The Justiceers - Part Six: Chapter Thirteen
the next chapter in my forthcoming novel
The Justiceers
by Daphne Garrido
Part Three: The Will to Choose
Part Four: Prefinished Business
Part Six: Death Rides a Horse
6.13
The Infinity was chilling.
Miriam had set her down, cool as ice, just outside the former limits of Oliath proper.
Adrenaline was fueling her flow. She’d a bounce to her step. That bliss of immolated evil surrounded her. The way she knew of that lost visage of heart’s internal demise felt excellent. This bitch was walking on air.
As far as she was concerned, they could fuck right off, though, she might’ve been overcompensating there a bit. Inside she still cared deeply, but they’d done some truly terrible things which she couldn’t unsee, and there was such relief in the disconnection she’d forged from their energy.
She didn’t know what they were up to out there, and Miriam didn’t care. She’d been begging for that since they’d come to this system with such presence in her awareness.
Her purpose was in front of her now, the path would be swept by spirit, no matter where Miriam chose to walk. While her insight was still of swings to dark and light — for now — she’d stabilized around the truth finally earned by trusting the knowing of her heart, following the path of evidence provided which was simply too great to deny, gracing purest realization of her eternal being, no doubt left in her mind.
Fearless; Miriam Halafax would truly become. Each step now brought her closer to the actualization of that fact, every alchemized trauma she’d dig out of herself a notch towards clearer insight.
Sights of her own darkness would transform her for the positive, lies she’d told to self-uncovered without judgement, every failure accounted for, leading Miriam to do good in The Periphery, forever and without hesitation. Love would be forged by her doings, made through her connections, found in the hearts of all who could stand to stay beside her. While she was here, and once she was beyond.
Love was what she’d been born to help create. At least, after she assisted in dealing with the remnants of evil still lingering in those lost vessels now without a leader. They seemed to wander helplessly.
Grammaton would be with Miriam always, no matter where she went, or who she had by her side. It was her choice, and she’d choose well, taking those who supported her wholeness and nobody else.
She’d forever be blessed with the presence of her own soul, and that of her highest other, their many human manifestations upon this plane all calling to her in the same ways, along with the guardians who’d seen them all this far now taking a backseat quite permanently.
Miriam would forever hold a place in her heart for the one who awoke this awareness to her soulful connection with spirit beyond, along with those who’d help her stay in touch with it.
Ego would be squashed amongst The Periphery with one single and profound wisdom, that which would lead the false belief of individuality to be forsaken; when people came to accept and see that many other replications of their own consciousness were surrounding themselves through all of existence. In wake of this acceptance, the notion of separateness which allowed evil to live would end.
Still, she knew this wouldn’t be easy. It was a hardest thing to accept, having been most difficult for Miriam to face for the longest time, despite how clearly and often her channel had spoken the truth plainly; she wanted to be special, to feel honored for all she knew herself capable which had been unseen by others, always knowing herself as more so clearly.
It’s because she was. As is everyone. That’s why people feel the need to prove how incredible they are, why death feels so wrong. We know in our heart’s that consciousness doesn’t die, and the mind can’t cope with evidence to the contrary. The way people inflict pain upon each other feels so wrong to spirit — causing equal parts of psychic and spiritual pain in the abusers — because every cruelty is a self-inflicted wound.
Miriam wasn’t mercin folks anymore. She knew better. At least, not on purpose, for the most part. You could pretty much say that.
Protected within her bubble-shield — no helmets in sight, not one — Miriam had still been putting some mother fuckers to bed quite abundantly. Gary had shown her this move from Earth, and she liked it, so she’d been ‘dabbing’ on these soldiers of war her modified injection driver were placing ‘sleepy spikes’ so deep inside. She was trying to see how many different places of the body she could snipe these fucks.
Miriam had gotten so many spots already, wounding the demons left behind in their aimless stupor — sleepwalking, threatless targets — she’d had both left and right legs, a left arm, front and back of the torso, so many backs, and even an accidental headshot or three. She hadn’t investigated those close-up.
She couldn’t get a right arm for the death of her though, every time she tried, she’d just plug another one between the shoulder blades, she didn’t understand why this was happening to her.
Eventually, Miriam gave up on this weirdly self-assigned task she’d taken so much pleasure in executing, having reached the base of Learo’s great statue at last. Her hair was gorgeous, because she definitely wasn’t wearing a helmet.
Arthur had told her about this staircase, a bunch of times in fact, he’d seemed so proud of his descent. Miriam blew it off every time, wondering why he kept talking about it. Now that she was on the way down herself, seeing just how far this rabbit hole went, tasting the verticality, breathing in those tightest corners, she’d understood why. This bitch was crazy intense.
The fact he’d done this with The Beast was the wildest thing she’d ever considered, what determination he must have had to ride that craft so meant for straightest movement on the surface down here, she found no surprise it came back so damaged.
Her legs were worn when she’d heard the hum.
Miriam took no time to recognize it here, with that clearest channel she’d only now forged — facing darkest demons of self and others — waking to awareness of all her heart did speak. She’d been hearing this hum her whole life.
Notions of purest loving compassion were confusing in a universe so long lost to the consciousness of heart, kept from allowing it to lead the way, distrusting its tellings because their leading to pain, its people taught to shield themselves from growth which facing it would bring.
She’d felt her before reaching bottom.
Miriam had known the whole time who was waiting down there, at least, in soul. Though, she’d have not believed the story which brought this visage of herself forward through time, her eons survived, nor the power she wielded from her place within the heart of Grammaton.
Seeing it up close, being there in presence at longest last, apart a whole lifetime, experiencing what she’d intuited through premonitory feelings which had surged in force as she’d approached this moment — was not something Miriam had been prepared for, time crashing inward so powerfully, such waves of realization and synchronicity — it had been really weird.
The stonework here was made intentionally with a most fantastic pattern-work, great geometries designed through off-colored stones, clearly centered around this great precipice of light she’d seen so often in dreams.
“Damn.”
That’s all she could muster at the sight of it all. The vibrations coursing through her body in that most special chamber, the hum of Grammaton’s love growing so loud in her heart as confirmation to the rightness of it. She’d felt more at peace than ever before.
The hum shook her body. It bore into her heart. She’d known it would. Miriam wanted it to. A part of her was always aware of what she was getting into, but she’d not be able to help herself, drawn to that special light of soul which called her most deeply to heal beside. A one manifest not only others, but places, planets, nature and all forms of life born within it. They were a part of her.
Miriam loved this shit, fighting for healing, and she was finally done letting it hurt her. She was a lover, especially of this bad mother-fucker of a soul she knew had a big place in her Arthur. She’d understood their presence most abundantly in that chamber, and it felt like nothing if not home.
Heart was pounding before it happened, the whole way there in fact, and especially the wait once she’d arrived. To see Miriam Lightfoot emerge at last, this visage tied most deeply to her heart, so torn through time, on a most strangely unique journey of her own, it brought a sense of wholeness.
Miriam Lightfoot had spent much time here beneath the surface, dwelling with the hardest truths of this civilization’s failures, seeing the worst of what it brought out of people, knowing the path forward would be of healing reconciliation regardless, and finding it within herself to forge that forgiveness for us all.
There was then an embrace between the two, a most healing touch.
The vibrations of this reconciliation would be felt through all of time.
