Shekinah Dove.jpg

“My standard has never changed, Shekinah. My standard of beauty is you.” 

The following preview is of Chapter XIII of INNER MAGNETS, Volume Two of our quantum fiction/magic realism quartet, THE TAMMABUKKU CHRONICLES. The photo above is the title of this chapter, “Shekinah”, a word meaning the light between heaven and earth, and it is the female protagonist, Lia’s middle name as well as her pet name from her beloved, the male protagonist, David. This, chapter, set in Lia’s POV, is the first chapter of the quartet to go out of David’s POV, the first of the multiple POV’s introduced as it goes on.

Link to the first two books:

The period between Good Friday and Easter was always a time of reflection for Lia, but this year the symbolism of the season resonated like never before.

At age ten, she began incorporating her Christian beliefs into her celebration of Ostara with her Wiccan parents, who had encouraged her to follow her inner leadings. Recalling the malevolent spirits with whom she kept company as a small child, and the intense temptation to use her power for evil, Lia gave profuse thanks to her parents, as well as the unseen forces guiding her, for their dogged, yet unobtrusive perseverance. They’d been there for her to draw upon, but the choice between good and evil must come from within, and there were times in early childhood that the right path had seemed bitter and repulsed her. At the time the details were murky, but she remembered walking that road in trust, and its terminus was a pool of blood and agonized screams. The wounded voice in her angry little head shouted that the forces of good betrayed her, thus, making the other path more alluring.

Since toddlerhood, her powers had been undeniable, and her abilities beyond those in the circles of even her high-level Wiccan mothers. Lamagir had known that his best chance of bringing her back to the fold was to link their minds while she was still a little girl. Hence, Beletum disguised herself as a compassionate young woman, when in fact she was a dark wicked force.

Lia recalled the fury that she’d felt as a small child, which no one, least of all herself, understood. Of course, her dark mother understood everything. The horrible pain she’d tap into demanded punishment, and her dark mother assured her those responsible would be punished. Until the unwavering love of her parents brought the sinister side of her power under control, her formidable powers made her a loose cannon, thus, dangerous to anyone who even looked at her the wrong way. At the time, she had no idea who it was that she abhorred so much, and later when she learned the story of how her previous incarnation ended, she knew one thing for sure: it wasn’t Nathaniel Ley. Her beloved father fell victim to his demons and caused her death as Cecilia, but she found forgiveness easy because of the depth of her love for him, which began long before he was Nathaniel Ley. It wasn’t until after the regression that she understood it was Lamagir whom all her rage was directed towards. She realized with revulsion that she was aligning her own power with Lamagir and Beletum to unleash the mayhem she created. Lamagir was nothing if not brilliant, and his touch could be so light that it was often impossible to discern. Perhaps she had to be taken in once more by his ingenious lies, if only for a short time, in order to understand what had taken root in her father’s mind. Lamagir. He creates the disease for which he is the only cure. How inviting it was to believe such a deception when you felt like the oddest child on the planet.

Steadfast love continued to pour down on her from this world and other worlds, and at last light entered her mind. Lamagir’s deceit crumbled under the luminosity of pure truth and, at last, she could hear the leadings of her parents and spiritual guides. And then there was the boy. No longer was he a distorted and veiled agony that she couldn’t comprehend—a torment her immature psyche couldn’t bear—he was the love that was her destiny. She’d managed to project herself to him once when they were small and heard his voice. They’d spoken mind to mind. He recognized her, and he was real. Sometimes she’d glimpse fragments of a sacred place that was theirs, and of images that seemed like memories. A snowy night, the sound of bells, a horse-drawn carriage… Playing, laughing, running, kissing in the woods… A tree with white flowers… Majestic old manor houses… In her dreams, she’d watch him from a distance. His face remained obscured, but upon her regression, she gained clarity. He was alive and he was also looking for her. They were meant to be together and it was part of a bigger picture.

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