ONCE AN EPIPHANY…

(So the story goes)

A single word can change everything. It has the power to bring movement to a halt - stop. It has the power to set things in motion - go. A single word can determine the future - charge. Or it can disrupt a process - fervent. Can it shift a paradigm? This is what Cain wondered as he mused on the word. Cain, being a God, understood power by nature, and even more than anyone, the power a single word held at the right time, in the right way. As he sat across from Blaze now, he could see the storm clouds brewing behind the eyes of the God of Glory, and decided now would be a good time to measure his words carefully. If Cain were First Co-Chair of Counsel, he would have let the discussion play out to its conclusion, and issued and edict, and subsequently, a motion, that he knew would have been seconded and voted on favoring him. But he was not First Co-Chair and this was not the first time he had to remind himself of this, He remained present while he mused - so far.

“The word seemed to carry a lot of weight with her when she spoke. She spoke the word fervently to convey the fervor she explicitly wanted to point out. I believe that was not a conscious act on her part, but neither was it an accident. Rhe is intuitive. More so than she knows.” He took a sip of wine from his favorite chalice. He swirled the remainder in the bottom to aerate it and watched a bubble pop and spread crimson foam. The pebble in the pond and the concentric rings resulting came to mind. If “fervent” were a pebble, what would be the resulting rings?

“But is the type of fervor that she speaks of reasonable in any manner?” Blaze asked in earnest. “You understand my concern, do you not?”

Cain lifted his eyes and looked directly at the Lord he had sided by his entire existence.

“Yes.” Cain lifted his eyes towards the ceiling. He knew this was going to take some time and his plans for himself for the evening would, likewise, now be disrupted. A small seed of resentment irritated his otherwise calm demeanor. He squashed it mentally, satisfyingly and completely. This was not the time for petty contentions.

Rivalry. Another single word with extraordinary power among and over Gods. “Shut that shit down right now.” He thought.

“So?” Blazed pushed on. He was growing irritated and he knew it. “Goddamn it.” He thought to himself.

“I apologize to you Cain. I do not mean to press. Perhaps this is not the time. I can prolong my audience with Apollo further if needed. We may need to deliberate…” His voice carried off as he saw the change that took place before his eyes. He had seen it many times before, but every time, it amazed him.

As Cain, he could take the word in stride. As Khain, it enveloped him. He became one with the word. Not in definition. In the context of how it was uttered. Much to his despair, he could find no reason for it. This “fervent” defied reason. He better understood the concern. He followed the word where it led him. Then, suddenly, he stopped short with a jolt and came back to his senses. “Jarring” was the word that came to mind in this instant. He swallowed the rest of his drink and topped it off at the same time. Cain visibly shuddered.

Blaze looked on with concern at what had just transpired in front of him. The manifestation, incomplete, had been quickened and concluded in record time. An uneasy feeling stirred in the pit of his being. Blaze was not familiar with fear up till now. The air between them prickled with the uncertainty. Something was afoot. He had known it the moment he had heard it. Neither knew who should speak first now.

Cain finally broke the silence. “Brink.” He said.

Blaze stayed quiet. “Let him continue,” he told himself. “Don’t push.”

Cain set his goblet down and looked the storm clouds in the eye.

“It took me to the brink of madness. I had to stop myself. This fervor of which she speaks sits on the brink of madness. One more step, and there is naught but descent.”

This was uncalled for.

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Santos stared blankly at the screen in front of him while his sister droned on behind him about all the updates she had implemented in “his absence”. She had sounded a little too condescending when she said it, and now she sounded a little too pleased with herself as she brought him up to speed. He stood silently and nodded. Did she think he fell into complete stupidity while he had been locked up? He would have it down pat in no time. Technology was like second nature to him, but AI was new. That whole thing had really taken off while he was on the inside. Still wasn’t rocket science and he knew it was only as smart as the person using it. He wondered, absent-mindedly, when the word “artificial” had become a good thing and if that was the best choice of word for the revolution it was meant to be.

“So, does that make sense?” Cadie asked him, satisfied she had done her part to help ease him back into the family business.

Everyone had been really supportive of him returning to work and were eager to have him back and remind him how lucky he was to still have a job and a roof over his head upon release. Thanks, praise Jesus, to his family. Thanks to them standing by him and believing him and in him etc. etc. Given that he was still under probation for the next three years, and required to report weekly, and his freedom rested on him meeting expectations, he kept his mouth shut about it and complied. He secretly welcomed the elephant in the room that kept everyone quiet about the actual circumstances of his absence. He didn’t want to talk about it anyways.

Cadie had gotten married to Yusef while he had been incarcerated. There had been some talk of waiting until he got out so he could be there, but he had, of course, encouraged her to go ahead with it, not wanting the government to hold up her happiness because they felt the need to punish him more than life had. Not that he put it that way. He kept those feelings to himself. He did everything he could to appear to be taking accountability while maintaining his innocence with the help of his lawyers. He had been keeping his head down and walking a fine line for what seemed like forever already.

She, of course, went ahead with the wedding and everything else. While he had not fared too badly on the inside due to his innate charm and ability to read the room, there were incidents and scars. While she got married and popped out two babies already, he practiced out of body experiences and worked in the prison kitchen where his culinary talents won him favor and, eventually, protection. A lot had changed on the outside while he was inside. More had changed on the inside of him while outside, he still looked more the same than different. Older, with shorter hair and a touch of gray coming in, which he hated, but not as worse for wear as they were expecting. He savored that while he looked at the new menu on the screen. There was nothing there he could not cook in his sleep. Nothing about the new system his brother-in-law had recommended he could not manage. Santos had practically been born able to code. He’d show them what this bitch could do once he took back the reins. Oh ya. The old Santos was back. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he nodded in her direction one last time to recognize her authority, at the moment.

“Makes sense to me. I think I’ve got it. Nice work Cadie. You did a great job keeping this place going while I was away.” He told her.

She smiled, and accepted the compliment because she was always hungry for them.

So there he was. Back working at the restaurant. Back living at home. At least with Cadence married it was just him and his parents, except when her kids were there. His mom had taken a back seat from Costella’s finally and helped Cadie and Yus with the kids while they worked. It was far from ideal but it would have to do (in the meantime).

Santos turned to the grill, which he knew immediately, needed to be cleaned. Fuck the system. Clearly, people were slacking off while he was gone.

“Nobody cleaning the cooktop these days?” He asked casually, picking up the scraper and providing evidence to support his statement. He had to assert his rightful place here again as soon as possible. Inside thinking. Inside taught him much.

“It’s on the closing task list and checked off as done.” She offered in defense, weakly.

He shrugged. “Well, maybe this is their idea of that, but no more. If this is what passes for clean somebody will need a refresher course. Who closed?”

“Devon.” She promptly answered. “He’s new here since you…”

Santos took advantage of her trailing off to add a touch of charm.

“Well, I’ll talk to him and go over everything with him to make sure he does it by the book you went to all the trouble of setting up for them so they don’t even have to think about it. You’ve done so much already. They should appreciate it more.” He flashed her a quick smile. That was all she needed. Just a nudge in the right direction.

A tear started in the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad you’re home Santos.” She said, barely above a whisper. She almost leaned in for a hug, but he turned back to the grill.

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“Me too Cadie.” He said. “You have no idea how glad I am to be home.”

He half meant it and deliberately did not oversell it.

“Home sweet home,” she said as she headed back into the front of house.

Santos wanted to throw up. He knew no place was ever going to be home again without her. If one more person reminded him how lucky he was. If one more person said “accidents happen”. If one more person told him it was time for him to “get back on the horse…”

He purposely did not finish the thought. He finished cleaning instead.

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You know what is another great word, in my opinion? Quiddity. Especially if you like onomatopoeia. Quiddity sounds like what it is. Something special. I know it is a word that is highly underutilized. As a scribe, you sometimes labor over a single word to get your point across and not sound redundant. You will check your Thesaurus or try different versions or ways of saying the same thing. It's a constant struggle to balance the rhetoric with the verbiage. There are very few words that stand out all on their own for what they say and what they are. And while you wrestle with the limitations of the language available to tell the story of All time, some newbie can come along and spout something off the top of their head that sends everyone into a tailspin. Not that I am jealous or resentful. Even I have to admit, fervent got me going.

But for the sake of equal time, if nothing else, let’s talk about Quiddity. That one thing that makes you - uniquely you. The reason it is so important is because Quiddity is your drop of Essence. Everyone from Earth to High Heaven has one drop of Essence within them. An overwhelming majority of people go through life without ever knowing their Quiddity. That is to be expected. But it only takes one with one to change everything - All in All. Your Quiddity is your truth. Yours and yours alone that no one else has.

So imagine trying to drill down on the one thing that makes you - you. Singularly and Singularity you. The one thing about you that has nothing to do with anyone else. The one thing about you that nobody else has to their name. That is the needle in the haystack that Uriel will be judging you on. Well, maybe not you. But someone. If you are right, you win the Right. If you are wrong, you cease to exist. I can believe that so many people go through life never even hearing the word Quiddity, much less considering it. Not because it is underrated or underused. Because it is only really necessary at one point in time for one reason by one person. That is the power of a single word.

The reason I bring this up now is because I am probably not going to waste a lot of time on revelations about who is or who is not the real deal and what they are up to in the MeanTime. I may only make mere mention of those others who are in Charge Over All. I might throw a line in here or there about so and so, but otherwise, not. If I feel the need to fill in some blanks, I will likely be expedient about it, because there are only so many words to cover the story of Time Immemorial. And at the risk of sounding repetitive, after fervent, and Quiddity, almost everything else at this time is filler. Between fervent and Quiddity, any story can be told. This is just my version of it.

Will I continue to struggle to find the words? Probably. Will I spend more time than necessary on them? Probably not. I still want it to be a good story though, so I will continue to do my best to tell it to you. (Like Santos would say. Presentation matters.)

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Throughout human history in this world, there has been a shadowy figure lurking on the outskirts of life-altering events. This figure may or may not have shown up in photographs along the way. While never part of the story, this figure has been bearing witness - for the record. This ostensible bystander is not allowed to interfere or influence up to a certain point. He is the watcher. He is Metatron. An earthbound ArchAngel who is here always. He travels through the annals of time. What All he knows is for him and him alone to keep track of. There will come a time when he will be reunited with the Host, but for now, he waits and watches. But like any man, Metatron has had his needs for companionship in passing. And he has left his mark along the way. This is his way to ensure a certain energy level continues to prevail. He has fathered children, and disappeared. Not very gentlemanly of him. Not exactly angelic to say the least. That being said, who among us is in the position to judge Metatron.

Metatron is one of very few other worldly beings that has access to the Book of Life, The Grotto and can channel the Akashic Records. He is the brain you would like to pick if you had the chance, but who does? His location is unknown, his appearance is ever changing and his presence, while sometimes cloaked on the sidelines, is otherwise, secret. Lately though, Metatron has been following and sticking close to a certain Saint he is determined to keep an eye on. Santos DelFuego. The Saint of Ill Repute also known as The Saint of Fire. He is a prophecy in the Records. And he murdered his daughter. Whether he meant to or not, he accidentally killed her. They called it manslaughter. Such an ugly word. He words it differently. Santos brought about her untimely demise. An untimely demise has allowances that dying in your own time does not. Metatron knows what those allowances are and what she is entitled to as a result of them. An untimely demise can be a life saver. Just like a Saint can be a Sinner, if that is what is needed.

Right now, he is watching him, close at hand, but distant enough not to be seen or identified. The restaurant looks warm and inviting. Costella’s - named for his parents. Costa and Estella DelFuego. Parents of the twin flames, Santos and Cadence. He longed for a sit down and a good meal but he didn’t dare. He could not get too close to him. Another injury could prove fatal. He must bear in mind, he is still a Saint for this time. One who needs to be redeemed. He watches as the Saint leaves for the day. He follows him back home to his parents through the annals. Following him isn’t that hard, given the restrictions placed on him for his probationary period. Three years due time. That is all that is needed. Once he is satisfied that all is settled for the night, Metatron returns to his own meager surroundings. He heats himself up some leftover stew on his hotplate and takes to his cot to sup. Living an impoverished life is never easy but it provides good cover for him. People tend not to pay too much attention to the poor in this world. There is not much in this world he really wants anyways. There is little that is not tainted by the blood of the ages. So much poisoned fruit. He almost gagged on his meal. He set it aside, having lost his appetite for it, and just about everything else. The only thing that still tasted good to him as he drifted off, was the possibility of vengeance sometime soon. Just before he fell asleep, he took his phone and posted a message. In his hands, the source was untraceable. So much the better.

Metatron is tired of not interfering. He wants to be done.

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While Metatron slept, Santos sat in front of his laptop. He had scored this one on a cash deal off the internet and had factory reset it. He was logged in under an untraceable URL and was typing with fingers flying. This set up sucked compared to the one he used to have, but that had been seized and subsequently sold at auction. He didn’t worry about anything that was on it, because he knew how to wipe it clean. Which he did regularly. He was searching the dark web furiously for anything he might recognize that would take him to where he wanted to go. He was amazed at how much garbage there was on there now. He wasn’t interested in fetish sites or perv shit. He wasn’t looking for the latest conspiracy theories or other amateur hour dumbassery. He remained vigilant and careful not to click on anything sus. He just scanned and caught up. He did not post or contribute. He was under scrutiny and would be for a while so he had to watch his step. If he knew one thing about online activity, it was better to remain - well - Anonymous.

Feeling the anxiety creeping up his spine, he logged off, wiped clean and reset his password and locked his device. He then locked his bedroom door, stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed. He slept with the light on. Fitfully, at best and with one eye open. He was alert to every sound - even his own breathing. It went through his mind again. If this could happen to him, it could happen to anybody. He still could not believe this happened to him.

The nightmare came in the early hours, like it always did. It was never literal, but it was always the same. There was conflict, followed by altercation and then…something dire. Things were slippery. Weird things, ugly things. Like blood. Blood is slippery when wet. He wasn’t drunk. He didn’t do it on purpose. He hadn’t even been mad at the time. He had seen something out of the corner of his eye.

Let’s face it. They were both very opinionated, but that didn’t mean they were fighting. Even in the nightmare, the struggle was against them, not between them. He saw something, he turned to get a better look. He accidentally turned the wheel at the same time. Something had freaked him out. A shadowy figure out of nowhere and then he lost control of everything. It happened so fast. The car lost traction. Something slippery. A light post, a crash, things spinning and then - the scream followed by silence. But the blood was the worst. The blood is always the worst. It got in his eyes.

He woke up drenched in sweat. Peri! He rubbed his forehead. Scars. There were so many scars inside and out. He pressed his palms hard against his eyes, trying not to cry. He gulped down air and looked around his childhood bedroom. This wasn’t real anymore. Nothing was. He knows he saw something. And that something saw him. That something killed her. That slippery son of a bitch killed the woman he loved. And ruined his life. Santos did not believe in ghosts before this. Now, he didn’t know what or who he believed in. He just knew he would never feel safe again.

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While we are on the subject, the standard safe combination is simple to use. The point is at 0. Twice to the Right past 0 to the First Number. All the way back around past 0 to the Second Number. Then straight to the Third Number. You just have to have the correct numbers and be exact.

On November 19, 2024 Pluto transits into Aquarius. The point goes from zero to the First Number marking the Dawn of the New Golden Age of Humankind. Then back around past zero into the next year. On July 07, 2025, Uranus transits into Gemini. The Second Number on the combination lock. The Great Disruptor meets the Twins. This energy will carry forward from there until on February 20, 2026, the next Saturn-Neptune conjunction will occur at the 0 degrees Aries point. The Point of No Return. The Third Number. This will open the lock, otherwise known as Heaven’s Gate.

Beware the Outer Planets. Their influence on All things cannot be understated. For those that do not believe in Astrology, these are still the facts. Between now and February 20, 2026, The Charge is at hand. Find the truth, get the jar, claim the rites of passage (First Rights of Redemption) and travel through the gate to release the hope back into the world for unification. Boom! There you have it. God and mortal alike can coexist once again and then evolve from there. A drop of essence (Quiddity) combined with the energy of a god will bring forth the Ethereal and all will rise from there. (Purely by Happenstance, of course. There being Serendipity in All Things.) Then this will be a fixed universe to stand the test of time. Provided there is a Second Aristocrat. Akasha being the First. It takes two Standing Aristocrats to Affix a Universe in Space/Time for All Time along the continuum. The Axis has two points. The top, and the bottom. But that is many tomorrows problems from here. For now, there is a world to save. Mostly from itself.

I don’t think I am giving away the whole story here because who is to say this is the only way or the only path forward. After All, it is a gyroscope. There may be many paths forward and others may have their own interpretation of events. Those interpretations may clash. Worlds may collide. Futures might be at stake and you may have your own ideas of what you want forever to look like.

There can be more than one way to the same result. I am just the scribe of this one. Although, I think once my name was Epiphany and I was an Oracle. Maybe that’s just me.

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