Veil One Timeline

September 6th – The Grace Fields

Nate closed his eyes, and that’s when he surrendered. “Please help. Help me,” he said, staring into the distance with a glazed stare.

Dark horizontal stripes formed above the sand.

He squinted. “What now?” His mouth was dry and full of sores. “What now?”

The dark stripes blended into one another, shifting and morphing, creating shapes that flickered in and out of sight. Whatever it was, it was walking towards him. But Nate closed his eyes. He had no energy. A minute later, he opened his eyes again. The figure had taken form.

It’s human!

Nate sat up and brushed his eyes.

He focused.

There was something behind the figure.

Nate’s eyes widened.

He attempted to stand.

As the figure approached, Nate perceived it as another hallucination. A haze was sliding over the landscape. Behind the figure, the haze dissipated, and a forest came into view. Nate glanced left and right as the forest enveloped them. Majestic trees rose from the earth and swayed against the sky. The sun-dappled leaves flickered in the sun. Moss climbed up its trunks and there were berry bushes and a stream!

Nate ran to quench his thirst from the flow of fresh water, and stood again, wiping the droplets off his lips as he gazed in awe. The figure approached. He recognised him. LitSPear! Or rather, one fragment of LitSpear as a magnificent native American Indian. Of course, a RayCrest! He walked as in slow motion towards him, his long hair raised by gusts of wind. He wore native American handmade clothing with intricate embroidery of black and white lines around the edges standing out against the fabric. A silver pendant with an aquamarine stone hung from his right ear, while his expression showed a deep wisdom. The sheer power that radiated from him captivated Nate.

They came face to face.

Stolen story; please report.

“My name is Ethriel,” he said with a deep voice that shook Nate to his core.

“I am N-nate,” he said.

Ethriel glanced at him with a subtle smile. He was reading him. Nate was so overwhelmed that tears welled in his eyes. “You’re a LitSpear!” said Nate.

Ethriel smiled and nodded. Nate followed him along an uneven ravine to a clearing in the forest. Ethriel lifted his hands in the air like an orchestra conductor. The gentle, sweeping motions of his body made Nate still, not wishing to interrupt the surreal moment. It was martial arts, but Ethriel was on another level. Was it even Kung Fu?

Tribal singing echoed through the air.

Ethriel opened his arms, and the landscape shifted into a foggy expanse. The ground transformed into a pool of water.

“We’re walking on water! We’re walking on water?”

A towering wave rose high above him. He braced himself, afraid it would pound him.

It was a vast mirror that reflected his anxieties. It played different scenes from Nate’s life. Some were good memories. Except it stopped in a scene of a beach bar, just as Nate went to pick up a tequila cocktail from the bar.

“No!” came from the pit of Nate’s soul.

“No!” he said, glaring at the RayCrest. “How could you! I refuse!”

Nate tried to run, but that created more ripples in the water, and so more mirrors. Now he had ten mirrors everywhere. As he tried to walk away, an increasing number of mirrors manifested until Nate stood still.

“What you resist persists,” said Ethriel.

“Kenya shared the secret of this place with me. She said she ran away. Why can’t I run away?”

“This field is unique to you.”

“Why?” Nate’s eyes shot wide.

Nate’s eyes adjusted after another screen of fog revealed a scene of a ritual. The scene that brought him to Machia?

“You have a purpose. Like all human beings,” said Ethriel. “Yours was never to cross to Machia Veil. This event, your forced entry, caused an imbalance. Your forced entry has compromised your purpose and, with it, all of consciousness. We must raise your vibration and rebalance the quadrant. You’re the tipping point.”

“What tipping point? Of what?” Nate scrambled to understand.

“The cause of the imbalance.”

“But why?”

“It’s been fifty years of exchanges,” said Ethriel. “Your forced entry caused instability, as with your mother.”

“About my mother,” said Nate. “Can’t you just work your magic and get us through?”

“How do hot-air balloons fly?” Ethriel asked.

“Er, hot-air balloon? What?”

“What do they carry?”

“Sandbags?”

“And how does it fly?”

“By shedding the sandbags?” he said, shrugging.

“Raising your vibration allowed you to see me. The same occurs when crossing. You must shed the fear-based conditioning to raise your vibration. Just like a balloon needs to shed its sandbags to soar into the sky.”

Nate stared at Ethriel. Then at the mirrors. “What happens if I fail?”

“Consciousness becomes extinct. A return to a primitive state.”

“So, you’re saying I am the tipping point because Archs took it too far by forcing my entry to Machia?”

“They did.”

Nate glanced at the mirrors.

“Are you also saying it doomed us to something worse than Machia?”

“I am.”

Nate breathed in. “Help me get through this.”