a woman who was drowning herself into the river, but that hunter thought I was attacking her… The fact was that she was willing to be Forgotten, and that my act was not purely altruistic.
                  — How so? You probably saved her life?
                  — Yes, but that was not what she wanted, and when she cried that I let go of her, I only wanted her out of the waters, because of me…
                  — I understand. And how can I help?
                  — One altruistic act for me would be to help a Forgotten One to be Remembered. That’s what they ask for, but it’s difficult for them to get past the barriers of the Living Ones.
                  Shaint Lejüs Festival is tomorrow…
                  — Yes, have as much rest as you need, Mæ. We will see tomorrow what will occur…


                    On Mount Elok’ram, the old abbot Hrih Chokyam Lin’potshee was gardening.

                    Despite his old age, and his being at the head of the Monastery, Hrih Chokyam was always doing his hour of gardening with great application and talent, as was asked to everyone, from the youngest to the oldest monks studying here.
                    The Monastery was a place of healing and teaching, dedicated to Margilonia, the Elder Goddess thought to have created the Earths. As a matter of fact, gardening was the simplest —yet most effective— way to fully appreciate the grandness and the interconnectedness of the whole of creation.

                    Hrih Chokyam remembered when he was a little child in the vast fertile plateaus in the Eastern part of Dam Adbor, bordering the high mountains. He had always loved the mountains, better than the plains, or the towns where the wars and plots were fomented endlessly. So he was wandering many times in the mountains, to collect herbs and also just for the fun and exhilaration of climbing higher and higher, and seeing the world as a small thing that could be placed into his hands.
                    His parents had wanted him to become a farmer, but some wealthy neighbours had thought he was showing signs of being able to do much better, and even proposed to have him pursue a career in the administration of Dam Adbor’s capital.
                    Young Hrih had considered the proposition for some time, and one day, went deep into the mountains to make his decision.
                    There he’d got this powerful connection with an enveloping warm manifestation of Margilonia, who prompted him to go higher than anyone had ever been on the top of the mountains, were a natural point of great potential magical energy was. Here, she had conveyed to him, he would have a monastery built, a perfectly clear channel for this yet untaped magical energy.

                    Ninety nine years ago that was.
                    Hrih had been higher than any human had ever been, in the search of this point, knowing he would feel it resonate with him. The mountains, he had learned were not as empty as humans had thought, and there were many other kinds of sentient beings living here, far from the wars below.
                    Interestingly, assisted by these magical sentient creatures and Margilonia’s energies, building the structure had been easy. He had never thought harnessing magic would be that easy, perhaps just because the traveling magicians coming at times in the village to do some healing or just funfair exhibitions were making that very difficult, and requiring lots of training.

                    The truth was, magic was everywhere, only people had become blind to it, or just lazy to use it. But old Hrih, even if his eyes were not as sharp as they used to be, could see it clear as day. Magic was in everything. Especially in one’s own very existence.
                    That was the first of the things people coming to learn in the monastery had to understand. Deceptively simple, yet the most difficult lesson for many of them. He had to admit, he had struggled quite a bit with it too, during the endless wandering into the vast mountains. But there had always been a root to eat, or some fresh mushrooms or eggs apparently left here just for him… He laughed now, thinking of it.

                    Hrih’s life had been so fulfilling. He knew he was weak now, and would not see the springing season, and he was thinking he had to choose someone to take care of the monastery. Few people went to stay here, for as they had learned and applied what was to learn, their own passion was coming back to them, and they would not need to stay any longer.

                    But a few days ago, a young one had come, announced to old Hrih by a singing rosy finch.
                    As usual, all was provided when things were ready for it.
                    Hrih had no doubt that the hesitant young man would be the next one to hold the title of Lin’potshee, or “Precious Elder”.


                      Dory will be home in time for The day Of The Dead celebrations at the Meredwen pyramid, Dan! Becky exclaimed excitedly.

                      Dan smiled and said, Yeah, I thought she might make it back in time for that.

                      It was two years since Dory, the psychic archeologist, had discovered two ancient pyramids in the Andalucian mountains.

                      How about we go up there today, Becky, and help with the preparations?

                      Oh YES Dan! Becky replied enthusiastically. Then she sat quite still for some moments, with her eyes closed.

                      Becky? Dan inquired, You ok?

                      She opened her eyes and smiled up at Dan. We’ll have quite a crowd of helpers with us at Meredwen today, she said, I just sent out telepathic invitations to everyone.

                      Dan chuckled and shook his head…he didn’t really understand alot of what Dory and Becky said, but it all seemed right somehow, and it was no skin off his nose to be indulgent and supportive. Their tips about ‘creating his own reality’ had certainly come in handy on the golf course and at the poker table. He started to pack a picnic lunch, still smiling at Becky’s enthusiastic response to his suggestion. That’s what he loved most about Dory and Becky, their passionate enthusiasm for just about anything.


                        Even with the help of the buntifluën, which translated the foreign expressions between the men of the Seas and him, young Tomkin had some difficulty to explain some concepts to the men.

                        When the three boats had landed on the warm shores of Golfindely, Tomkin had been a little anxious about the ominous looking men, especially the giant one, with the big ugly baby face who seemed to be in command.
                        But apparently, Tomkin had found a faithful friend in the black and white myna, and the ugly baby-faced giant had been interested by his unusual talent of being able to understand and communicate with them.

                        I had been two weeks now that the men had arranged a settlement for themselves on these friendly shores, and Tomkin had been quickly adopted by the whole crew.
                        He soon made friend with Jahiz, Austor and even the wild man in shackles —who had told his name unwillingly in energy, that the buntifluën had helped to translate. Tomkin was finding that the wild man, Cpt. Razkÿ, had been a greatly interesting adventurer and had known many places of the lands from where the men came. In fact, he reminded him of Captain Bone.
                        The most difficult to deal with was the chief cook Renouane, who was complaining about the lack of some kind of unknown vegetable to do the meals. Jahiz had comforted Tomkin saying they were all fed up with “cabbage” anyway.

                        The villagers around had become slowly aware of the presence of the foreigners on their lands, but they were relatively accustomed to seeing strange people, and upon seeing that these ones were friendly with Tomkin, they returned to their Scotch bonnets harvests, without much more of an afterthought.

                        Tomkin had helped them to learn basic words of their language, words of greeting (“wallahu”), of thanks (“alami”) etc.
                        But the ugly baby-faced giant (who had said he was “Badul”) was interested in many other things.
                        And the concept Tomkin was now struggling with, to clearly explain it to Badul, was that of the traveling portals.

                        Badul had somehow intuited that the strange shift in the environment they had met in the middle of the Rift, was something due to Unseen action. And when he had heard Tomkin speak about these methods for traveling easily, he had been interested in understanding more of them.
                        Until now, it was a frustrating experience, as the young boy only knew such and such, probably told to him by some others, and not having actually experienced one himself.
                        But the information was good to learn.

                        Bringing back this technology to his land would probably be more interesting than some decorative glowing egg, he was thinking…


                          Young Becky shouted to Dan, Dory’s coming back! She sent an email saying she arrives in Malaga tomorrow night!

                          In actuality, Becky had already known that Dory would be coming back soon. Despite being only a child, she was what would later be known as a Shiftikid, and her telepathic prowess was already well-developed. Well, in point of fact, all children had been born with telepathic skills, all throughout the ages, but the customs of the times had eradicated these gifts usually before the children reached puberty.

                          The young Becky had been in communication with ‘the dead guys’ as they were currently affectionately known, since before her birth. Thanks to all the links on Dory’s computer, Becky had quickly assessed that she herself was Sumari belonging, and Ilda aligned; of an intermediate orientation, and a political focus. She recalled from before her actual physical birth that she had chosen ‘Exploring Connections’ as her intent for this physical focus.

                          Becky had purposefully chosen Dory as a step-mother, as her intention had been to grow up in an environment conducive to her explorations. Dory was also Ilda aligned, and her passion for anthropology, archeology and other cultures and times was naturally a great help to Becky and her favourite game of ‘Focus Hunting’.

                          Becky started to make long lists of all the other focus connections she found, although she had a habit of forgetting where she had started a list, and often started a new list somewhere else. (Dan sometimes commented jokingly that it was almost as if Becky had inherited the ‘forgetful gene’ from her step-mother Dory…..Dan, like most people in those days, believed that genetic characteristics were ‘handed down’ from physical parents).

                          Becky spent many happy hours playing the focus hunting game, and at times had some difficulty in separating the various other focuses from the current focus she was interacting with. This wasn’t a problem with Dory, or with some of her contemporaries, but often caused some misunderstanding with people who were unaware of their other focuses.

                          Becky was delighted that Dory was coming home soon. She was looking forward to hearing about all of Dory’s adventures, and she wanted to share her own funny stories about the current ‘Perception Wave’ they were all experiencing.


                            George, it’s been such a pleasure to meet you, Dory said sincerely, But I think it’s time for me to go home now. My step-daughter Becky will be expecting me, and boy do I ever miss Dan.

                            George laughed pleasantly and said, But of course, I understand! Just be remembering, he added with a twinkle, That I am always available. And I have the ‘whole book’ in my carpet bag.

                            Haha! Dory laughed a trifle rudely. The forgetting chapter… why, she had already forgotten about that! Her mind was already on other things… Dan for instance……


                              Sanso emerged from the dark cave, squinting in the bright sunlight. He could hear a bit of a commotion going on, and while his eyes adjusted to the light, he heard a voice in his head reciting as if from a book:

                              « Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson helped his wife Floribunda onto the camel, and clamboured onto his own. Cranky and Illi were mounted on donkeys, as were Tibn Zig and Tanlil Ubt, their local guides. Three hot dusty days, and two bitterly cold nights away lay their destination: Tsnit n’Agger and the home of the legendary giant of the…… »

                              Sanso found himself looking into the eyes of a curious child, and presumed correctly that the child was Illi. Illi stared at the apparition in indigo blue robes, without mentioning him to the other members of her group. After some moments of wordless communication and understanding, they winked at each other.

                              Sanso, Illi now knew, would lead them to the giant bones.


                                ARONA MEETS THE NANNY

                                Dreamily Arona wandered away from the cave, gently holding the sleeping Yikesy close to her heart. Mandrake the cat followed, elegantly attempting to convey the impression he was there by mere chance, and by some stroke of fortune happened to be heading in the same direction.

                                Arona had no clear idea where she was going, or what her intentions were even. Still this was nothing new for Arona, who was a bit of an aimless wanderer really herself at heart. She pretended she was looking for magic, but really, she wasn’t so sure anymore what she was looking for.


                                Arona was momentarily rendered speechless by a vison up ahead. The most beautiful creature she had ever seen sat no more than 5 dragon-lengths up ahead.
                                Mandrake, she eventually whispered when she had regained her composure, What is this miracle ahead? Is this some maiden’s dream? A heavenly creature come to earth perhaps?

                                A miracle sent by God to save you? suggested Mandrake

                                His near naked body a masterpiece of bronzed skin pulled taut over rippling muscles.

                                Steady on Arona, said Mandrake

                                But you know I am no hapless fool Mandrake, to swoon over a handsome stranger.

                                No, indeed. And might I enquire why for art we art speaking so oddly? asked Mandrake

                                Buggered if I know, answered Arona

                                Despite the bravado she managed to display at times, Arona was very shy, and would never have had the confidence to approach such a godlike creature. However at that moment Yikesy started to cry loudly. The god looked up from his silent reverie and smiled.

                                Oh a baby, he said in a deep melodic voice. I love babies. He came bounding athletically over and gazed down at Yikesy. My, that is an endearingly ugly baby.

                                This is Arona, stuttered Arona, I mean I am Arona, and this is Yikesy, and this is .. Arona looked blankly at Mandrake

                                Mandrake looked unhelpfully back at her, with a rather sarcastic little smile on his face.

                                I am delighted to meet you. Vincentius at your service. May I hold Arona for a few moments?

                                Oh I am sure that could be arranged, snorted Mandrake.

                                Arona glared at Mandrake and decided the time had come to pull herself together. I am so sorry for the misunderstanding, she said charmingly to Vincentius. The baby’s name is Yikesy. And certainly you may hold him for a moment.

                                Vincentius held Yikesy in his strong arms as though he had been cradling little babies all his life.

                                Look this is probably a silly question but you aren’t after a nanny by any chance? Oh no of course you aren’t, said Vincentius, apologetically, seeing the amazed expression on Arona’s face. I am so sorry, just wishful thinking on my part. Please forget I said anything and forgive me for my impudence.

                                Well actually, said Arona, frantically attempting to remain calm, I really have no idea how to look after this baby and I did have a bit of an idea a nanny might be quite useful.

                                Well this is a fortuitous meeting indeed then!

                                But I can’t afford to pay you, she said sadly, unconsciously fiddling with her hair and fluttering her long thick eyelashes.

                                Oh don’t worry about that small detail. I am sure we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement, and Vincentius winked at her.

                                Arona drew herself up to her full height, firmly took Yikesy back and said; I will have you know if you are going to wink at me this can’t possibly work. I have no idea what a wink means. You will have to speak clearly if you have something to say to me.

                                OH bugger bugger bugger! thought Arona. What is it with me and winking. Now I have blown it. BUGGER.

                                But Vincentius just laughed good naturedly, and musically too of course. Perhaps we will just play it by ear then shall we? I am delighted to be your new Nanny :yahoo_big_hug:.


                                  — The legend of Mævel — (Part III)

                                  When the blue fox had disappeared, deep into the woods, Mævel was left wondering if all of that had only been a dream. Perhaps it was just a dream, and something that would make her parents raise their shoulders in dismay.
                                  Especially since she had lost their gift carelessly they would say, the little pearl white ribbon…

                                  She picked up the clothes that were left hanging to dry up in the wind, and came back to the little house.

                                  Of course, her father Jorg noticed that she was not wearing the ribbon, but he was not much of a question asker, and things were or were not, and analyzing them was unnecessary for him. But of course, Ilga noticed it too, and she felt sad for poor Jorg who had endured so many sacrifices to buy the little ribbon that Mævel was no longer wearing. She wanted an explanation! Was it no longer to Mævel’s tastes, had Mævel lost it?

                                  So Mævel, who could not lie to anybody, told them her encounter with Blohmrik, the cursed god in the woods, in the shape of a wounded blue fox… and at each of her words, was seeing their faces more and more disconcerted.
                                  Their poor girl, who was already so different, had completely lost it,… ribbon and all that was left of common sense in her.

                                  So they locked her up in the bedroom, that she was now occupying alone, as all of her brothers and sisters had left. Just to save her from herself, and see if that would help her gain some more solid sense of reality.

                                  Mævel understood her parents, but she was deeply contrite that they could not understand what she had lived. Mævel was still doubting the reality of her meeting the blue fox, so she asked for some sign from the Gods before going to sleep, to see clearly.

                                  That night, Mævel dreamt of a dark-haired young man with a white diadem1 around his head, dressed in a cerulean blue tunic and wearing a sword. He was enshrouded in a warm light and as she took the hand he was extending, they were carried away by a springing scented wind into a meadow of multicoloured flowers, some of which she had not even known could exist. She had felt at home.
                                  When she woke up, in the middle of the night, Mævel was transfixed by the beautiful soothing dream. She could not remember much more, but he had told her something. That there was deep magic in her, and it would help her find her true home, but that she would have to gain back her true name from the Elder God who had took it from her.

                                  She quickly took her decision. She knew she had to search for the blue fox in the forest. But how could she escape the locked bedroom? She was starting to feel desperate again, but she remembered that there was some magic in her, and how she had felt it deeply true in her dream.
                                  As she was focusing on the warm expanding feeling of her dream, an old rusty key materialized in her hand.

                                  1diadem: [ ˈdī-ə-ˌdem (dəm) ] from Greek diadēma, from diadein to bind around; akin to Sanskrit dāman rope — was originally a white ribbon, ending in a knot and two strips that were placed often on the shoulders, that surrounded the head of the king to denote his authority.


                                    You’re not serious, are you? Sanso raised an eyebrow at Arona (who had mysteriously materialized a baby in her arms, in the blink of an eye)

                                    You’re calling it YIKES? Oh well, fair enough….

                                    In a puff of smoke, a Crayola fairy appeared in front of them.

                                    Yes? she said, You called? I’m Fairy Nuf…that’s fun spelled backwards, in case you’re wondering how I got here.

                                    Sanso didn’t really understand what was going on, but had an urge to materialize a baby too.


                                    Thankfully the urge soon passed and he said to Fairy Nuf politely, There must be a mistake, but thank you for calling. I hope it didn’t inconvenience you.

                                    Call me anytime, I’m available 24/7, sweetie….and in an puff of smoke, she was gone.


                                      Gibraltar, Spain, October, 23 rd 2007

                                      When Dory’s partner (well, the last one that is) came back from his shower into the lounge, he found little Becky playing with Dory’s computer as though it were her own.
                                      He had always found strange that his first wife’s daughter had get along so well with the temperamental archaeologist… In fact they mostly ignored each other, but they were so similar in many respect that it was like they didn’t even need to communicate, they just knew each other.

                                      Becky was only 5 (or was it 7? Dan never knew of course, which made Sabine, his first wife, constantly reproach him his lack of care) but she was brilliant. Perhaps that was the father in him talking, but he knew she would be doing great things. At such a young age, she had read The Perilous Treks of Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson (written by the Lord’s widow-then-remarried wife Floribunda von Grotto) so many times he had lost track himself (“as always,…” “now shut up Sabine, will you!”) and that was the least of her talents, he could tell.

                                      For the moment, Dan was more wondering about Dorothy. It had been nearly a month she had been away for her vacations in Madagascar. Two weeks more than she had told him… And there was this Jabin man in Tel-Aviv still trying to reach her. Well at least, he had forwarded the message to the hotel, so she would have had it.
                                      She might have delayed her return, especially if she had found some interesting archaeological stuff… well or a more handsome man… At least Dan could understand the handsome man, he laughed so loud Becky turned her head to him.

                                      — Are you alright Daddy?
                                      — Oh yes I am, treasure. What are you doing on Dory’s laptop? Not breaking anything are you?
                                      — Oh no… I’m just having fun with one of Dory’s friend…
                                      — Ahahaha, really? Dan was impressed
                                      — Yes! But I didn’t tell her that Dody Doo was not home, she’s a bit of a worry wort.
                                      — Ahahaha… Dory will come back, sooner or later, don’t worry…
                                      — Oh, but I don’t worry Daddy! I know that she’s well. Now, I’ll tell bye bye to Fionny Fea and we can play backgammon!


                                        Al was concerned about Tina. He wondered why at times it was like their moods were at the antipodes of each other. Like one was in summer when the other one was in winter. Of course, seasons had gone awfully awry in the past (well, in people’s perception at least), and cherry trees were at times blooming in the late autumn, so that was hardly a good metaphore. Enfin bref…
                                        Sometimes he wished they could move to a part of the Earth were the differences were leveled or not so dramatic, but of course, that would be focusing unduly on what seems awry, and not appreciating the differences for what they brought in understanding for each other.

                                        Like most people now, Tina and him were living in a free relationship, not bonded by written contracts, just by a mutual wish to be experiencing a common exploration. But lately, especially with the play writing, deep issues had surfaced between them, and he was no longer sure of what they were exploring, as it was like shifting sands. Of course, now, most people were shifted themselves, thanks to the new generations of children who were exceptionally gifted in accessing their own essence. But for them, in their mid-30s, there were still issues linked to their old patterns of thoughts, many deeply ingrained ways of thinking, coming from many generations before them.
                                        That T.R.A.P. attraction thing was a good example of the differences. It was mostly an attraction park for his generation, not really for children, as they were greatly able of doing these kinds of inner-travels without the aid of technology —not that they didn’t enjoy it either.

                                        Al was thinking of a gift for Tina. He wanted to show her that she had really transformed Jadra, or that they had come a long way since the wandering in the cave tunnels, or that everything started to make sense, even the invisible friend Blohmul…
                                        Well, there were still mysteries around him, (not mysteries really, but things yet at the state of seeds, or potentials) but he was no longer a hair on the soup they cooked. He was the blue fox of Mævel, and more interestingly, that cursed god was the son of Mirÿnda, the Goddess of Mirth —but that, Tina had not realized yet…

                                        Actually, now that he was looking at the entry, Al noticed that Jadra was last seen with Mirÿnda, and that struck him as something more than a coincidence…


                                        In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary


                                          October 21 st

                                          What’s the use of a new-born baby?

                                          An interesting reflection is prompted by Armelle about the need to understand things for some of our focuses.

                                          « I can do whatever I like with your Stories, give them any Meaning I want. It doesn’t matter… » (Armelle)
                                          « Of course! that is the Magic of it » (Rafaela)
                                          « And we can see them as Seeds. You don’t need to understand how Seeds work to have them grow » (Yuki)
                                          « Yes, in a wild Wilderness. A weedy, overgrown, yet mysteriously lovely Wilderness » (Armelle)
                                          « A modicum of Cooperation but largely total Freedom to make what you Want » (Rafaela)
                                          « It’s a repository of Energy Seeds » (Yuki)
                                          « A weedy, overgrown, yet mysteriously lovely Wilderness » (Armelle)
                                          « Yes, that too! Or,… an Eden Garden, with a hovering scaly stinky beast . May it be either an English, Chinese or French Garden, whatever pleases your tastes… » (Yuki)


                                            The rain was pouring cabbages :weather-showers: for several days now, almost the whole week… Baul was fed up with that filthy weather of Cromash Tur. The capital of this 4th kingdom was quite nice and pleasurable, but it lacked sun and warmth… Baul had come to Nâabooli, the capital of Cromash, in order to settle an arrangement. Something quite particular that he couldn’t find in his own land of Erpet Mesh. He’d been travelling for weeks with his guards and servants when he arrived in the city and all that for some foo’kin rain! But something more important than brooding and pouting was on his mind.

                                            Tonight he was alone, no servant, no guard… he was wearing a black coat made of goat skin on his usual blue and yellow silk robe, he couldn’t wear anything else, his skin was too smooth and delicate. He was spending great amount of money to take care of his body, it was his own pride, and he considered himself as a very handsome and appealing male.

                                            The man he was about to meet wasn’t hiding, but oddly was acting in full sight. Nonetheless, Baul didn’t want to be seen with him, Baul was an ambassador of sort from Erpet and he couldn’t be seen entering in an Assassin’s house. In Cromash, the Assassins were quite a respectable and wealthy, but in Erpet they were outlaw… one of the numerous differences between the two kingdoms, one they would never agree upon. Baul found it quite useful though; many times he’d met Ar’Am Khra, one of the best of this profession.

                                            For this meeting, as always, Baul had chosen a tavern, the Landgurdy, called after one of the former 12 kingdoms. The 4 remaining ones were at war most of the times, they couldn’t maintain peace more than a few years at best, and Baul had found many ways of benefiting of this situation. Merchant, Ambassador, and much more. He was thriving with plotting :face-angel: :face-devil-grin: and it was quite useful to be one of the ambassadors of Erpet Mesh, offering him safety wherever he was going. It was one of the few respected rules that were common between the Warring Kingdoms.

                                            The Landgurdy was quite a crowded tavern, and the owner was a friend of his, though not really officially. There was that private room on the rear of the building, know only of a few chosen “friends”, so they could enter unnoticed by the usual customers and by would be spies. The rear door was seemingly leading into another building, and some arrangements had been made over the years.

                                            Baul knocked the code at the door, and a vasistas was open quickly and closed even more quickly. The door opened then and he entered in the darkness of the house. If anyone opened the door, he or she wasn’t there anymore, but Baul knew the place quite well as it wasn’t his first meeting with the Assassin.


                                            The Assassin was waiting in the small room, square shaped with only a wood table and one chair. No window. One dim lamp.
                                            He was sitting on the lone carved chair. His clients needn’t sit.
                                            They were mere beggers.
                                            The one that was coming now, was quite amusing.
                                            The first time he met him, Baul was quite young and inexperienced in his own skills. Though he was quite ambitious, Ar’Am Khra had to admit it.
                                            The usual reaction when seeing the Assassin’s pale complexion was shivers and disgust. He was used to it and it was a game that he had enhanced with a little bluish glowing dagger tattooed on his forehead.
                                            The dagger was the mark of his profession, though not so obviously exhibited by the others. Cowards.
                                            At that first meeting, Baul didn’t react the way his other clients did. And it was not influenced by his utmost concerns at that time. Beside his inexperience he was quite engrossed in what he had called his “mission”.
                                            Ar’Am Khra did not know of any mission, there were merely contracts.
                                            And he was doing what his clients were paying for.
                                            Accomplishing his contract even after the death of his clients.

                                            He was remembering of an amusing event.
                                            A client had hired him to end the life of another man, and the second man went a few days after to his office to beg him to kill the first man.
                                            The Assassin accepted the contract.
                                            A few days later he killed the second man.
                                            He executed the first one not long after that, thus respecting the second contract. :yahoo_skull:

                                            He never questioned the motives of his clients.
                                            It was not for him to judge or to understand. Though most of the time he did understand quite well.
                                            His main motivation was the payment and his own pride in expressing his skill with subtleties and newness.

                                            The door opened smoothly. Baul entered the room.



                                            Yann and Quintin had an interesting chat during the afternoon. Yann had some new impressions about the map of Lord Wrick annotated by Quintin. Something about the Warring Kingdoms, triggered by a dream of an Assassin in one of them. It was frustrating not to be in the same room so Yann could show Quintin directly on the map, but with Internet there were some other options.

                                            The names of these lands were Ata’Meliu, Dam Adbor, Erpet Mesh and Cromash Tur. These 4 Kingdoms were rather scattered on the Lan’Ork part of the continent, pieces and bits everywhere, though Ata’Meliu was more in the center and the South of the Lan’Ork, Dam Adbor in the East and in the North, and Cromash Tur in the West and South West parts, Erpet was divided in 2 main areas, one located on the Northern land just before the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer, and a smaller one lost in the middle of Ata’Meliu.

                                            Yann only had the impression of 2 of the capitals, Naat Medin was the one of Erpet Mesh and Nâabooli of Cromash Tur.

                                            Quintin just sent him the map so he could draw some more comments and sketch the boundaries of the Warring Kingdoms. He didn’t know why, but he felt some movements were about to begin, some reconfigurations of the borders :world:

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