Copyright © 2010 by William R. Mistele. All rights reserved.
The Feminine Mysteries
In a Villa on the Outskirts of the City, 14,000 BC
“Kamual,” says the man sitting at the desk by the window as he lifts his eyes with a quiet stare.
“Naniroa,” Kamual replies, entering and closing the door behind him.
“How may I please the Council?” Naniroa asks, standing up.
“Sit down. No formalities. My visit today is a friendly gesture.”
Kamual sits in a chair next to the window looking out on the capital of Atlantis. An occasional gust rattles the window. He reflects, “Today the sky is clear. Clouds or sun—neither seems to affect the winds.
“Weather has been bad,” echoes Naniroa.
Kamual goes on, “Yes, another month of fifty mile an hour winds. It does keep rioters off the streets. If it goes on like this we’ll have to start growing food underground.”
The two men gaze for a few moments into each other’s eyes. Kamual is in his eighties though he looks as if he is forty-five. His eyes memorize everything he sees—a loose thread on your sleeve, the way a small muscle tightens on the lower left side of your chin as you think or the slight change in the dilation of your eyes, small shifts in your breathing patterns, or the intonation as you speak now as compared to when you spoke to him five years ago.
“Your want to know about ….?” asks Nariora.
“Your interest in women,” Kamual replies appearing uninterested, as if chairing a tedious committee meeting going into overtime.
“My discretion is impeccable. The Council knows this. What I do is solely a private and personal pursuit,” Nariora says, trying to conceal his surprise.
“The same could have been said about Tagora—he was discreet and absolutely reliable. And after thirty years we are still rebuilding the part of the city destroyed by his experiments that combined lasers, sound waves, and crystal balls.”
“Yes, some areas of science are best left unexplored,” Nariora concedes.
Nariora proceeds cautiously. Kamual, when necessary, can produce in his own brain the brain waves of another person. This allows Kamual to think the exact thoughts and mimic the precise words of another person even without having any experience with the person. Kamual, like all High Priests of Atlantis, has unique magical gifts at his disposal.
“Let me see if I have it right,” Kamual replies as he clasps his hands together and places them under his chin.
“You have this gift of sensing and then being able to reproduce the vibrations of a woman’s aura. So you take a receptive woman. You use meditation. And then you teach her to embody within herself the exact energy field of an undine queen.”
Kamual pauses watching Nariora’s face to confirm that every detail is accurate.
Kamual goes on, “So that is your experiment—you want to see if it can be done; I am a curious myself. I would like to see if it can be done. Hell, the entire High Council would like to see if it can be done.
“But this could be worse than destroying part of a city. This is like rewriting DNA. You are opening the gate to the Next World. Would it not be nice if you ….
“If I first sought the approval of the High Council?”
“I am not opening a gate. What I do only involves two or three women. There is no invasion of our world. It is just that they are ….”
Kamual interrupting, “They are what? More feminine than our women? More loving? And in terms of love, no doubt, you have concluded they are more human than we are.
“You may not realize this, but I have heard it all before. We have this debate in the High Council every five or ten years. There is always some mage-scientist who wishes to reveal to mankind some wonderful spiritual treasure he has discovered.
“We honestly and patiently hear him out. We consider the pros and cons. We debate risks and benefits, values and unforeseen side effects. We affirm our desire to seize new opportunities that the divine sets before us. And then we turn him down. Do you to know why we turn them down?”
“This is why: people do not know it but our civilization is always on the brink of destruction. No society can hold within its hands the powers over nature we command without a profound respect for human limitations. Given the risks we have taken for the sake of knowledge, it is amazing that we still exist.”
Gesturing toward the window. “We could change these winds. Make them go away, postpone the onset of an ice age for a thousand years. We have debated it. But that would be placing our wisdom up against the wisdom of a biosphere that has existed for billions of years.
“We think the earth knows better than us about when to alter its climate. There will be no discussion of your undine women in the council. Your experiments end now.
“If you want to do something worthwhile, help us upgrade the Fire Crystals. We will need more energy to cope with the weather.”
Nariora responds as if calling check on his opponent’s king in a game of chess, “But there is an issue here the High Council must be made aware of”
Kamual, “Go ahead. Illuminate me.”
Nariora: “It is in regard to the magical equilibrium.”
Kamual, “Yes, we all have this training.”
Nariora: “My research with the undine queens indicates our species is weak in its understanding of water as compared to earth, air, and fire.”
Kamual learning forward to stretch his back, “You know, some would say you have fallen under the sway of these undine queens.”
Nariora: “I’ll be brief. You know about elemental imbalances. What happens if someone is strong in will, intellect, and consciousness but weak in love?”
Kamual pressing his lips together in a pout, “This is a beginner’s question.”
He goes on, “If the element of water is weak in an individual’s astral body, the individual will inevitably end up manipulating other people, knowing them only by observing their actions and words and not though sensing them directly from within. Unable to feel an inner connection, he would manipulate others rather than inspire and persuade them.
“He would take excessive risks ignoring threats to his safety because there is no contentment, no inner peace, no desire for harmony. And he would lack the ability to dare—he would be unable to dream or imagine himself as a new creation. He would be unable to change his own nature. What have I left out?
Nariora: “In a worst case, he loses his survival instinct, throwing himself head long into some activity that destroys him. He becomes obsessed and self-possessed until his own conscience no longer sends him warnings.”
Kamual, “Every neophyte knows this. As much as I love theology, what is your point?”
Nariora: “The undine queens consider that humanity is totally out of touch with their realm. Because of this elemental imbalance, they tell me that our destruction is inevitable ….another race is already been designated to replace us, one more suited to live in harmony with the elements of nature on this planet.”
Stifling a yawn, “Sorry, I didn’t get any sleep last night. The Guard was on alert and there have been some strange incidents that it is best not to mention lest the public catch the rumor and panic.”
Standing, “Elason is outside the door waiting. I know you like her. In all honesty, I brought her along to sooth any frayed nerves. Matters of this import must always be fully acknowledged for their complexity and for their passion. I’ll take my leave.”
Going to the door and speaking softly, “Elason, go on in now, please.”
Elason smiles at Kamual as their paths cross.
Nariora walks to her, taking her hands in his, “Another high council member in one day. I am honored.”
They take the same seats. Lowing her head slightly as she gazes into his eyes and speaking almost in a whisper, “You must understand. These are difficult times. If things were more peaceful, you could just go out in the country somewhere and do whatever you wish to do with the fairies—the sylphs, gnomes, salamanders, undines—no one really cares about such things. What people do not see does not worry them when it comes to the Blessed realms.
“But I am not the only one on the Council who senses your work. We have all been on alert searching with our minds for threats and plots.
Nariora: “And my work falls under threats and plots?”
Elason: “Actually, the light I sense around you is terribly refreshing. I don’t think men can comprehend it.
“But you are here to insure that the Council’s edict is followed?” Nariora asks perplexed.
Elason rises half an inch as she straightens her back and lifts her chin, “Just answer one question. Is what I sense true: that women under the influence of the undine queens grow more beautiful as they grow older?”
Nariora, pausing a moment to reflect, “That is one effect. It is in the aura. As a woman’s natural magnetism grows stronger, her beauty is amplified and her health remarkable increased.”
Elason lowing her voice as she goes on, “Then I have a second question. Can a woman master this magnetism of the undine queens and at the same time conceal this power from others?”
Nariora: “Such as other Council members?”
Nariora: “Yes, simply focus on will and you get more fire or on ideas and you get more air. Magnetism is like weather—if there are no clouds in the sky, the magnetism is still in the ground …. you just don’t get the sky lighting up with lightning so no one senses its presence.”
Elason: “Then this is what I want from you. Stop your experiments for a year, maybe two. Then begin again but only with women who are initiates of the Mysteries.
Nariora responds with a look of shock.
Raising her hand, “I know of such women who possess the receptivity you require and who can be trusted. The men on the Council do know of our mysteries.
“But you can pull this off. I am sure that Kamual failed to ask you the right questions.
Nariora with a questioning look, “And that would be?”
Elason: “Are there now undines in the form of women in Atlantis?
“There are two.”
“And you know them and they trust you?”
Elason: “Then in a year we will apprentice women to these undines. If our women live with these undine woman and learn from them…. How many years will it take?”
Nariora: “If I teach your initiates my methods, they will embody an undine’s aura in three to five years.
Elason firmly, “I want this done. I’ll tell the Council I am keeping a close eye on you. Blend in. Upgrade the Fire Crystals. Participate in state projects. No one will worry about you. It was an accident that Kamual noticed your activities. Can I trust you on this?”
Nariora, “I will follow your lead in every way.”
Elason, “One last thing. Can you tell me briefly about the undine queens?”
Nariora replies, “I have spoken with eight. They each embody different qualities of the magnetic fluid. One is a master of love beyond human knowing. Another is inner peace with the universe. A third is the healing power in nature. A forth is joyful celebration. The fifth is aware of the entire magnetic field of the earth.
“The sixth has the prophetic gift of seeing the past, present, and future, though they all have that gift so some extent. The seventh awakens your own and others’ memories as if you are experiencing them for the first time. And the eight is a master, not of the ecstasy of love, but of tenderness and affection that bonds partners for a life time and more.
Elason: “I wish to meet and speak with the mistress of love. What is her name? Can it be spoken aloud?”
Nariora: “Istiphul.” As the name is spoken, the room briefly grows cold as if snow has begun to fall through the air or as if there were frost on the windows and icicles on the walls.
Elason with a penetrating stare, “If it is not too much to ask, will you arrange for the queen and me to spend some time together?”
Nariora: “To whatever extent you desire. She will answer all your questions.”
After a pause, Nariora asks, “How will it work?”
Elason, “This Order you and I shall create?”
Elason: “It shall be passed down in secret from mother to daughter or, if need be, from grandmother to granddaughter. I think three pairs of mothers and daughters should suffice. We shall have a spiritual archive, but it will be hidden from the world; the only access through telepathy, just as are your undine queens.
Nariora: “And then?”
Elason: “When the world is more receptive to the Feminine Mysteries, any woman who desires shall be able to find us by searching her heart. We will visit her in her dreams or arrange a meeting according to her needs.”
Before she departs, Elason gives Nariora a hug, squeezing the air out of his lungs, and then releasing him with a kiss to his cheek.
Three Thousand Years Later in the Great Library
The Great Library is underground. Each floor archives the knowledge of several thousand years of Atlantean history. There are five official floors. The first two are open to the public. The other three require permission to enter. Only a few library personnel may access them.
Each level also has restricted areas. There are secret archives whose existence is only known to a few. And behind walls and secret doors, there are sealed archives lost and forgotten.
Sa, one of two female members of the High Council, sits at in a lounge reading on the third level. Looking at her face is like watching the sun rise, its rays filtering into a grove while the full moon sinks beneath the opposite horizon. Her beauty is dazzling and yet also soft and inviting; it surges in strength while in the same moment it is yielding—she could easily be the most beautiful woman in Atlantis if she did not go out of her way to disguise her psychic and physical charms.
Sa senses Radea entering the room. Though the floors and wood paneled walls are spotless, even marble decays, its dust in the air after six thousand years.
In spite of this distraction, Sa catches Radea’s scent when he is thirty feet away—it reminds her of a moist field of wheat two weeks after harvest, with dirt, puddles, and organic matter composting. And it is the scent of a wolverine marking his territory; even the nostrils of a bear would flair with a warning of danger.
Even demons honor this man. He has a gift of power. Somewhat jaded, at times boyish, his enemies appreciate his straightforward honesty.
Sa knows otherwise. Radea’s father was executed as a political pawn after the brief theft of the Mentarch, the most sacred artifact in Atlantis. The father covered for his son’s involvement.
With that death, Radea assumed the hereditary title as Curator of the Great Library. He also became the second in command of the Dark Order, a magical society forbidden during its entire history.
Radea sits down next to Sa.
Radea speaks with the voice of an old friend who always secretly wished to be her lover—tender yet holding back, “It is said that these halls are haunted by lost souls. But today, with you having been here, any ghost that enters this place will find its way home. How may I assist you?”
Sa: “You have closed your mind to the dreams I send. I worry about you.”
Radea replies with his boyish smile, “No need to worry. I am fine. I have never been stronger or clearer in my purposes.”
A thought flashes through Radea’s mind--looking into her eyes is like gazing at a magic mirror. You never know what thing from the near, far past, or distant future will gaze back at you.
Sa smiles as she catches the thought.
Radea, “I would be a fool if I did not ask, What is it that you people do in this secret Order of yours? We have no records, no trace, no evidence, no investigations—am I the only one in the history of our civilization who knows that your Order exists?”
She holds his gaze silently.
Radea goes on, “I mean, look, your involvement in my life is no accident.”
She makes a face as if to remind him that women have their own ways and necessary secrets.
Radea, “It is not as if I can’t figure it out for myself. I know enough about secret Orders. There is nothing I can not imagine.”
Sa says, “Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”
Radea responds, “The first time I met you, you were literally wearing wings, virtually nude ….you saved my life, and then you put me though hell, well, it was a horrific experience with mobs of women chasing me on the Day of Rituals.
“And the words you said the next time we met, ‘I can give you whatever you ask as long as you open your heart to my light.’”
Sa says, “And how does that add up?”
Radea: “You combine love and lust. You push trust to its limits. And you have some secret knowledge or a gift the human race does not yet possess? You take the molten hot cauldron of desire in men and you toss into it a piece of the Philosopher’s stone wrapped in wax and the lead turns into gold--
“You take the seed not of the man’s body but the vision or dream within his heart and you cloak it with your beauty until it is reborn as spirit.
“Am I missing anything?”
Sa: “You have not addressed why we do this.”
Radea says with confidence, “I think we share in common the same desire: to transform the world. You are doing it from the side of love. I am doing it from the side of power.”
Sa responds, “And so the question, Is power the servant of love or must love submit to power to fulfill its purposes? That is how you see it, isn’t it?”
Radea relies, “Very perceptive. I wish that love was the underlying purpose of life. I really do.
“He’ad’ra and I have the same problem: at the core of my being is an emptiness that nothing can penetrate. Until love invades that desolation, I am stuck with the pursuit of power.
“Would you like to invade my desolation? I am available anytime. Maybe tonight?”
Sa ignoring his rudeness, “The difference between you and He’ad’ra is that he has a sense of wonder. He is in awe of the beauty of the universe. He is willing to become nothing to reflect that beauty inside of him.
“But you are clingy. No wonder, no awe. For you, beauty is best when it is possessed. You are like a star when it has burned up its light of inspiration so all that is left is for it to implode upon itself. Your purposes are the purposes of destruction.
“He’ad’ra has gone through the darkness inside of him. For all your freedom from fear, you are still terrified to pass though the part of your self that is unknown and uncharted.”
Radea: “Tell me, what is hidden in the darkness?”
Sa: “My love.”
Radea: “I am the heir to twenty thousand years of secret research into the Mysteries. Sweet child of the Pleiades, I believe you.
“Find me again in another life time when I am more receptive to beauty and love and do not carry the fate of Atlantis on my shoulders.”