The journey of the soul was not a fall. To Shemyaza, it was like waking up from a dream, for what surrounded him now seemed more real than memory.
He stood on the shores of a vast lake between two cyclopean columns of black basalt, and silhouetted against the evening sky, Shemyaza could see an island. Reaching out to either side, he ran his hands up and down the cold stone of the pillars, feeling for any encoded message. The smooth surfaces were adorned with pictograms, more ancient than the earliest Egyptian motifs, incorporating circles, lines and dots. The columns felt real to Shemyaza’s touch, even though he was in the astral realm. They delivered a message to him, but not through any carved glyph. A soundless duet boomed through his mind:
‘Here in Zep-tepi, the first place: we are the Pillars of Life, of Adam and Eve, Joachim and Boaz. Duality in stone; the foundation. For does not your name, Shemyaza, mean the Pillar?’
Shemyaza gazed out over the lush, fertile landscape, which had once been the land of Khem: a paradise. He stood upon the Giza plateau as it had appeared six aeons ago. Shemyaza stepped between the pillars, initiating the process of returning.
Red rays reflected off the domed roof of a columned temple on the island. He could see it clearly now. History unfolded. The island was the primal mound of creation, and the temple upon it was the first ever to have been built upon the virgin body of Mother Earth. It was the original omphalos of the world. All subsequent sacred omphali had been constructed in its memory: it was the House of the Human Soul. Shemyaza knew that in the time he left behind, the great Sphinx stood in the temple’s place, and had done so for six epochs, gazing watchfully upon the changing constellations of each new aeon. Soon, it would gaze upon the stars of Mankind, the House of Aquarius. The consensual soul of humanity that rested in this house would be reborn under the light of those stars. But not yet. First, there would have to be the conception.
Shemyaza stood upon a narrow wooden jetty, to which a small boat was moored. He climbed into the boat and it began to drift swiftly towards the island. Shemyaza gazed into the water. This was the lake where all the spirits that inhabited the earth and sky were forged: the waters of life, the rivers of belief. He was reminded of the silent boat-man of all the underworld myths, who carried the souls of the dead across the waters to judgement.
The boat reached the steps to the temple. Glowing marble disappeared beneath the water, as if made of light. The boat turned itself sideways. Shemyaza climbed out without touching the sacred water; no spirits could reach out for him and suck him down into their dreaming realm.
Shemyaza looked back to the shore he had left. The black columns seemed incongruous, severe against the soft fluttering of foliage. There was nothing between them but a colourless void, for the world beyond had yet to come into being.
Inside, the temple was bare and unadorned, comprised of immense blocks of granite. It was quite dark, because the building faced east, and now the sun set behind it. Shemyaza walked towards the back of the temple, where there was a wide hole in the floor. His feet made no sound and he could not smell or hear anything. He felt calm, already resigned to the fate of possible oblivion. He had been resigned to it for a long time. There was no guarantee that his soul and spirit body would survive the experience ahead of him. The Elders would have left traps and obstacles to prevent intruders from entering the Chambers.
At the edge of the hole, he looked down and saw a flight of wide steps. After a short way, they veered abruptly to the right. Cautiously, Shemyaza began to descend, projecting an astral radiance to light his way. The walls of the stair-well were devoid of paintings or bas-reliefs. This was a functional building, laid bare like his soul and the souls of those who had built it.
The steps swooped down endlessly. Shemyaza had left time behind him, so there was no way of judging how far or how long he descended. His astral radiance lit only the step immediately below him, and even though his limbs moved to his commands, he felt like he was falling. Silence was absolute; his sense of hearing ached with it. He was unsure whether his spirit body would not fragment and diffuse before he reached the bottom of the steps.
The descent ended without him realising it, for now he walked along a horizontal surface. Sparks of coloured light flickered in the air ahead, and he became aware of space around him. He was in a passage-way, constructed of enormous blocks of stone. Again, there was no decoration upon the walls, and by his astral light he saw the passage disappearing into darkness far ahead. Behind him was a blank wall, and overhead, the entrance to a shaft. There was no sign of the steps he had descended. At his feet, lay the crystal key he had found in the Cave of Treasures, shining more brilliantly than it had in the living world. When he picked it up, the crystal’s hard surface felt warm and alive in his hands. His astral light intensified, dancing with flecks of crystal colour.
Shemyaza walked along the passageway, which sloped gently downwards. The details of his earthly life blurred in his mind. He felt no weariness, hunger or thirst, even though he’d walked for an eternity.
The passage-way ended at an immense sand-stone door, upon which was carved an image; the first decoration Shemyaza had encountered. It depicted a priest, drawn in the style of Ancient Egyptian art, who held out a ceremonial staff to a winged, lion-headed man. Shemyaza remembered what Tiy had told him about the first guardian of the Chambers. The leonine figure was Cosmocrator, Keeper of the Precessions of the Equinoxes. Between the carved figures, the door was pierced by a purple crystal, about the size of Shemyaza’s fist. He leaned down and tried to look through it, but could see nothing but darkness beyond the portal.
Shemyaza held the crystal key up before his face, and projected into it his desire to open the entrance. The key began to hum a low note, which Shemyaza willed into the crystal in the door. Presently, the inlaid stone began to glow with a red light and then to resonate with the sound. The carved figures became warped by moving shadows; they seemed alive. A jewel in Cosmocrator’s eye reflected beams of ruby light, as if Shemyaza’s intrusion had awoken him.
Shemyaza bowed respectfully. ‘Cosmocrator, I entreat you to let me pass. I am the spiritual son of those who created you. I am Shemyaza.’
The light became vaporous, and Shemyaza could see the spectre of a winged, lion-headed man standing before him; a transparent red image. The wise leonine eyes stared at him sternly, while the tones emitted by the crystal echoed off the walls. Then, so quickly that Shemyaza jumped, the image vanished and the door rolled to the side with a crash.
He stood upon the threshold of a vast, tenebrous chamber. This was the Hall of the Twelve. His body stiffened as his senses struggled to interpret what lay before him. Perspective zoomed out on all sides; he felt as tiny as a seed and his astral light now seemed dim. The hall’s ceiling was indistinct in shadow, perhaps a hundred feet overhead. Six columns of highly-polished green stone lined both sides of the chamber; so wide that eight men linking hands would not have formed a circle around one. Beyond the columns, the walls were enormous blocks of a darker green stone, highly polished yet unornamented.
Shemyaza forced himself to take the first step into the hall. It was immense, yet seemed so watchful. He did not want to hear the door crash shut behind him. The hall was sleeping, but alive. He knew that all the columns were hollow and that the twelve initiates of the Chambers had once used them to resonate the sacred tones that had created their empire.
One step. Two. He heard an echo, but it came too late, as if somebody walked furtively behind him. Turning round, he saw no-one, but the door had slid silently shut. Tentatively, Shemyaza ventured further into the hall. He was fascinated by it, drawn to it, yet it terrified him, for he sensed it was the precursor to the immense oblivion of space. Beneath his feet, the ancient flag-stones were covered by a thin film of unmarked sandy dust. He glanced round, and could see his own foot-prints leading back to the door. His astral body had substance in this place.
Tiy had told him that rituals had once taken place in the Hall of the Twelve. The Elders and their philosophy were incomprehensible to a modern mind, even that of a Grigori. Shemyaza visualised the tall, alien forms standing before each of the columns, touching them, invoking their individual tones. It seemed that faint echoes of those hollow notes reverberated through his mind, and as he walked further, he sensed ghostly forms drawer nearer.
The twelve walked beside him. The columns seemed to recognise their presence — he sensed a quickening of attention. Perhaps the phantoms were merely memories, emitted by the stone. He could not see the Elders clearly, but sensed their appearance. They were taller than he was, and clad in belted robes of turquoise linen. Their long white hair floated on the air, as if they swam through a sea of ether. Their eyes were an unnatural, cerulean blue, which was the result not simply of pigment but a radiance that filled the entire socket. Their elongated faces looked like masks. Even the pharaoh Akenaten in his wildest excesses of self-representation had looked more human. Shemyaza was not afraid of these ghostly manifestations, for they seemed oblivious of his presence, but their proximity troubled him. It was not revulsion, but simply a strong reaction against the unknown. In the world he knew, he had come to appreciate his special qualities, his divine kingship, but in this place, he was just a child.
All the pillars had a spectral memory of an Elder connected to it, bar one. Halfway down the hall, Shemyaza was drawn to this solitary pylon. It beckoned to him and seemed strangely familiar. Shemyaza placed his left hand onto its glassy surface. Intolerable cold assailed his palm and crept up his arm, and a buzzing vibration coursed through his entire being.
Shemyaza closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the pillar. He could no longer feel the burning cold, and became absorbed in the tonal vibrations that pulsed through the stone. Within them, he could hear a gabble of words and phrases. The words Tehuti-ti and Ku-na-el were whispered over and over again. Shemyaza felt swamped by drowsiness. He wanted to abandon his journey and remain connected to the column for eternity. Its power was his power; he felt at one with it. The frequency of its tones had been used to build Kharsag; he just knew it.
Gradually, he became aware of a source of prickling heat somewhere on his body that burned into his communion with the pillar. He forced himself to pull away and saw the crystal key flare brightly within the cage of his right hand. He sensed the urgency of its message and knew he had to move on.
With dragging steps, he went back into the centre of the hall. The ghostly Elders had disappeared now. Perhaps he no longer had the perception to see them.
The end of the hall was very close now. Shemyaza found he had stopped walking and was standing before a black pedestal, upon which rested two spherical crystals of astounding clarity; a small stone, with a hole in its apex, on top of a larger one. The lower crystal had two projections sticking out from either side of it like horns. Beyond the pedestal was another door of black basalt, adorned with carvings of concentric circles, which appeared to be set firmly into the wall. It did not look as if it could be opened. In the centre of the door was a black stone, similar to the one in the portal guarded by Cosmocrator.
Shemyaza extended his hand experimentally over the hole in the upper crystal. At once, the stone emitted a high-pitched tone, which ceased the moment he removed his hand. Instinctively, Shemyaza placed the crystal key into the hole, with its base uppermost. Nothing happened. The crystal spheres remained silent and colourless.
Before the Sphinx, Melandra knelt over the prostrate figure of Tiy. The old woman lay apparently lifeless upon the dusty floor of the enclosure. The crowd had drawn back, instinctively giving the two women a wide berth. In the aftermath of Tiy’s unearthly scream, the gathering seemed directionless and bewildered. Technicians swarmed over the lighting rig and stage, but as yet whatever had caused the black-out had not been rectified.
Melandra held Tiy in her lap. The old woman’s milky eyes were open, but it seemed as if they were somehow focused inwards. Melandra could only offer soft, soothing sounds. She knew they could not leave this place and if fate had decreed Tiy should die here, there was nothing they could do to alter it. At least Melandra could make sure Tiy would not die alone.
Tiy, in fact, was far from death. In a way, she had left her body, as her whole being had become concentrated on the inner world. The image of her angel son before the black pedestal filled her psychic sight. She too had heard the whispering voices within the pillar. Now she knew she had to project her own spirit voice to Shemyaza, who waited at the next gate.
‘Say it, my son. Say the words that you heard.’
She concentrated hard, willing some part of Shemyaza’s mind to hear her.
‘Hush, Tiy, hush,’ Melandra murmured as the old woman’s frail body flexed in her arms. The mutterings meant nothing to her. They were in a foreign tongue.
Shemyaza cupped his hand around the upper crystal and focused intently on its core. Knowledge came to him, but he had lost all memory of his mother, and did not realise it was her voice who gave him the information he needed.
‘Who is Tehuti-ti?’ he asked in his mind and directed his intention to open the door firmly into the spheres. Presently, the upper crystal began to glow with a golden light. Simultaneously, a ring of the same golden light appeared around the stone in the door ahead of him. He poured his will into the crystal, and gradually the light within it transformed into a blue hue. A blue ring also appeared around the stone in the door, pushing the golden ring outwards. Finally, the crystal turned red and a red ring appeared on the door. Now, three rings of gold, blue and red light vibrated around the central stone. Shemyaza knew that these circles of light represented sounds manifested as colour. If Shemyaza concentrated upon sound, he could still hear the three tones, but doing so made it difficult for him to perceive the rings. For now, he knew he must focus on the visual image alone.
The black stone in the centre of the door had also begun to glow red. Gradually, this radiance grew stronger, until all the rings merged into one vibrating red disk. The light increased in intensity, until it was glowing pure white.
Shemyaza flexed his stiff fingers away from the upper sphere. Taking a deep breath to summon his strength, he gripped the two horn-like projections on the bottom crystal. With all of his energy, he willed his desire to pass through the door into the crystals.
One moment he was staring at his own hands, the next, his body was flipping over and over through a void. He felt as if he had been turned inside out. A powerful, hungry force had sucked him forward. He was spinning and spiralling: falling. All sense of identity was peeling away from him, and seeds of panic took root in his mind.
Then, abruptly as it had started, the experience was over. He stood in another dark corridor. The door was behind him now; a red glow diminishing in its central stone. He had been projected right through it.
Shemyaza summoned his astral light once more, but found he was unable to illuminate the passageway. Despite the darkness, he could sense its walls, floor and ceiling. He began to walk along it and presently saw another red glow ahead of him. His astral body felt alien and uncomfortable after his passage through the door, almost as if it was losing substance. He must not linger in this place. As he travelled deeper into the Chamber complex, he risked losing his sense of identity completely. His task must be completed as soon as possible, before he lost the memory of why he was here.
After twenty steps or so, Shemyaza became conscious of a low, deep hum that vibrated the air around him. The sound invaded his being, conjuring greater discomfort. Abruptly, both the red glow ahead and the humming ceased. For a moment, he was suspended in darkness, then the walls of the passageway bloomed with a soft radiance. He could see a door not far in front of him.
Just ahead, two carvings of enormous serpents looped out from the wall. Their bodies were encased within the walls, as if they had been frozen in the act of moving through them, like ghosts. Shemyaza knew that these were guardians, perhaps of a more technological nature than Cosmocrator. Cautiously, he approached them, aware that anything might happen if he acted impulsively. Pausing just in front of them, he extended one hand. At once, a curtain of red light appeared, accompanied by a shrill, harsh tone. Shemyaza winced and quickly withdrew his hand. Immediately, both the red field and the shrieking tone disappeared. The air was filled with a pungent, bitter odour; a residue of the force field. Shemyaza was unsure of what to do. He had left the crystal key behind in the Hall of the Twelve. He could not use it again.
Hesitantly, he extended his hand once more to invoke the field. No matter how hard he pressed against it, the force repelled his being. Maybe he would fail here, a victim of ignorance.
The rigid form of Tiy sprawled in Melandra’s lap, barely breathing. The old seeress still watched her son’s journey. She could see the serpents that barred his way and, to her, they were very much alive, rippling constantly through the solid stones of the wall. It was obvious to her what Shemyaza must do. The legends of his own notoriety provided the clue.
‘Look at the serpents, Shemyaza,’ she cried in her mind. ‘They are like you. They are you. Remember, you are the serpent in Eden, whom the vengeful god commanded to crawl on his belly in humility.’
Shemyaza did not hear these words, but they invaded his instinctive mind. He thought nothing of Eden or temptation, but simply experimented with an idea that had come to him. Keeping the red field in place with one hand, he ran the other slowly down its surface, until he was squatting on the floor. He laughed in surprise, pleased that his wild supposition had been correct. The field did not extend right to the floor. There was a gap. Was it wide enough for him to wriggle under it? He removed his hands and the field disappeared. Then, he lay down on his stomach, facing the door ahead. Slowly, he began to inch forward.
The curtain of light did not appear until the crown of his head had passed between the serpents. Then, it manifested with its shrill scream, and Shemyaza felt as if someone had punched him in the head. He turned his face to the side and kept wriggling. The high-pitched hum filled his being, vibrating so quickly, it made the bones of his astral body itch and ache. His mind felt as if it was under a terrible strain and he was afraid he’d lose consciousness, trapped beneath the force field. But gradually, driven by determination, he slithered forward, flattening himself as much as possible. The pressure on his back felt like intense pins and needles, as if the red energy was cooking his etheric substance. But it was too late to turn back now; he had to keep moving.
He only knew he was through when the infuriating hum ceased abruptly. Pulling his body up into a ball, he rolled over and then knelt up. Behind him, the serpents stared placidly out from the walls. For a while, he could not continue. When he tried to stand up, lights pulsed in front of his eyes and he felt nauseous. Willing these uncomfortable sensations to ease off, he sat with his knees up, his head thrust between them. This is an astral experience. Fight it! After a while, he was able to get up without falling over, although he still felt dizzy and sick.
Adjacent to the door ahead of him was another black pedestal supporting two spheres. Shemyaza groaned, unwilling to endure another nightmare journey through a crystal portal. Leaning against the pedestal, he blinked at the door. It took him a moment to realise, with relief, that it did not possess a central passage stone. Perhaps his intention alone would be enough to open this door. Weakly, he gripped the horns projecting from the lower crystal on the pedestal.
I can’t do this. I’ve no energy left. No strength.
But he had to go on. If not, he’d be trapped in this corridor, with no hope of rescue and would remain there until his astral body broke up and dispersed.
You have to try.
He braced himself on splayed legs and arched his spine. With his remaining strength, he projected his will into the crystals, and visualised the door ahead opening up. At first, nothing happened, but then the top crystal began to glow weakly, sporadically. Shemyaza slumped. He felt exhausted.
‘Do it, Shem,’ he said aloud, and heard Salamiel’s voice in his mind.
‘Don’t stray from revolution, brother. Do it; do it now.’
Yes! Shemyaza gripped the stone once more and poured his will into it, but it was not enough. He slammed his fists down onto the pedestal, filled with anger.
‘What is this?’ he cried aloud. ‘I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me to be. Why all these obstructions and difficulties? Don’t tell me love will open this door.’
With a cry of rage, he gripped the horns and blasted the crystals with the energy of his emotion. He was sure his mind would burst with the effort, but then it seemed he broke through an invisible barrier. The crystals sang out their tones for him, and a bolt of energy knocked him backwards, although he did not fall. His body was shaking. Something was different. Something…
He became aware of an alien presence around and within him; an unfamiliar personality that haunted the corners of his mind. The etheric temperature had become lower and his body seemed to be moving in a way that was strange to him. He stumbled forward and of its own volition, his body straightened up before the doors. Instinctively, he raised his arms high and a voice issued from his throat. It was not his voice.
‘I am Sin-Na-Ru! I am the Opener. Open unto me.’
Immediately, and with almost inappropriate slowness, the doors swung gently inwards. At the same time, the alien presence rushed out of him, in a spasm that felt as if his whole body was sneezing violently. Shemyaza did not pause to think about what had just occurred. He hurled himself through the doors before they could swing closed.
Shemyaza lay winded on a hard surface, his eyes squeezed shut. He felt totally spent. Gradually, a deep rhythmic sound seeped into his awareness. It was impossible to classify accurately, as it sounded like a sibilant drum, a deep heartbeat and gravel shifting all at the same time. The pounding became louder, until it filled the whole chamber. Shemyaza opened his eyes.
He was in a trapezoid room that was wider behind him than ahead. The door through which he’d entered had already closed again. Doors led off to left and right and there was another in the opposite wall. Shemyaza lay down again on his back, with his knees raised. There was time to recuperate now. He would allow himself that. Feelings coursed through him: shock, ecstasy, relief. This was one of the twelve antechambers to the Crystal Chamber itself. Only one more obstacle lay ahead: the door in the opposite wall.
Once he felt rested, he sat up to examine his surroundings. The chamber was lit by an invisible light source and built entirely of the familiar, polished green stone. Its floor was carved with deep concentric grooves, trisected by straight channels that led from the centre of the circles to each of the three doors ahead. Shemyaza recognised them from Tiy’s descriptions of the Chambers. The straight furrows were part of a geometric pattern that connected all the ante-chambers with the great, central chamber itself. In the middle of the concentric grooves lay a deep hole, which presumably was once used to accommodate a crystal key, similar to the one he’d left in the Hall of the Twelve. The walls of the ante-chamber were covered in abstract patterns; cubes, oblongs, triangles and dots, which Shemyaza identified as the script of the Elders. The room felt unthinkably ancient, but the patterns and the substance of the walls themselves reminded him of an advanced technology. There was something strangely futuristic about the place.
In the distant past, each ante-chamber would have been used by one of the Twelve as a place to prepare for communication with the source of all creation, which they accessed via the crystal gate in the central room. The Elders had used a process that enabled them to resonate their astral bodies with the sonic vibrations emitted by their key crystals. These astral forms, once freed from the encumbrance of flesh, were able to traverse the grooves cut into the floor, using them as etheric highways. The astral forms were projected along the interconnected lines towards the crystal gate in the central chamber, and there the Elders would enter into its matrix. Neolithic shamans had once learned to use the energy of ley-lines in much the same way, and had travelled in spirit along lines of earth energy that criss-crossed the land. This was one aspect of the Elders’ vast knowledge of natural science and technology, which over the millennia had become shrouded in ignorance and lost, remembered only as magic or sorcery
Shemyaza knew that if he succeeded in his task, the science of the Elders would be rediscovered and utilised for the benefit of all. If humanity were able to harness the power of their own natural life-force they would have access to free energy. The implications were enormous. At the very least, the planet would be saved from environmental destruction. And that would only be the beginning. Soon, if all went well, scientists and archaeologists would come to these chambers and embark upon deciphering the Elder script. Perhaps they would learn the secrets of the Chambers and the power that built them. And maybe, with that knowledge, they would see the folly of their narrow-minded beliefs, and learn to initiate change. They might dare to dream; anathema at present to those lords of academe, who clung to what was solid and physical, and understood only by the limited perceptions of the human intellect.
Shemyaza got to his feet, putting aside these ideas for the future. They would remain as dreams if he did not fulfil his destiny. Before he could make a decision about whether to investigate the other ante-chambers or go straight for the heart of the complex, the air became filled with a buzzing noise similar to static electricity. Shemyaza’s astral body shivered in alarm. He turned round quickly and found himself face to face with a tall, alien figure that towered over him by at least a foot. Shemyaza instinctively backed away. One of the Elders stood before him, but this was impossible. They had long been dead.
The image shimmered like a badly-tuned TV picture, then appeared to become completely solid. The muscles of the Elder’s face rippled with small, subtle movements that conveyed communication. His eyebrows rose and fell, his mouth pursed and stretched, he blinked and twitched the muscles of his cheeks and throat. It was a form of speaking, but without language. Shemyaza understood the Elder completely, almost as if he could hear the words. ‘I have waited long for the advent of a child of the Twelve. A son of Kharsag has come. I have analysed your etheric substance. It is apt that you are of Ku-na-el’s seed.’
Shemyaza approached with caution. The Elder had communicated his message and now stood expressionless and utterly without movement. Shemyaza had never beheld such stillness. Like the ghostly forms he had encountered in the Hall of the Twelve, the Elder was dressed in a turquoise robe of thin, shimmering fabric, embroidered with silver thread. Around his neck, he wore a peculiar necklace of golden balls, perhaps a symbol of office. His long white hair fell down over his chest, but apart from that, he appeared to have no body hair at all. His skin was as glossy as polished stone, and his smoking blue eyes gazed upon infinity.
Shemyaza reached out to touch the Elder’s robe but before his reaching fingers made contact, communication began again; a strange twitching of features.
‘I am the essence of Ish-na-el. You have penetrated to the core of the complex. You that have come: know the history of the Millennia of Eternities.’
Shemyaza was unsure of whether the Elder existed in reality or not. ‘I am Shemyaza,’ he said slowly.
The Elder’s features moved again. ‘You are the one who has come, and your advent presages the time when the Chambers may be reopened. I am the last of the Twelve. A memory of my image will be placed here to guard this complex. We, the Twelve, will then return to the Source, but a part of me will be left behind to assist you with your task. It is the duty of my son, Ra-Na-El, to complete the closure of the Chambers, and this he will do, after my word.’
Shemyaza still wanted proof that the image before him was interactive. ‘Tell me, Ish-na-el, how do you know it is time for the chambers to be reopened?’
The Elder’s eyes seemed to fix upon him. ‘Know this, son of Kharsag. As the seers of your time look into the past, so our eyes have looked into the future. Even as we are forced to close down the complex, we are aware that they will one day be reactivated and used in wisdom. As you stand here, the pole star has revolved through its seven axes six times. Six of the twelve stellar constellations have risen before the eyes of the Watcher, Hor-em-Akhet. The aeons of their influence have come and gone. Now is the time for the constellation of Mankind to rise.’
‘Ish-na-el, can you hear my words? Do you speak to me?’
Ish-na-el seemed to smile, but perhaps it was just the expression of a word. ‘Your world is not my world. I no longer exist. I am a projected memory, here merely to grant you knowledge of the word. I can no longer generate sound. Words are lost to me, and the word alone will open the portal. Your spirit body is the comprehension of sound and etheric light. You must speak the word of opening. I will accompany you on your journey to come, for by the agency of your spirit, this part of me will return to the Source, whence my brethren have long retired, and there forever remain.’
‘What happened to you?’ Shemyaza asked. ‘Why did you close the Chambers down?’
‘The age of our empire is coming to an end. We have created many empires, and each one of them has ended in destruction. This is the cycle laid down by the will of the Source. We, the Twelve, are not the only council who seek to govern the evolution of life. The Renowned Old Ones are the keepers of genesis and through us, their creations, they bring evolution to worlds and light from the Source, to the flesh of worldly creatures. But there is an equal and opposite force, whose nature is to stop the process of genesis and to extinguish the life-giving light that comes from the Source. The denizens of this force are known in your tongue as the Star-Spawn of Da’ath. Their names cannot be given to you in our language. Know only that their existence is as fundamental to the multiverse as that of the Renowned Old Ones. In this way, the balance of creation and destruction is maintained. Our purpose is only to create. We cannot destroy, and so the Chambers must be preserved and closed. Then we, the Twelve, will disperse our hybrid families out into the world to bring genesis to new cultures.’
Shemyaza walked around the Elder, examining him. ‘What happened to you? Why did your empire end?’
The image of Ish-na-el shimmered briefly, as if he shuddered at the recollection. ‘One of our Brethren, Ku-na-el, has turned away from acts of creation. He no longer travels with us through the stars to commune with the Source. He no longer brings back the essence of creation, but traverses the land above, recreating himself as a god in the eyes of the humans who dwell there. His shallow hubris has changed the function of these Chambers. One of the Star Spawn of Da’ath has found entry to this world through the crystal gate. Its presence has begun to affect the planet’s atmosphere and the earth’s crust itself has shifted. This has caused great cataclysms, and we must now close down the complex to preserve the work we have accomplished and seal the gate. Thus, the Star Spawn will be denied entry.’
Shemyaza faced the Elder once more. ‘How did you close the chambers down?’
‘The tones of life within the crystal gate have already been silenced. With what remains of our power here, we the Twelve, have created a symbol in stone of the constellation of the lion, which after the final procedures of closure have been completed, will seal the entrance to the Chambers. This great monument to our fall is He Who Watches, who Is Hor-em-Akhet. He will be left in this place to mark the age in which our empire here ended. His function is to watch the precession of the equinoxes. As you stand here, the time has come for Hor-em-Akhet to reveal his secrets to the world, and this process has facilitated the advent of your coming.’
‘The Sphinx...’ Shemyaza said. ‘Were you responsible for erecting the pyramids as well?’
‘We know of these structures. We have seen four aeons into the future and have witnessed their construction. In that time, an initiate of Thoth, who is Imhotep, will find the gate of the Cosmocrator and there devise the plans to build three mighty edifices to map out the stars of Cosmocrator’s law.’
Shemyaza spoke bleakly. ‘The stars of Orion. My prison, my hell and my heaven.’
‘The edifices of Imhotep will draw from below the remnants of our power in these Chambers. Within the pyramids, kings and priests will, for but a brief time, be initiated into the forgotten ways of our law. Ku-na-el seeks to destroy us, and all our work, but he will fail. This land will remember, and through those memories the races of the world will dream in symbols the legacy of our achievements.’
Shemyaza frowned. ‘When I first entered here, you told me that I was the seed of Ku-na-el. How is that so? If I was, then surely I would not have been granted entrance.’
‘He that changed the function of these Chambers must come to initiate its reversal. You are the son of Anu, who is the son of Ku-na-el. Throughout the generations of your blood-line, our fall has been replayed.’ The Elder paused, and lifted his hands. ‘Now come unto me. The history is told. Speak the word, and together we shall open the crystal gate once more. We shall traverse the duat back to the centre of the circle of life.’
Shemyaza sighed. ‘This means, then, I will not return to life on earth.’ He had hoped it might be possible and experienced a pang of lonely desolation, glimpsing an eternity of the emptiness of space, lit by cold stars.
Ish-na-el again seemed to smile. ‘Fear not, son of Kharsag. Your province on this world has far from ended. Hor-em-Akhet will open the way for your return.’
Shemyaza saw that the image of Ish-na-el hovered an inch or so above the floor at the centre of the chamber, directly over the deeply-cut hole. ‘I left the key crystal in the Hall of the Twelve,’ he said. ‘What can I use in its place?’
‘It is of no consequence,’ Ish-na-el replied. ‘Your form is of sound within light. We need only the word of power to gain entry into the crystal gate.’
Ish-na-el beckoned Shemyaza to draw nearer. ‘Now, take unto you the remnants of my image.’
Shemyaza walked right up to Ish-na-el and found the Elder lacked solid substance, like a phantom. Standing within the image, he felt the essence of Ish-na-el vibrating all around him, melding with his own being. Once he had absorbed this life-force, he could barely feel the Elder’s presence. Standing tall, he faced the closed doors that led to the central chamber and opened his mouth to expel the word of opening in a gust of energy: ‘Ak-shee!’
At once the doors flew open and Shemyaza felt himself drawn swiftly along the deeply-cut groove in the floor that led out of the chamber. He was an etheric liquid flowing hectically along the stone channel. Propelled into the central chamber, he sped towards the great crystal itself. Its immense and terrifying image burned into his senses. The crystal was conical; a rearing structure that symbolised creative power, far larger than the stone he had entered in the Cornish underworld. Its exterior at first appeared rough and dull, but then a shining bolt of energy preceded Shemyaza’s spirit to its core. Its heart began to glow with a rosy light.
Shemyaza was drawn into the stone itself, passing easily through the particles of the matrix. This was almost a familiar feeling, similar to what he’d experienced only five years before in Cornwall. He was suspended within the stone, surrounded by flashing colours of the spectrum. This was where the sensation of familiarity ended.
Shemyaza felt his spirit begin to separate into seven distinct spheres of pure light and energy. They floated and bobbed, each a dazzling spectral colour. Shemyaza’s mind was also divided into the spheres. In yellow-gold resided pure awareness; in flaming orange, reasoning; in violet, intuition; in blue, wisdom; in crimson, will; in green, emotion and in indigo, understanding. Shemyaza was suffused with a feeling of comfort: through his seven minds, his brethren were still with him. Ish-na-el’s essential presence also remained within and around him, but there was now no communication between them.
Shemyaza became aware that the spheres of his being had begun to oscillate rapidly within the crystal matrix. He could sense once again the seven strident tones that had cleared the entrance shaft to the chambers. The oscillation increased and then, in one shattering wave, Shemyaza’s spirit bodies exploded into white light that shimmered with tiny crystal flecks of their original colour. He became one with the crystal and passed through the particles that comprised it, into the spaces between them. The white light had vanished and only blackness enveloped his consciousness.
Shemyaza had passed through the gateway and was now travelling fast. He sensed he was being pulled, but was unable to discern any sense of direction. He could not see any stars, but was aware that he was traversing the duat, which comprised the constellations of Sirius, Orion, Leo and the Hyades.
His awareness had become limitless. He could feel the presence of every atom of matter in the universe, avoiding collision with them through sub-atomic resonance. Space and time itself folded around him. He moved through the eternal, amorphic sea of black matter, which existed in a constant state of flux and mutability.
When the journey ended, the particles that had been Shemyaza had not experienced a sense of the passage of time. He had simply stopped moving, and was no longer aware of the moment when his movement had begun or ended. All that existed was nothingness, without form: a void empty of structured matter, time and life. Then, in the utter neverness, dim red discarnate masses began to form around him. They throbbed with an indescribable energy, pulsating like great jelly-fish, hanging in the vastness of this space beyond all stars. Their appearance was amorphic, but Shemyaza sensed they were comprised of the primal substance from which all life derived. He knew then that he had reached the centre of the universe; the point of creation. It was the nucleus of the cosmic pool, from where the concentric ripples of life had surged outwards. The energy beings, who were the inhabitants of this realm, could not communicate with Shemyaza through language, or even through thought. They imbued him with instinctual knowledge, through perpetually emitting the resonance of three tones. In this manner they informed him that they were the Great Architects, the primordial beings of all creation, the source of all gods. The three tones, which Shemyaza had first heard in the Chambers of Light, were their building blocks: a sonic force that through the medium of light created matter itself and transmuted that matter into life. From them, the Renowned Old Ones had issued forth, as cosmic seed to inseminate with life the barren worlds of the multiverse.
The tones resonated through the discarnate particles of Shemyaza’s mind, their vibrations telling him he must become as the Renowned Old Ones. He had only to name the three tones.
Shemyaza extended his senses throughout the multiverse, seeking the names. They existed somewhere, and no realm was denied to him, but he failed to find the knowledge he sought. Then, the presence of Ish-na-el pervaded his being once more. The Elder was leaving him, but in his passing, bestowed to Shemyaza awareness of the names. It was his final gift of creation.
The first tone Shemyaza named Ain; the second Ain Soph; the third Ain Soph Aur. Instantaneously, the blackness became limitless white light. He felt a great sense of coagulation and pressure. Immeasurable heat and sound surrounded him, as all of the particles of his being condensed together.
His form had changed. Now, he was a gigantic, tear-drop shaped creature of light, almost cetaceous in nature. He sped back through the void, and the three primal tones vibrated through him and out of him, in the endless black ocean between the stars. The tones constructed new life and he would bring them back to the world of his own conception.
The crystal gate was waiting, as a womb waits for the fertilising seed. Shemyaza’s energy form returned to it, penetrating through the surface shell of its matrix, like the explosion of a crashing meteorite. He buried himself deep inside, burrowing to the centre. The tones still pulsed out of his being, boring into the core of the crystal’s energy source. A spark of white light flickered into life there.
At the Sphinx, Tiy still observed the inside of the central chamber. She saw the giant crystal fill completely with blinding white light. She saw the great stone begin to revolve and hum like a spinning top. Rays of light shot out from all over its surface, inundating the lines, grooves and circles carved into the chamber’s floor and walls. Soon this light would flood the whole chamber complex and spill out into the world. The soul of Mankind was being reconceived. In time, a golden age would be born. And a new sun would rise in the east to greet the gaze of the watchful Sphinx. Her son. Now Tiy began to weep for his loss.