#hekate008

—- Join us. —-

It is a whisper, brushed soft against your cheek. It would have woken you, had you slept at all. The same entreatment. Never a demand, never a plea. An invitation. A gesture. A beckoning hand.

You rise in the shadow of the monolith. You, and only you, recognize It for what it truly is. It is that whisper against your skin. It is the thousands of hands resting on your shoulders. It is your Witness. In your mind, the monolith gestures with a many armed sweep of an elegant hand. It does not force an image into your mind, nor does it whisper. It invites you to shape your thoughts.

You are at a crossroads, and you must, at last, choose your path.

You stand at the junction of your future. Air, earth, and water spread in three tendrils from your apex.

You follow the eastern path. The path of air. 

You conjure Luna. Not the Luna scarred by humanity’s expeditions, nor that marred by Crota. It is a moon restored.

You stand barefaced in the faint light of the sun. You can breathe here, as no one can. This is your domain. You are the maiden of this celestial body. In your hand is an orb of night, and with a gesture, you pull the Earth into your orbit. Venus follows, and Mercury in its wake. At last, you look upon the very star at the center of Sol. Its Light does not blind you, and it cowers in the cleansing shadow you cast over the galaxy.

—- This is what we gift to you. Control. Over others. Over yourself. Over the beauty of finality. Gods have made playthings of the universe. With us, you would wrest control from their fetid hands and restore order to an unordered world. To cleanse their stain. We ask only that you join us. —-

You return to your crossroads. The path of air remains to the east. You look to the north, and follow the path of earth.

You conjure home. Not the scorched earth left from the rise and fall of myriad regimes. No, this is a beautiful earth, and amongst its flowers and trees, you are not alone.

Your ancient fortress rises to meet you. It is as you left it: home. You are welcomed within its cavernous walls by all that you have loved. Lords Felwinter and Saladin incline their heads over their books. Your cadre of Techuens from a long-forgotten life nod at you from their place around a restorative fire. You see a smile in Eris Morn’s restored eyes, a laugh from a carefree Empress Caiatl, a wink from the radiance of Katabasis. You see Doug and Elisabeth Bray, whole, human. And at last, the Emperor Calus takes your hand and pulls you into a warm embrace. He whispers a name against your cheek, and it is yours.

This place is yours. Here, in this most perfect of underworlds, you are loved.

—- This is what we gift to you. Peace. Never again will you wander your halls alone, for we are in your shadow. Never again will your fingers blacken with frost, for ours will warm you. Never again will you be abandoned, for we were, we are, and we always will be with you. You will wipe the tears from a trillion eyes. You will stifle grief, end suffering, and reunite all within the final shape. An eternal, perfect moment. We ask only that you join us. —-

You return to your crossroads. The paths of air and earth remain,. You look to the west, and follow the path of water. 

You conjure the Ascendant Plane.

You walk in obsidian and starlight. Beneath you is a limitless expanse of space, but you do not fall. The infinitude of the universe uplifts your bare feet as you venture deeper into the heart of this world. You have been here so many times, but always in another’s shadow, in another’s world.

But you see the truth in this path. This is not a Throne World. This is the realm not of a queen, a guide, or a god. This is the realm of a Disciple. Your realm.

—- This is what we gift to you. Power. Not so paltry as that of Kings, Emperors, or your Traveler. The power to Take, the power to shape. Unhindered, absolute power. We do not offer this lightly. Lessor beings than you have fallen prey to their perceived notions of greatness. We do not seek to raise a despot. We seek to unite our benevolent hands with yours. So that you may guide, as you have been guided so often before. To usher the universe away from chaos. We ask only that you join us. —-

The starlight falls upon a veiled statue in the center of your realm. At its feet are calcified supplicants. Though they kneel and hold their worshipful eyes downcast, their arms are raised in exhortation. But this time, there is not one voice, but three - a harmony of whispers that condemn and cajole and cry. 

The threadbare veil falls away. It is you. Formidable you. Your cloak is saffron. Your spear a torch. Your crown a serpent twining through branches of oak, yew, and cypress. On your left is a war beast, and your right, a wolf. You have not two arms, but six. You have not one head, but three. Mother, maiden, crone. You are One.

—- Your shape, perfected. —- 

You reach for your own hands. You are, at last, the arbiter of your own will.

You return to your crossroads, and a final path has formed. The path south. The path of fire. 

It is not your Traveler’s solar, but a raging, encompassing wildfire. It is a thing of raw, destructive power, but its terrible force breeds new life, new growth. Life and death. Agony and ecstasy. Chaos.

You follow the path, your hand outstretched to the fire. The flames do not scorch you. As you spread your delicate fingers, the burning redwoods turn to inflammable towers of stone. The fleeing mammals are wrapped in a cocoon of eternal safety. The wildflowers keep their radiant petals, the homes of thatch and straw weather the onslaught. The fire dies, and its embers do not reignite.

You have tempered chaos. You have shaped the rampage into a perfect stillness. You have saved the people of Sol.

—- This is what we gift to you. Purpose. The Gardener raised you to be her army. We would uplift you to be your own. To forego the endless struggle to preserve that which cannot preserve itself. To be the savior, the salvation, that the people of Sol cry out for. We ask only that you join us. —-

You conjure the monolith. Others may see a tempest but you, formidable you, see the heart burning at the center of Light and Darkness. That which governs all things. Your perfect, immutable Witness.

—- Relinquish your fears. Conquer your doubts. Embrace your potential, and rise from the Deep. Be a Guardian. Not of your Traveler, but of the universe. —-

It begins and ends with the same entreatment, the same invitation. As you approach the monolith, It beckons to you one last time.