As Above So Below Read online

  Make this worthy sacrifice. Then you will be king among kings, with the very heavens as your crown. Forever.

  “Who are you?”

  I am the weaver of dreams.

  CHAPTER 13

  ~

  MAIA KEPT ON CLICKING her mouse and rolling her scroll wheel. She found herself at different vantage points. For some unknown reason, her cursor floated upward. It went higher, closer to the trellis. Or the ceiling or whatever that thing is. It then stopped moving.

  “Maia, something has changed…”

  “You’re right. Where am I?”

  “It looks like you are in the same place…but not.”

  “This looks...eerie. Let’s see… The latitude and the longitude look like it’s the same. The elevation is different, though. It changed. If this is right, and I don’t know how this could be right – we are at ground level…”

  “…Ground level and no water…?”

  “Oh my goodness! That’s what’s different. There is no water! It’s gone!”

  An ethereal light illuminated the images on the screen – the hall (Elle and Maia took to calling the wall structure the “hall”), the mountains in the distance, and the ocean floor.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Where are we?”

  “Are we still on earth?”

  “I think we are. Just the twilight version, though. But same underwater image. But no water. And we could see farther. Everything is illuminated.”

  Maia looked at the scene from all angles. She turned to her right and to her left and found that columns formed a brace to the wall, supporting it. It had the same blue color. Blue on blue on blue.

  Maia moved her cursor again and they saw the “floor”.

  “Maia, can you please stop moving?” Elle could barely speak. Purple, purple, purple.

  “There are no floors…”

  On what used to be the floor, they could see stars and galaxies. Maia moved the cursor and the floor turned to brown. She moved it back and she could see stars and galaxies again.

  Stars and galaxies. Here?

  “Do you think those are really stars, Elle?”

  “I’m looking…” I don’t want to look.

  Below, on what used to be all blue, gleamed the night sky. It had numerous stars and dust clouds that formed a galaxy.

  The Milky Way?

  “Maia, I don’t want to look anymore. Let’s stop.”

  Maia felt Elle’s agitation from behind her.

  “Elle, we can’t stop now. We have to figure this out.” Maia once again moved her cursor, trying to make sense of the images before her.

  “What is the night sky doing here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Look, Elle. Is that what I think it is? Is that the Big Dipper on the lower right?” Maia pointed to a formation of stars that looked like a kite.

  “No, I think it is Orion’s Belt.” Elle felt a sense of foreboding.

  “Wow! Amazing! But what is this we’re seeing?”

  “It’s... breathtaking…” Elle murmured.

  “I agree… Let’s try something else…” Maia zoomed out and zoomed in again on a different part of the ocean. “Let’s check if we’ll see something different.” She went back to the water and straddled the Blue Line. She zoomed in when she saw a patch of blue-black darkness. She sensed those patches must hide something, given its elaborate color.

  “Let’s see what this shows us…”

  Again, they saw the walls, the blue of the sea, and lattices on the ceiling. Maia rolled the scroll wheel of her mouse and found herself at the “twilight version”. Again, the water disappeared. Yet, the “night sky” looked different.

  “Oh! Where are we?”

  “In the lower middle…there… I think that’s still Orion’s belt…”

  A star cluster glowed, visible and distinct, on the right side of the night sky. Maia counted seven stars.

  “Elle, do you know if there is a cluster of seven stars?”

  Not waiting for Elle to answer, she typed in, “Cluster Seven Stars” on her Google search bar.

  She found they were called the Pleiades.

  The Seven Sisters.

  VeilOverAtlantis.com

  The stars are immutable, unmoving

  Moored in their final resting place

  But they are alive, lit from within

  Holding a million other mysteries

  I have touched the surface of the moon

  Tethered to a looking glass

  Its valleys and fault lines are real

  Its pockmarks scarring its perfect sphere

  I looked at its dark side and saw nothing

  But I sense that something is there

  Something hidden and veiled

  Something I am not meant to see

  Because we are all initiates

  Those who ‘need not know’

  And yet they call to us

  Oddly, then more than now

  Then, when lights were faded

  And dreams were conceived during star-lit nights

  When man did nothing

  But to contemplate his nothingness

  In the face of an enormous void

  Now, we distract ourselves

  With our pursuits and our baubles of dreams

  Dreams that visit us

  Dreams that forget us

  Until we tire of our toil

  And are called to rest

  Until the next day comes

  And we are forgiven

  The ambrosia touches our lips

  And life claims us as its captive once again

  But the moon and the stars stand transfixed

  Sometimes unseen

  Weaving their powerful magic

  With their alliterations, alterations

  Reminiscences, remembrances

  Beckoning to us –

  Look back, look deeply

  Look.

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  Seven suspended granite boulders cradled each of the sisters. The vestiges of sleep left them. First to open her eyes, Maia stood upright, entranced by the sight before her. She felt her sisters stirring. All stared at the vision before them.

  “Where are we?”

  They found themselves inside a cave or a dome – they were not sure. Everything glowed in the semi-darkness. The strongest light came from several moons and faint but countless stars. Before them, carved into the wall, stood the outline of seven doors.

  They heard a voice behind them.

  “Pleiades...” the voice, made up of many voices, lilted, caressed, and sowed in them both fear and peace. It sounded unlike any voice they have heard.

  They all turned to look and they saw – in the middle – a towering tree laden with different fruits. Most of the fruits, they had never seen before. The tree, its roots gnarled and sinewy, emitted a silver glow.

  It was a sight to behold.

  “Who are you? Where are you?” Maia said.

  “Show yourself!” cried Alcyone.

  “We are everyone and no one... We are the moon, the stars, the universes, the very space you breathe... We are the One, We are Who-that-Knows, We are whom you call the Ancients... We made you, We made everything... We are the tree you see, known to you as the Tree of Knowledge...”

  “Sisters, why are we here? This may be a trap,” whispered Taygete.

  “Sisters... Seven Sisters of the Earthly Realm... Daughters of the Titan Atlas and the Oceanid Pleione. We have brought you before the Tree, but we mean you no harm...

  “You are here because you have been found to be worthy… You have been taught and we will see how well... And so it is... So it is... You have penetrated the veil and have come to the center of the universe where the Tree is hidden... It is yours – its vast knowledge is yours – if it is your wish... if you partake of its fruit...

  “Come...”

  Merope took a step towards the tree.
/>   “Ahhhh... yes... It has been sought by all... Do not deny that you – the Sisters on whom the fate of the whole universe lies – are not entranced by the thought of becoming like Us...”

  Thoughts of a future ruled by them seduced the Seven Sisters.

  Before Merope could take another step, Electra stopped her.

  “Death and sin are the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge…” whispered Alcyone.

  “You mean us no harm... But those who partake of the fruit will know everything – and die...” cried Maia.

  “So it shall not be... If you remain true, there shall be no death... What is forbidden will remain hidden...”

  “Riddles,” shouted Asterope.

  “Lies,” cried Celaeno.

  “What if they are telling the truth…? They are the Ancients…” cried Merope.

  Maia looked at her sisters and at Alcyone, who nodded her head.

  “How will this come to pass?” asked Maia.

  “Seven tasks for Seven Sisters... A quest to test what you have become and to find out if the faith in you is well-placed. Behind you are seven doors. At its end is the reason You Are...”

  As if led by an invisible hand, the Sisters turned to look at the seven caves with the seven doors. Slowly and with laden feet, each reached out to a door, ready to turn the ancient key that guards its secrets.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  P. Milisande lives in British Columbia, Canada with her artist husband and artist children. She is a legal professional and former editor-in-chief of a news publication. She collects dusty books and antique teacups. This is her first novel.