The Justiceers - Part Four: Chapter Eighteen
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Justiceers
by Daphne Garrido
Part Three: The Will to Choose
Part Four: Prefinished Business
4.18
Throughout the entirety of her most full and complete lifetime, where that darkness had shown in witnessings of a now lost timeline where her world would be consumed by despair — in fact, only ever a vision of inspiration within in each life it had been seen, and never to make the final telling of our Great Light’s divine story of this universe — only born within the hearts and minds of these souls who lifetimes would lead us to the planet called Omirion at longest last.
Gwevera Nightingale had changed her definition’s placement a thousand times in her lifetime, always beside a freshly witnessed embodiment of her favorite soul when she’d done it, proclaiming proudly to have uncovered the truth ‘for-real this time’.
Yet it was only now, at the age of one-hundred and eighty-two, ever that Princess in spirit until till her soon to be final breath, when she’d finally figured it out.
Heaven was this entire planet; her whole life.
There was no need to pick one moment, everything here was perfect, her heart could not escape further revelations of soul from emerging for one single second spent upon Omirion. There would never be perfection such as this, so developed through the trials and errors of a universe which had seen most infinite variation of its souls of origin manifest, and this was the singular place where every last being would find their deepest and most profoundly healing love.
Peace was something real, a tangible energy anchored within the hearts of those souls so bound to our first home, that very planet itself infused with their own unique conscious expression of The Great Light; Peidirò.
Love also happens to be quite real, a force bound within the hearts and souls who we call Scribes, even that one writing this very text, ever compelled towards the future and our heaven which lie on the planet of her own spirit’s consciousness; Omirion.
Arthur and Miriam, Urina and Celine, Moria and Enius, King Arthur and Erick Forsithe, Yemi and Illith — Gwevera and Montmoth, with their Morecai and Jaqui — then of course Mary, and that luckiest girl from the planet Earth who had been given the name of Daphne; they were all connected to a most dualistic yet singular purpose.
They were to help others remember the peace from which we all had come, and to know the healing love we are heading towards in the end.
No heart or mind gets left behind in this universe, even Carrigan Marks and Miriam Lightfoot would enjoy the splendors of this lifetime from beyond, and every journey which led here. There had never been a shred of doubt, because the two who’d see it done on behalf of The Great Light were blessing with its wisdom and most powerful hearts of peace and love, showing them the way from their earliest days of life, coding within each sight they’d need to push them where they needed to go, finally allowing the transformation into all they’d been meant to become.
Miriam had gotten that one wrong a ways back, herself so prone in the past to those same failures of listening, which her darkest visage known as Lightfoot had come to show most clearly through their horrors, lending her own pain into that space where Arthur’s heart of peace should have been, projecting her single deepest fear onto the universe itself; that she’d never go home.
Those lives so lost from soul, the devil’s made by hatred placed upon them, the very same mechanisms which had birthed the evil which would now be destroyed for once and all by Yemi and the God stowed within her Grammaton, would find their own healing in time. Path’s leading through reflection and growth of spirit in ways which others would choose to avoid, prolonging that route home, yet never to be truly lost.
Every soul was the child of Admanium, and they loved us all quite thoroughly regardless of anything we may have done in the face of those challenges they’d placed before us. If any being knew the truth of this struggle to be alive and separated from spirit, the hurt of thinking yourself alone in the universe, it was the oneness who created it all to not feel alone in the first place.
Time was coming for this most beautiful life to end at last for Gwevera Nitingale.
She’d spent such time in her King Morecai’s arms, bathing in the waters of Temeath, adventuring with her love through the wonders of Umeth and its most lustrous forests of peace.
Today would be the day, and she had known for quite a while.
Morecai would live on without her for a time — a hardest thing for his heart, no doubt — yet she’d prepared him so, teaching of the ways in which they’d find each other again. Her love had simply been so bright by this time that there was nothing but the purest divine truth pouring through her at every moment.
It spoke of all which had come before and would return again in the universal-cycles to come, to be relived in perpetuity from their facsimiles of soul on high who existed beyond the structures of time. They’d lead themselves from that place between this plane and the next through every lifetime, showing signs to point the way, birthing feelings into their body’s which they’d never forget, and tell them everything they needed to know. This wisdom taught of the closeness Morecai would feel after Gwevera’s departure to her soul itself, a blessing of connection beyond the pale of what could be known to any other, a love inside him to inspire the things he was meant to do after she’d gone.
The challenge of this was Morecai, Arthur, Mary, and those countless others’ greatest trial. Their hearts so incredibly powerful, they felt things more deeply than anyone else, even the siren of their peace. To love in the ways she’d bring out of them, and have to go on without it, would be the greatest fear they could ever overcome.
It was the inverted analog of my souls fear to never see them again in that time of separation our souls would always know before finding each other again; itself a metaphor of the journey we all take in this universe, and the motivation to make Omirion possible.
Strength would be born inside these beings so tied together through time, by overcoming these most difficult trails which any soul would experience throughout the eternal fabric of the cosmos, their whole lives programing them to conquer a most overwhelming fear at last so they could become the Gods they truly were.
Every single soul in this universe was born of The Great Light, and a God of some making, on one level of this most epic patternwork of spirit which exists in layers beyond, its reach as infinite as the space within this universe itself.
Admanium was just a name I made up.
Beyond the two who started this all, in this universe, and would lead to abundance being propagated throughout every planet, system, and galaxy in this cosmic wholeness, so uniquely designed for each-other and bringing out those most empowering challenges to overcome for love, there were still many others who had joined them here.
Each one of these souls and their lives were as divine and important as the two who’d find themselves born from the innate energies of this universe. It was the knowing of this fact, and the way these two were programmed uniquely to never forget how equal they were with every other, which made them the leaders they were born from The Great Light to be.
Prince Morecai had been so tender of late, trying to conceal his grief as he’d watched over Gwevera in their most beautiful bedchamber made of her former study at that great observatory overlooking Temeath.
His lips had kissed the gills on her neck most often throughout this stretch of heaven, an adored pastime which would reverberate in ways through all their lifetimes, and she’d held him to her chest every second she could; always her most favorite place to be.
They’d finally stopped crying together before it had come, knowing in their ways it was finally upon them, Morecai’s gut now speaking with even more clarity than Gwevera’s heart.
He’d kissed her for the longest stretch, slowing time in ways which would not be seen again until the end of the next universal-cycle, and then they’d gone back for just a little more for both of their very favorite thing in this universe — his head so upon that most precious place, a sacred spot upon Gwevera where his light had lived inside her all along — the right side of her chest.
When each Judge would first hold their Scribe, burrowing into their breast in that unique way so prescribed for each lifetime — Gwevera, Miriam, Erick, Celine, Daphne, and all others had been most changed — their hearts activated in ways they would be grateful for through the rest of time, allowing them to endure all the time apart which would forge them into these people they were meant to become.
Every version of these souls had seen her love’s own peace in their Arthur, something she’d sought in plain through all of her time, and it would cause them all to transform into a one who would call us home together.
Having found that in herself with such profound abundance beside Morecai Effeancé — Gwevera Nightingale had it best of all — a reward for every moment spent away from her peace throughout the history of time.
It had always been worth it.
Lifetimes were coming back to them both, in that grasp of each other’s most divine hold, seeing things they’d never before of each other’s journeys through this universe, so much at once.
Even something about a ‘much improved gluten-free crunch-wrap supreme’, whatever that was.
It took her all the time she’d left to say it, with such emotion born through simply forming the words, but Gwevera had spoken something proving most resonant to this King and Queen of heaven, for which they’d not need to spend a second thought in wonder of what it might mean or where the name could have come from, its truth registering in their most completely open and loving hearts as she’d spoken those last words of her cherished life.
“My Paddy,” Gwevera called him then, with not slightest idea why.
“We’ll be back here real soon.”
I may have cried myself half-dead this morning.