The Tales of the New Sun – I wrote, with gothic-like letters.
Under the letters, the Tree-Tower. With my magic ink, I made it much bigger than the first time I drew it. Now, the tree is huge. It is said that it is three kilometers tall! A whole city hangs from the branches as if they were fruit.
I wonder if this place exists, or it is just a part of a myth?
It is said that each fruit is a different world. And that only the Riders, a very specific type of Being, are able to ride the Tree, with their seven-legged horses.
Travelers of Worlds.
I am writing in the Book of the New Sun all those words, with golden and silver letters. And they shine under this blue moon, with celestial light. Baptized by those New Stars, this new firmament.
It is said that high on top of the Tree, there lives Gerond, the Wise Man, surrounded by his immense Library, of all the things that were, are and will be. He writes, paints, creates music and sends inspiration to all the Worlds, so that they will continue his Work. Because not even him know how Art will unfold. Art is the biggest mysterium of it all, freed from the currents of time and cause and effect.
Then, another image appeared within the book. And I say “within” because this is how those images are coming up. Erupting from the pages. It was a young rider. He is riding the Tree with his 7 legged horse. He is the God of Travelers. A magician. A shape-shifter. Traveler of worlds, he keeps the Tree healthy, the sab that connects the worlds running, like blood. He looks out for signs of sickness that plague the tree in different places. He repairs the bridges and keeps the Keys of the different Portals. His name is Aris. Sometimes is portrayed as a sort of angel, with wings, a sword in one hand, the keys in the other.
Next page.
I see a magician.
I see myself, with green robes, with a green tunic. I have my own tree-tower, that for many years I have been building, with my own hands, my own blood, my own magic. I am the only one that remembers the lost world of the Tree-Tower, axis mundi. Why is that? Something happened. Something happened, poison, the sab of the tree stopped flowing and the tree died. But there is a sapling somewhere, otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to imagine, to create, to rebuild that lost lore. At one point, Aris couldn’t protect the tree, anymore. And a darkness took over it. And the tree slowly withered and died. And the travelers couldn’t go from world to world, anymore. The only thing left is Art and Fiction. And Imagination. But these are also dying out, slowly.
I am here to Open the Portals back. But I must be careful. I must work in the darkness, for now. I must work in the shadows, under the New Moon. The Dark Woman of the Black Moon. I heard her dogs howling, the dangling of keys, her ghostly torch within the mist.
I heard you talking with the Goddess of the Sun – I hear her voice, through the walls, humid darkness, damp magic. Danger – But your work must start in the Underworld. From the roots. There’s no running away, anymore. I found you. And I am not going to release you, anymore.
The goddess of Sorcery, of poison, plants, sex. Wolves, Owls and Bats. She is riding a wolf, her fangs filled with blood. Her eyes are also injected in blood.
I must descend. I must ride the Wolf. And to ride the wolf I must first vanquish it.
I remember, as if it was yesterday, her smirk. You are pale, weak. You are not a man. You are just a child, lost among the books.
-Am I not worthy of you? – I ask, with a pathetic voice.
-It doesn’t matter what I think of you – she spat on the floor. The wolf growls – But if you are here, you already did more than the majority of men.
-Are you Hekate?
-You can think of me as a sort of sister. Hekate is just a group of similar Beings, with similar attributes. We all inhabit the night, we are related to the underworld, death, poison, sorcery, sex – She smiled. A smirk – And we make men very uncomfortable. They call us the Whore because they don’t understand female freedom. Men want to control the female, and everything that they don’t understand.
Many questions were falling over me, as if it was a waterfall. I opened my mouth, but no words would come out. I felt paralyzed. Her eyes. Her bloody eyes. I can’t stop looking at them. Her fangs. Growling. Her tongue is growing. Getting closer and closer…
And closer…
Back!
I heard a masculine voice. Very clear. It was my own voice. It was my true voice.
Back down, now!
A black snake in front of me. She attacked my neck. I jumped back, an acrobatic jump. The snake’s mouth closed in the air, and spat green poison. Instintively, I reached for a weapon, on my side. To my sheath. But it was empty. The sword!
-My sword! Where…?!
No sword can harm me!
At that moment I knew how hopeless it was to fight a Goddess. I don’t even know how self-deluded I was to even think I could be a match to her. There must be a different way. There has to be a different way.
Acceptance.
Accept the gift of this goddess.
A gift?! She is going to kill you with poison.
-No – my true voice answered – You need her poison. Because only through her poison you will get the antidote that your life needs.
I will die from this poison! This is madness!
-Yes. You must allow her to kill you.
I don’t understand.
-You will.
I stopped right there and looked straight into the snake’s eyes. My heart pumping so fast. My body trembling. I clenched my teeth. And said.
Agathe. I am ready. Ready to receive your GIFT.