Despite this storyline taking place mostly in Shepperton off the Thames, United Kingdom, it is entirely written in Moss Park, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Shepperton is close to my heart in ideas rather than kilometers.
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I am Brian Joseph Johns and this is Shhhh! Digital Media at https://www.shhhhdigital.com or https://www.shhhhdigital.ca in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at 200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701.
[Spellbound - Siouxie And The Banshees]
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Chapters
- Virtuoso's Instrument Of Choice (Finished April 29, 2026)
- They Came Calling (Finished April 30, 2026)
- When Aerth Doth Call (Finished May 2, 2026)
- Shadows In The Day (Finished May 6, 2026)
- To Change The World, Begin With Thyself (Finished May 7, 2026)
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I'd like to point out that it was the incredible Gary Sinese Foundation that brought the issue of Veteran's rights to my attention. I've always had little respect for those who'd forget the great contribution made by those who've risked life and limb to defend those values that so many of us espouse. Perhaps the true measure of one's principles are by that for which they'd risk their life.
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Because Barris told me to put it here. If I didn't, he said he'd walk. Geez. Stardom really gets to some people's heads. Maybe I could kill him and bury his heart beneath the floor boards! Or I could encase him in behind a brick and mortar wall, for shaming my family name of Amantillado!
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Shhhh! Digital Media
Brian Joseph Johns
Shhhh! Digital Media Presents:
Tales of the Sanctum: Era of the Spellbound - Episode 9: The Tarot Be Joined
by Brian Joseph Johns
Virtuoso's Instrument Of Choice
Susan Gardener's car pulled up to the curb where Neville was already waiting, holding a slice of half eaten pizza in a paper tray. He reached for the door handle and opened it and sat in the passenger's seat and looked over to Susan, who at this moment happened to be Mianamor Selembrosi.
"You didn't happen to get one for me, did you?" she asked him, looking over to him seductively.
He rolled his eyes before he spoke.
"Miss, you should have called me and said you were hungry," he quickly deflected his clear inability to think about anyone but himself.
"That's alright. You can eat that. I'm going to a drive through, and then we're going to our favourite park to have a little talk," she responded, pulling her car out into the late morning Shepperton traffic.
"What kind of a talk?" asked Neville, his mouth full as he chewed his pizza.
"Lets just say that its high time you started to learn about certain things in life. Things that will help you find your place amongst your peers in this new Sanctum that you're creating. I mean, it must be hard for a boy like yourself to accept the fact that you're one of two men who are part of a coven, and that the very nature of the weave doesn't seem to favour men as much as it does the women," she wove her words carefully.
"I can learn it! What, are you saying I'm not smart enough?" Neville asked her, sounding slightly offended.
"No. Not at all. Any more than I see you at some point in the future feeding a baby from your breast," she responded deftly.
He sat breathing heavily as he chewed his pizza, waiting until he'd chewed it all and swallowed it before he spoke again.
"We're not feeding babies! We're learning the art of... how to bend things in the world into what we want!" Neville responded, lowering his voice slightly as it to assert himself as a male.
Miana turned into the driveway of a drive-thru restaurant and pulled up to the intercom.
"May I take your order?" a voice emerged from the intercom.
"Yes, I'll have a large chicken salad, a side of fries and an orange juice please," Miana ordered for herself.
"Get me a large soda? Uhhhh... lemon-lime?" Neville asked her just before she pulled away from the intercom.
"Mister, you should have told me you were thirsty and I would have ordered for you," she said to him sarcastically with a smirk on her face.
Neville opened his mouth, revealing the chewed pizza to her.
"You're disgusting! You know that?" she said to him as he laughed.
"That's exactly what Nelony says to me..." he smiled as he spoke, still chewing the last of his pizza.
"Miss? Could I also have a large lemon-lime soda?" Miana asked the girl on the intercom.
"That's one large chicken salad, a side of fries, an orange juice and a lemon-lime soda. How would you like to pay?" the girl on the intercom asked her.
"Credit please," Miana responded.
"Thank you for your order. Pull up to the pick-up window if you could please," the girl on the intercom requested.
Miana drove Susan's car to the pick-up window and paid for her order. Shortly thereafter, the man working the pick-up handed her a bag of food and a tray for their drinks.
"Thank you," Miana waved as she pulled the car into a parking space, and got out with the bag of food, and walked around to the passenger side to where Neville was seated.
She tapped on Neville's window and he opened the door.
"What?" he asked her.
"Get in the driver's seat. I'm going to snack on my fries, and you're going to drive," she said to him.
"But I don't have a permit yet..." he responded to her.
"Yes you do. You left it at home," she said to him as he sat in the seat.
"I just said I left it... ohhhh. That permit. Your right. I left it on my dresser," he smiled and stood, getting out of the car and walking around to the other side and getting in through the driver's door.
"You've driven before, right?" she asked him.
"Yeah. A little bit..." he responded.
"Alright, lets see. Get us to the parking lot just outside of the park," she ordered him.
He backed the car up, turning it slightly as he did until he lined up with the exit driveway. He then put the car in forward and pulled out of the driveway and out onto the road as Miana put his drink in the driver's side holder.
"You're tense," she said to him.
"No I'm not! You're tense!" he responded tensely, as he gripped the steering wheel, revealing his white knuckles.
"Just relax, and get us there safely. Pay attention, and follow the rules. We're at a disadvantage with you not having your permit on you, so you shouldn't try anything too risky. If you had your permit, I might encourage you to break the rules, because rules were made to be broken," Miana advised him, waiting until she'd finished her statement before eating another fry.
"No they're not. If we break the rules, we end up in jail," Neville exclaimed, suddenly very wary that he might be driving too fast or miss a sign or not stop correctly at a traffic light.
"That we do. I've been there before myself," she revealed to him.
"For how long?" he asked her.
"Three years," she responded.
"What did you do?" he asked her, almost ready to panic as he drove.
"I tried to assassinate a programmer working on a Quantum based AI system. She was a woman in her thirties, just like me. Beautiful. Ambitious and intelligent. But in choosing that line of work, she didn't know that she'd made powerful and very secretive enemies. So they hired me to snuff her life out and make her disappear," Miana explained to Neville, doing nothing to alleviate his growing tension.
"You're an assassin?!!!" Neville panicked.
"I was at one time. I'm a reformed assassin," she responded.
"How were you caught?!!!" Neville asked her, taking great care in doing a shoulder check as he changed lanes.
"By Shaela," she responded to him with a smile.
"You mean our Shaela?!!!" he asked her, now on the edge of anxiety.
"No. The other Shaela. The one I told you and your friends about. After a trial, they sentenced me to hundred years in the Sanctum Seclorum holding facility. After three years, I escaped shortly before the catastrophe that ended their world. Me and Gallea," Miana revealed to Neville.
"So, these people that hired you, were they the Nortmans?" he asked her.
"You meant Norbids. No. They were something very different. You'll soon learn that this world isn't made up of or governed by any one all powerful body of people. Its in a constant state of flux between many groups, who are all vying for the reigns to the world. The Norbids are one, and this other group, Oculo Mentis, was another. There are many more throughout the world, and in every level of society and with different levels of awareness about each other," Miana explained to Neville, who'd calmed ever so slightly.
"Why are you even telling me this?" Neville asked her as he pulled up to a traffic light.
"Because, you need to know these things if you're going have a part in it," Miana explained to him, popping another fry in her mouth.
Neville turned the corner and quickly made his way over to the left side of the road, and pulled into the driveway of the parking lot and parked her car.
"Excellent job, I do say so myself. You kept yourself together well, even when I was pressuring you with that recollection from my past," she accepted the keys from Neville and got out of the car. Once there were both out and the doors were closed, she engaged the alarm and accompanied Neville over to the only free picnic bench in the crowded park.
"So, you've killed people before?" Neville asked her cautiously.
"Yes. More than a few. Made them disappear in the worst possible way," she admitted to him openly, freely assuming that he was ready to know.
"Doesn't that bother you? I mean, knowing that there are people... dead... and disappeared because of you?" he asked her, his face in a state of shock.
"No. I was made that way. Not born that way. I suppose if things would have happened differently for me when I was taken to become a Disciple of the Shadows..." Miana was cutoff by Neville.
"Don't you mean the uhhhh let me think. Oh! The Order of the Night Wytch?" Neville confirmed with her.
"No. That came later. When I was tasked by the Disciples of the Shadows to infiltrate the Sanctum Seclorum. You see, Shaela and I, we have a unique connection to the Shadow weave. We are prodigies, though the Disciples of the Shadows and Order of the Night Wytch each have a very different moral compass from one another. The way I saw it was that we were like the two sides of darkness. The side you hope there is, and the side you hope there isn't," Miana spread the contents of her lunch bag before her on the table as they sat in a part of the park away from most of the crowd.
"So is this a part of what you're teaching me? Today's lesson. The one you told me you were going to show me when we got to the park?" Neville asked her, his expression changing to one of enthusiasm.
She shook her head in disgust over the fact he'd scalded her over her past, and was now behaving like an eager puppy dog, waiting for the next treat. A sentiment that entirely missed his notice.
She then looked around the park, and spied a man seated on a bench all by his lonesome. He was a man in his late forties. A bit hefty around the waist, and thinning of hair, but a very friendly bespectacled pale face. He adjusted his glasses as he read the news on his phone, pausing to take a sip of his tea.
"You see that man over there?" Miana pointed him out to Neville.
"The bald guy in the glasses?" he confirmed with her.
"He's got a bit of hair, but most of that is clinging for dear life. He's been a... project of mine, you could say," Miana opened her salad, grabbed her fork and began skewering bits and pieces of it and popping them into her mouth.
"What? You mean like me?" Neville asked her, both checking out her chicken salad, and her cleavage at the same time.
"No. A very different project, and yet one whose crescendo has come to arrive on this very day. You see, he's running for office, and he plans to put our staff, at the school board, out of work, and replace each and every one of us with a rather right wing lot. One that leans more towards Norbid ideas..." Miana spoke only when she'd had no food in her mouth. She then quickly took more on her fork and put it into her mouth, chewing quickly before speaking again.
"Politics is a dirty game, especially when there's tension or political war between two parties as there is in my case, or should I say Susan's. Now seeing as Susan is my well being, I can't allow her to lose her employment, for she'd spend months finding a new job and likely at a much lesser salary, so I've opted to assist her party with these issues, and before you judge me, keep in mind that the Norbids play the same game on their side of the political sphere. They too have some form of dirty trick up their sleeve, so you could say that my intervention is necessary, but perhaps slightly uncouth," Miana put her fork on the table and looked in the direction of a group of youths who were kicking a football around in the field behind the bench the man was seated upon.
"You see those youths there? The ones of colour, kicking the ball around?" Miana asked Neville.
"Yeah. They're not hurting anyone..." Neville responded uncomfortably.
"Not currently, but they have been. You see, they don't want him in office either, but for much different reasons than those of our party. Some of them have friends, who how could you say, rely on the harm reduction services that are hosted at various sites closer to the downtown core of London, on out of the way streets. He plans to close them all, in the hope that he'll earn the vote of London area small and big business, whose finances are sometimes affected by issues arising from those in need of harm reduction services congregating near such businesses, and even occasionally committing theft or other crimes against those businesses. So these youths, and others have taken to giving that man over there, a very difficult time, which is in essence a pressure cooker," Miana took her time and laid the issue very carefully before Neville.
"So what's the point? Why are you telling me this?" he asked her.
"They're the aggressors. He didn't say anything to them to instigate a war or conflict, and yet they've been conducting a very secretive war against him, of almost constant harassment around the clock. There are few who are aware of this war, except for those conducting it, and him, and yet all the pressure is upon him not to react to the wiles of his assailants. Your lesson is, that you're going to see how the world often secretly works. How these youths, and the others assisting them in wreaking havoc upon his life, will not likely lead to anything bad for them. In fact, it will completely ruin that man, and it will completely benefit those youths. The funny thing about this is, that those youths and everyone participating in it, they know that already, because they've done it before and to many others," Miana explained to him.
"So they're like one of those groups vying for the power of the world?" Neville asked her skeptically.
"At this scale yes, but shortly, you're going to see how that plays out in the scheme of things... and how secretly harming others can actually benefit the people who do so, while destroying the ones they do it to," Miana revealed to Neville.
The youths suddenly stopped playing ball, one of them picking it up and throwing it as hard as he could from behind at the man seated on the bench. The ball flew through the air and hit the man in the back of the head, sending his glasses flying as the rest of the youths laughed.
"Sorry sir, it was an accident..." the one who threw the ball did his best to stifle his laughter.
What happened next was like watching day turn instantly to night. The man stood up from the bench, and walked over to the youths, furiously so and to the extent that Neville imagined seeing froth flying from his mouth, like an animal suddenly stricken with rabies.
"You damned kids! You and your people have always been a big problem for this city, and I'm going to change that!!! I'm going to make you pay for how you treat this city and its people! Your people aren't going to get away with this!!! I'm going to hire more Bobbies than you can deal with, and put your little asses in jail, every single last one of you!!!" he screamed at them at the top of his lungs, like a man who'd just reached his limit.
Neville watched in amazement as the scene unfolded, while Miana casually ate her chicken salad.
"That's been building up pressure for some time. About six months, of their around the clock abuse of him, but they do it so secretly that he has little or no legal recourse. And so the pressure builds and builds and builds and then one day KABOOM! It all comes out in one giant eruption... but this is only the beginning. Like the earthquake that happens at sea, that's not the real danger. Its the Tsunami afterwards," Miana explained to Neville and then she returned to eating her salad, barely paying attention to the scene.
The man was ranting like a maniac, getting in the faces of the youths and his words left his mouth like an exclaimed vitriol, that had been fueled by their months of day and night hate pollution directed towards his life.
Others in the park now took notice, and began gathering where the man was confronting the youths. One of them, upon seeing the older man confronting these men in their late teens and early twenties became upset himself.
"Leave them alone! Can't you see they were just playing!" he yelled at the man.
The rest of the crowd began to join in, and started yelling at the man to leave the youths alone, which encouraged them further to intimidate the man.
He turned and yelled at the rest of the crowd, and then back to the same youths, and specifically to the one who'd thrown the ball at his head.
"You're a disgrace to this city, and to this country! You and your people!!!" he pointed with his index finger as if it were a blade, attempting to pierce the younger man's chest.
"My people? So this is about my people?!!!" with that the younger man wound off and struck the man in the face with his fist, and when the man had fallen to the grass, he fell on the man and began punching him furiously.
The crowd gathered around the man, and watched as the younger man hit the older man a few more times, before getting up and fixing his shirt on his body.
The crowd then began cheering for the younger man, who smiled and raised his arms above his head, like the boxer who'd just won the match.
None of them paid any attention to the badly bludgeoned man on the grass. Instead they praised the man who'd just bludgeoned him.
Their phones had of course caught every second of the rant and altercation that arose after, and the cheers continued from everyone, of every colour. Their phones however didn't catch any of the months of harassment the man had experienced before that moment, that had become the fuel for his rant.
"And that, is the way of things Neville. That man who just bludgeoned the older one, his life and career is set already. He'll live a life of luxury and success because everyone sees him as the victim, when in truth, he and his other friends were the perpetrators. Most of the others, who don't share his culture, they're embarrassed and will do anything they can to dissociate themselves from the man bleeding on the grass. They won't want to be associated with his racial rant, so they'll go the exact opposite extreme, and stand up for the younger man who assaulted him. By the time the footage from the phones makes it to the news, the older man's career will be permanently over, due to the public backlash against him and the party he's with. It will for a time, reinvigorate a racial movement in support of that younger man's culture, and most who take part in it will be those not of his culture, who bear racial guilt of their own and are doing their best to distance themselves from it, and to ensure that everyone thinks they're not of the same ilk as the man bleeding on the grass. You see, how this situation will become a vehicle that changes the very face of this city, and maybe even if the news gets that far, the world. Don't you see the irony in it? He was the victim, and look at how it all unfolded. If we were standing, and I was to push you, your natural instinct would be to resist, which means you'd excerpt a roughly equal force in the opposite direction. The harder I push, the harder you resist in the opposite direction. Then, I step aside, and you fall over into the extreme of the opposite direction I was pushing you. That is exactly what they did to him, but the world will never know. They will only know that the older man was a ranting racist, and the younger man was the victim. Now, all of Susan's problems are solved, and I can continue my existence inside of her body," Miana took a moment to illustrate her point in words, as Neville listened to them carefully, gaining some insight into the way of the world in the process.
"When you were driving, and I suggested that we could break the law to get here a little faster? You instantly reacted by clinging to the law, and that was my intent, to ensure we both got here in one piece so we could see this lesson of the global classroom. Now do you understand?" Miana asked him, pushing her cardboard container of fries in his direction to offer him the remainder.
"You really know stuff, don't you?" he responded in his usual Neville-like manner.
"My friend, I'm a virtuoso," Miana replied, and then remained silent as she finished her chicken salad.
They Came Calling
Mila lay on one side of her bed, looking into the eyes of a man she did not know, and yet a man with whom she was familiar, as the early morning sun crested the distant trees on the other side of the artificial lake upon which her property resided.
He as much so stared back at her, and his right hand moved slowly towards hers, until there was the slightest touch. He then slowly proceeded rub her wrist inner forward, moving it down her arm towards her wrist, until he found her palm, maintaining his gentle touch.
She moved closer to him, as did her to her and until their lips were nearly touching and then...
The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, startling her from her waking dream. She sat up in her bed and looked at the time on her night table clock.
"Who could that be...?" she asked herself, slowly sliding over to the side of her queen sized bed where her slippers waited for her on the floor.
She stepped out of bed completely naked, except for her slippers and walked over to the rack, just beside her night table and grabbed her silk kimono (one without the obi). She wrapped it around herself and carefully tied the silk belt in a flowery looking knot. Wiping her eyes, she made her way to the stairs and descended them, fixing her hair with her hands as she made her way to the front hall foyer. She checked the security camera feed nearest to her, and saw two men, dressed in trench coats and wearing ties, waiting outside of her front door.
She smirked, trying to figure out who they might be, and then decided to open the door and engage them in order to find out.
"Hi. Miss... Renebel? I hope we're not catching you at an inconvenient time?" the first one asked her, a man in his late twenties of Caribbean or possibly Latin American descent, with a seemingly genuine smile.
"No. Not at all. I was just getting up. If you're here about my life insurance policy, or about insuring my home, I've already got comprehensive coverage..." she replied, withholding information to which they were not privileged.
"Where are you from, Melo? If you don't mind me asking?" the first man continued his line of questioning, not realizing that as much as they'd had her last name wrong, they'd also mistaken her first.
"I'm a devoted Canadian and former resident of Canada..." Mila paused as she thought about her words.
"I moved here... to Shepperton, London by the Thames, from Canada. After a difficult time... to attend school and to find a renewed inspiration in my life and art, but I am also Japanese, and I long for truest expression of my art and life, in ways with which many obsessive artists can likely relate," Mila responded, still very curious about who these men were.
"No. We're not here about your insurance Melo. We're here hoping to help you protect something far more valuable. Your eternal soul, and from damnation for turning your back upon our saviour," the other man, who was very obviously of local descent, spoke confidently and in such a way so as to sound as if he'd stated this well rehearsed conditional response a seemingly incalculable amount of times.
"And your saviour is... the city's garbage collection staff?" she responded, suddenly feeling that her boundaries might have somehow, in some unseen way, been violated. Enough so that she protectively sought to reiterate.
The two men looked at each other in confusion, exchanging some kind of silent communication. A secretive emote indicating pity of her.
"Miss, did you know that Satan and Lucifer find their ways into the lives of many people through common symbols that occur every day and in countless ways, from television and streaming services. From candy, comic books and movies. From lustful thoughts and pornography. They have many agents, whose sole purpose is to delude and misguide those who have not found the truth in the apostacy of our saviour's Church," the first man looked to her, speaking almost like a Doctor, or even more so like a Gynacologist, as if he were a man already in possession of her deepest secrets.
"What sort of symbols are you talking about...?" she asked them in complete shock of their words, for she'd never encountered anything like their solicitation in her life.
"Inverted crucifixes. Goats heads, especially those laying claim to the origin of the words: 'as above, so below', a parable found in many religious texts. I'm certain this next one is one with which you're very familiar, for it shows up in many places. On foot balls [Author's note: meaning soccer balls as they're called in North America]. On Buckminster Fuller's geodesic architecture. Even in hidden basement rooms where those who've been led astray of the great works of the apostacy conduct their rites around pentagrams and burning candles... perhaps calling forth the denizens of the realms of Satan and Lucifer...?" he purposely accented the last part of his solicitation, as if he were attempting to rouse something from inside of her. Something which he seemed to believe wrongly inhabited her and made her less herself, despite the fact that he did not know one thing about her or her life at all, except that which he'd researched before this Church ordered solicitation.
"So you're telling me that the West Ham United FC Women's football team are Satan worshippers? That's quite a revelation. Perhaps you should be soliciting fans of their club, rather than trying to get at the financial fortune of women who believe in the autonomous right of belief for all, even when that belief is non-belief or any belief at all. If you do however choose to solicit them, as a concern for human beings and for the welfare of others, I'd suggest you bring and adorn yourselves in some kind of body armour first. I hear that London takes its football very seriously, as seriously as Canada takes its hockey, and probably as much so as their right to their own autonomous beliefs. Something that unites the French with the rest of Canada, as much so as it unites Shepperton, with the rest of the United Kingdom. Thank you for your concern, but I believe that you've knocked on the wrong door. Please exit my property or I will have you escorted from it by local security, all of whom are United FC Women's fans," Mila responded, perhaps ever so slightly offended that they'd mentioned the pentagram, for the first place her mind wandered was to her room in the basement, and the pentagram on its floor, where the Sanctum Seclorum was finding its roots.
She then politely closed the door in their collective faces and enjoyed a smile all to herself, until she realized through the murmurs of her weave connected mind that they were indicating something to her. Wielding one of her secrets, as a form of power over her.
"Pentagram... our Sanctum Seclorum protective measures? How would they even know about that, or what such a symbol means? I mean it has no context at in the direction towards which they're alluding. They've given their own names to their enemies, and indicating their own descriptions thereof, and trying to get everyone else to opt into their ideas," she speculated, pacing the front hall several times, between her kitchen and living room before stopping halfway in realization of what had occurred.
She paced a few more times, wondering who she should call. She thought about Shaela. Very confident. Fearless. Bold where one needed it, and as much so in anyone's face as her red hair. Her seeming ability to handle everything one threw at her. She was almost invincible, though she'd often played herself for her weaknesses. Yet, she of all of them possessed a natural understanding of the darker side of the nature of life. She thrived upon it and delved into it without any recoil or fear of it.
Then she thought about Shaela's shadow side. Her occasional obsession with negative things, sometimes thriving on it as if it were feeding her darkness. Her propensity for growing it into apparitions of her understanding of the way of things, and using that understanding to feed other people's fears.
"No. I can't call Shaela about this. At least not yet," Mila said aloud to herself.
She then thought about Nelony, with a pretty face and smile, and a heart warming love of all creatures great and small [Author's note: Take your pick - 2020 or 1978]. And a head full of hair that shone like sunshine. Then she thought about how far from such ideas in relation to religious zeal that Nelony was, for Nelony's parents were the offspring of hippies/yuppies. Those who'd originally grown up in the era of peace, love and of course hippy beads. They were as far removed from religious zeal as was Shaela's obsession with the conspiracies surrounding it.
She thought of Neville. His seeming intuitive understanding of the way of social customs, even when they literally drove others bonkers. He thrived in situations where there seemed to be unfamiliarity, though without danger, for in the face thereof, he'd rarely put himself in any imposition to protect others. However, his wit and obnoxious charm often solved conflict long before it escalated towards there as much. However, his ideological positions were... unclear, and perhaps not supportive of those Mila sought for others and herself.
And at that moment, she thought about Wes, and she felt her heart flutter ever so slightly, but just enough to let her know that she'd found the one member of their circle with whom she needed to confer about this crisis. The crisis of the fact that a trusted technician of the trades had violated the sanctity of her home, and her instructions, by venturing into rooms she'd indicated as being off limits.
She quickly made her way upstairs and to her night table, where she found her phone. She sat on the bed and found his speed dial, and called him. When he didn't answer, she messaged him several times (almost obsessively) about how they needed to talk. Immediately.
As if fate was not somehow intervening on its own, there came a direct call from Nelony shortly thereafter.
When Aerth Doth Call
Nelony had just finished cleaning the dog's beds at the Animal Shelter. After having done so, she went to the bathroom and cleaned herself up, putting her biodegradable gloves in the organic waste bin.
"There's nothing quite like having clean and happy puppies," she said to herself as she stepped out of the bathroom and made her way to the front offices.
She passed the room for cats on the way, and paused, looking through the window and into their daytime area where most of them were now perched.
"Don't despair my kitties. You're next," she smiled and waved at them, a few of them taking the time to notice her, though none of them moved otherwise.
When she got to the front, she saw Ethel, who was going through her emails on the front desk's computer.
"Oh dear. Now this is something of concern," she said as Nelony approached.
"Nothing too serious I hope?" Nelony asked her, a look of concern on her face.
"There's a been an oil spill. A small one thankfully, but its still enough to be devastating," Ethel told her.
"Where if you don't mind my asking?" Nelony asked of her.
"Just off of Westgate Bay, where its washing ashore," Ethel responded, she too now very concerned about the situation.
"How big? How much oil?" Nelony continued, walking over to the other side of the counter to speak directly with Ethel.
"It says here that its estimated to be about two barrels, which is about seventy imperial gallons. That's about three hundred and twenty liters. There's a crew on the way to clean it up. Would you be interested in helping clean birds and other wildlife as part of the rescue operation?" Ethel asked Nelony.
"Absolutely. When are we going?" Nelony asked her.
"We'll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning. As early as you can make it here. Better yet, you could stay with my husband and I for the night, and we could leave much earlier and directly from here. We'll be meeting up with representatives and volunteers of the Environmental Agency. If we get at it early, we could really save a lot of birds and other wildlife," Ethel explained to Nelony.
"Sure. We could do that. I'll need to stop at a store when we leave and pick-up some basic amenities I need for an overnight," Nelony told Ethel, gesturing to her armpits to indicate that she'd need to clean up.
"Alright. When we're finished for the day, we'll stop and get you fixed up. I should let you know that I'm very grateful for your help here, and taking part in this rescue operation is something that I regard highly. We can really make a difference," Ethel said to her, with a hint of optimism.
"I just finished cleaning the dog area. I'm doing the cats and the birds next, but first I'm going to take a short break," Nelony informed Ethel.
"Alright. We'll see you when you get back," Ethel smiled and immediately turn to her phone to call her volunteers and enlist their help in the rescue operation.
Nelony went to the back door and stepped out into the late morning sun, making her way to the picnic bench situated in the back parking lot and pulled out her phone and dialed a number.
"Nelony? How are you?" Mila answered her call.
"I'm well and so are my fur babies, but we've got a situation that might harm a lot of our feathered friends. Its something related to the reason that I called you," Nelony told Mila as she faced the luscious field between the Animal Shelter and the local rural housing.
"What's wrong?" asked Mila, trying to put her other issue to the back of her mind.
"There's been an oil spill. Its a small one thankfully, but enough to have a serious environmental impact. Especially upon the local wildlife. Possibly even further if it isn't contained quickly," Nelony told Mila, who sighed on the other end of the phone.
"That's horrible. Is there anything that I can do to help?" asked Mila.
"I'd ask you to help take part in the clean-up operation, but I don't think it would be something that you should be doing. We received an email from the Environmental Agency, requesting volunteers for the clean-up. Its mostly cleaning birds, fish, and possibly crustaceans and trying to ensure they're moved up current to a safer location away from the spill. There are other ways to help though," Nelony explained the situation and then hinted at a suggestion.
"Like?" Mila asked her.
"Would you be interested in... practicing your craft against this disaster. You said at our last meeting that you've made a lot of progress in your ability to alter and shape your surroundings. Do you think that you could do it at that level?" Nelony asked her in a stealthy manner.
"Is it a big one?" asked Mila of Nelony.
"Small on the scale of previous spills, but still big enough to be taxing upon your abilities," Nelony warned Mila of the scale involved.
"Are you going to be trying to use your abilities?" asked Mila of her.
"In every way possible, though without revealing myself to others. There's probably going to be a lot of volunteers there, so I'll have to be discrete. If you're going to try this for yourself, you'll likely have to as well," Nelony had clearly given a lot of thought to the matter.
"This sort of thing sounds like the kind of thing that Miana's Sanctum would have tried to task people towards. Maybe we should start trying to live up to that standard, if its not too early. I mean we're only barely scratching the surface of our potential. We have to be mindful and pace ourselves as well," Mila considered the implications of attempting such a challenging task, weighing it against the risks it posed to the local wildlife and the environment.
"I also wanted to suggest that we establish an Order in our Sanctum Seclorum. One that is dedicated to the environment. To wildlife, and to the Earth. I want to be the master of that Order, and have full control over developing it myself. Do you think that you could make room for an addition like that to our plan?" Nelony asked Mila, having gained an unfamiliar new sense of confidence. One that Mila admired and respected of her very much.
"I don't see why not. I think having such an Order in our Sanctum would meet one of the biggest goals of our mandate. To protect our world and to nurture it where we are able. I certainly can't think of a better person to create such an Order than you. I still recall the first time I saw you having a friendly conversation with a bird, and thinking to myself: is this girl imagining this, or is she really speaking to that bird? You've proven yourself to be a truly remarkable woman, and I support you entirely in that endeavor, though we should discuss this with the others and get a consensus, though you are going to do this regardless of if there's any disagreements about it. I'll see to that," Mila assured her friend, feeling very fortunate and proud.
"Thank you Mila. That really means a lot to me, but you're right. I'm going to do this, with or without consensus. I don't think that Neville is going to like this though. Our relationship is already very time constrained, never mind me digging myself into another project on that scale. I would ask him to help me on it, but I don't think his heart is in that sort of thing the way it needs to be in order to make such a commitment. I guess I'll have to see how that goes," Nelony pondered into her phone and possibly with one of the only friends with whom she could speak about such personal matters, with Shaela being the only other exception.
"What time will you be back in Shepperton?" asked Mila of her.
"I won't. I'm staying overnight at the home of the Animal Shelter Manager. We're leaving direct from her home tomorrow morning. Early. Very early I'd imagine, if we're going to be traveling to Westgate Bay from here. The origin of the spill is about a kilometer offshore, and its drifting into the shore as we speak, in case you decide that you're up for the challenge. Thank you Mila. I really needed to talk about this. My break is over so I've got to let you go. Thanks again, sweetie," Nelony responded, a weight off of her shoulders and a direction for her path before her.
"Thank you for letting me know about this. I'll do what I can, but I won't make any promises. We'll see you when you get back to Shepperton," Mila bid her farewell and hung up the phone.
Mila spent a moment, feeling a tinge of guilt for obsessing over the issue that her privacy, their privacy with regard to the New Sanctum Seclorum might have so heinously violated, when there were bigger issues in the world that needed their help, when she was suddenly startled back from the world of thought by the ringing of her phone, which lay in front of her on her kitchen island countertop.
She read the front face of the phone for the caller name, and quickly picked it up when she saw that it was Wes.
"Hello?" she answered as if she had no idea who was calling her.
"Mila? Its Wes. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time?" he asked her.
"No. Not at all. So you got my message?" she asked him.
"And I called you as soon as I did. Is everything alright?" he asked her out of a protective concern for her.
"Yes, in terms of the bigger picture, and no. I need to speak with you about something, but we can't do it over the phone. Would you be up for going for a tea?" she asked him.
"Sure. I'd like that actually. A lot. But if we have to talk in person, doesn't that put us in the vicinity of other people?" Wes confirmed with her.
"Well, to be honest with you, I suggested it because its a good excuse for me to come get you in my mini-van. We could get one of those fancy teas from that artsy cafe that just opened around the corner from you. X-otica. And then I we could bring it back here and have a talk. About something important. Very important on the scale of us, but maybe no so much in the scale of say... the world," Mila chose her words carefully.
"I'm ready when you are, but I could just pick-up the tea myself and bring them over with me, though they might be kind of cold. Its a bit of a bus ride from here," Wes offered.
"No. I think I need to get outside. I'd enjoy the drive. Really," she responded.
"I'm ready when you are. Just give me a call or text when you're close and I'll be waiting for you," Wes responded.
There was an awkward moment of silence between them, and both of them, simultaneously felt the tingling of their heart. The excitement of the unresolved tension between them. Mila savoured it, not daring to speak until it had subsided, though when it did, it had not subsided. It had only grown that much more.
"I'll see you soon," Mila finally broke their mutual silence and then hung up.
Shadows In The Day
Shaela had just finished painting her face, gracing her lips with her favourite red lipstick, atop a a pale foundation of white. Her elaborate eye liner extended from the bottom of her eyes into patterns near the corners. It was ominous. It was ancient. It was her war paint, for today she was the predator, and they were her prey.
After putting her makeup back into the vestibules of her vanity, she referred to the notes she'd taken from Mila's and Nelony's investigation into the Norbid activity affecting the lives of James Benley (the homeless man) and Jorge Stockard (the multi-millionaire and soon to be billionaire).
One of her cats suddenly jumped up and onto her vanity, looking at her. It then sat before her, looking away as if disinterested.
"Oh that is so typical, my little kitty. Well you're staying in our nice and cozy home while I go out and hunt," she stroked the cat's chin, and only then did the cat look to her again, perhaps smiling, or perhaps saying to her with its eyes, pet me and piss off.
She stood from her vanity and stepped over to her wardrobe, within which her favourite dresses were line up on hangars. She picked the one with black lace shoulders, whose skirt went nearly to her feet and adorned it and then checked herself in the mirror.
"Definitely an approved huntress of the night, caught in the day," she said to herself.
She then stepped over to the stairs and descended, walking the front hall and passing the shrine room to her deceased father, where she looked in and at his photo.
He looked back to her from across time and the realm of the dead, and in much the same approving way.
"Lets see if the first Wytch of the Shadows is Sanctum worthy," Shaela said as she stepped out of the door.
...
He was much younger than she'd suspected. Maybe in his late twenties. A handsome man, though much more predatory than she was being at that moment. If he was the predator, then she was the predator of predators, for she watched him very discretely from the table at which she sat, enjoying her favourite black tea with a hint of red cinnamon and sugar. Despite the fact that she was uniquely different than most who surrounded her, she somehow blended in, remaining a shadow amidst the light.
He on the other hand, was clearly ego driven, and she could tell that they shared a commonality, meaning that he'd be immune to her sting as much so as she'd be immune to his. He was confident, and clearly brazen at times, which were probably requirements for his line of work, for he was Norton Bidner, a private eye.
When he stood from his chair in the tea house, he got up and left, even walking directly by her without so much as looking at her, though that was no guarantee that he hadn't detected her. She withdrew her makeup mirror and checked her face, using the mirror to watch him as he departed through the tea house's front door.
She then got up and gathered herself, departing for the door before he could escape her pursuit, stepping out onto Cadogan Gardens and heading in the direction of Draycott Place.
Shaela continued on foot, easily keeping up with him given her height and leg span, following him until he'd stopped to greet another man outside of a shop for gentleman's clothing. The two of them stood outside, engaged in a discussion as Shaela approached. She strategically turned left and continued, carefully keeping an eye upon them, again, using her makeup mirror.
The two men continued speaking, and then stepped over to a parked car a few feet away. The man that Norton Bidner had met getting in the driver's seat.
"Oh dear. We're going to need to keep up..." Shaela said to herself, looking for a discrete place readily accessible for her to do what she needed to do. When she found it to her left, just down Draycott Place just off of Cadogan Gardens, she stepped into the alley.
And from there, she was suddenly lost as to what to do next.
"Oh dammit! It was in my rage only moments ago...!!!" Shaela cursed as she found her way into the alley, but had suddenly found that her memory of the means of her pursuit was gone. As if it had been there, but was suddenly plucked from right under her nose by some unseen force.
And then behind her, she felt its presence.
"It would seem that you have a need, but are without the means, whereas I have a means but without a need. I can be of help you, Shadow Wytch, but there is as always, a price," the ominous voice from her backyard experiment with Nelony had returned, and the alley which she now occupied had become as dark as a nightmare in the day.
"And what cost might that be?" Shaela queried the voice, turning in the hopes that she might face it.
Instead, her eyes were only met by a translucent darkness, through which the entrance to the alley was barely a nearby haze.
"The shadow plane exists not apart from the material plane, but side by side. In the very same space, as do an infinitude of other such planes. Woven together by concepts that defy the very nature of matter and energy. To travel through one, is to journey through the other..." the ominous voice explained to Shaela as the darkness staved off the day's light.
"And this is your sales pitch I assume???" Shaela challenged him.
"One step there, is a thousand here. You will be able to move more swiftly than the swiftest of all..." the voice continued.
"But for a price..." Shaela observed astutely.
"Yes. For a price. You will give lend to me, at my need, two of your senses, though when I am using them, you will still have access to them all of the same. You won't even notice when I'm seeing through your eyes, and hearing through your ears..." the voice laid down the terms of its deal with Shaela.
"...in exchange for your granting me the ability to traverse my world, by using the shadow world as a short cut I'm assuming?" confirmed Shaela.
"I could not have put it more accurately nor have explained it so plainly. Yes. You'll be able to, at will, traverse the material world through the shadow world. A very effective detour I think you'll find, once you get to know your way around," the ominous voice seemed satisfied, in much the same way that a used car salesman might.
"Deal," Shaela responded, and with that, she was no longer in the material plane.
She was in the shadow plane, peering at our world from within.
She immediately thought about the two men of whom she was formerly in pursuit, and her vision immediately jumped to a place several blocks away. Her eyes were focused upon their car as it navigated the downtown London traffic.
She watched as the car pulled into an underground parking lot on Abbey Orchard Street, and her eyes quickly found the address.
"Abbey Orchard Place. Now lets see if my step is as good as quick as my eye..." Shaela said before moving forward and into the abyss of the shadow plane.
Her motion was ever so slight, not even a step, and yet it had taken her more than two kilometers through our world: the material world. When she found stillness once again, she merely had to concentrate and she was no longer in the shadow plane, but back into the material world and now standing outside of Abbey Orchard Place.
"Sorry Miss. I didn't see you there," a well dressed man, two inches shorter than her bumped into her on the sidewalk, a briefcase in his hand.
"Quite alright. Please watch your step next time I bid you," she responded, then turning towards the door and making her way inside of the building's front foyer.
As she approached the security desk, the door from the garage suddenly flew open and Norton Bidner stepped through, followed by Norville Bidman.
"...and so I managed to get her to give me the direct line number to his investment broker, and that's how I got access to his portfolio..." Norton bragged readily to Norville, who smiled quaintly as he responded.
"They don't make them as discrete as they used to," Norville responded.
"They certainly don't. So where are we going here?" asked Norton as they arrived at the elevators, Shaela keeping herself hidden behind a corner against whose wall she was now leaning as she spied the men by the elevator.
"Tenth floor. Unmarked office. We take the south hall out of the elevators. Last door on the left. Its listed as Abbey Orchard Securities, in case you ever need to look it up," Norville advised Norton as they stepped into the newly arrived elevator, whose doors closed behind them.
"No. They don't make them as discrete as they used to..." Shaela responded to herself as she made her way over to the elevators.
...
Shaela arrived on the tenth floor and followed exactly the directions that Norville had given Norton, arriving at the last door on the left, from the south hall beyond the elevators.
She tried the door, only to find that it was locked. There beside the door on the right was an LED panel with a numeric keypad, and assumedly, a camera and intercom.
"I don't think that would be the kind of discrete I'm looking for," she turned away from the door and headed back towards the elevators, trying to figure out how she could somehow gain access to their meeting without alerting them to her presence.
She found the ladies room, along the north hall and dipped in quietly, standing before the mirror and sink, when she caught sight of her own reflection.
"That's a brilliant idea, if I say so myself..." Shaela said to her own reflection.
"Is that you Gladiola? There was a message from Jim earlier. I left it on your workstation for you. A sticky note? Something about Norton being held up for the meeting..." a lady from inside one of the cubicles addressed Shaela, very obviously mistaking her for someone else.
"Thank you love. I'll check it in a bit," Shaela responded, as she opened a doorway into the shadow realm and stepped through.
"If I can use this shadow boundary to travel from place to place, I can also use it to secretly keep an eye on things..." Shaela said to herself from inside of the shadow plane.
Once again, she focused on Norton Bidner and what she recalled of his looks, and before she knew it, she was looking directly at him.
He sat at a boardroom table, beside Norville Bidner. There were several others, all in business attire, lined up on either side of the boardroom table. Thirteen in all, as Shaela secretly watched and listened from the shadow plane as their meeting progressed.
"...then there's the issue of the burden of proof, which lies directly in our lap. No matter how much pressure we've applied to Mr. Steadman, we have not been able to stifle him or stumble him. Not even once," A large and imposing man spoke, his hands thick and calloused, a contrast to his three piece suit.
"How've we done in digging up anything from his health records?" asked a mysterious man at the head of the table.
"Nothing of the like we're looking for. Though he was subpoenaed for a blood test shortly after having accrued a quarter of his fortune from a good investment," a lady responded to the the man at the head of the table.
"That wasn't his investment. That was him gambling with his inheritance. Its only blind luck that it panned out for him the way it did," Norton Bidner responded.
"Never the less, he had a blood test requested by the court in a paternity suit against his estate. A blood and DNA test he passed. As it turned out, the plaintiff in the lawsuit had a history of such claims against the wealthy, and even a few who weren't," the lady continued about his health records.
"Medication? Anything of that nature?" asked the man at the head of the table.
"He had a short stint taking medication for stress relief in his mid-twenties. That coincides with when we began our pressure tactics and psyops. We figure he tried to buy a Doctor or two who could fix him up with meds to help him deal with the stress, but he changed his mind at some point before he turned thirty," the lady continued.
"He's as clean as a whistle on those grounds. We'll never get him on anything like that. That's why Norton and I have been focusing on his gambling, and his drinking. We've got evidence of how on a growing number of occasions, how he has gone off the handle on his money managers and accounting team, in situations that were clearly triggered by his dependency upon those two issues. We've already got two men on his money management team. They've been helping us to gain traction over his finances and most recently, we've been able to put together a smear campaign involving him, and much younger women, who've recently taken a shine to him. He seems to be running amok with regard to his responsibilities, and hence, we're putting together a case to take away his estate and to put it into the hands of an independent, in order to stabilize the flow of money and to deal with his gambling and drinking," Norville explained to the man at the end of the table.
"What about these young women?" asked the man at the end of the table of Norville.
"One's an artist. A wealthy girl herself. Both of her parents are deceased. The other is an environmentalist. Her parents are hippies who run their own health food store/apothecary in Shepperton. One thing I should like to note about this, is that these are the same women who have involvement with the dog from the old man's shop..." Norville brought up their situation in exactly the right way.
"They're true descendants of the line?" asked the man at the head of the table.
"Apparently. Not just any descendants. The descendants. The ones that are being sought by our brothers..." Norville advised them all at the table.
"And they're romantically linked to Jorge Stockard?" the man at the end of the table confirmed with them.
"No, but they could be made to appear as such. There's a lot of security footage at the Casino that includes them being quite friendly with Mr. Stockard, though no actual intimacy if that's what you're after. But that's not where we'll get the most bang for our buck in terms of incrimination. You see, we recently found out that the artist is using her home as the headquarters for their Wytch's Coven. A fact that was recently discovered by a very religious tradesman who entered into one of the rooms which he wasn't supposed to and encountered a pentagram on the floor. Seeing that he was extremely religious, this fact shocked him, and he took several photos and a video of the scene and shared it with his church congregation. We figure that those photos and the video took all of two days to spread to every church of this particular denomination around the world, which has recently led to a crusade of sorts by that very church to seek out and abolish Wytchcraft and Satanic practices, according to the intel we were able to intercept on this activity," Norville played his cards as carefully and tactfully as he could.
"Now of course, the members of this church don't know the first thing about any such rites, and have been using conspiracy websites as their main source for reference material in their fight against these rites. Since their having done so, their churches have exploded with other similar findings in other locations, prompting many of the members of these churches to setup community surveillance in order for them to get a handle on what they call a crisis of Wytchcraft and Satanism. A situation from which we can most certainly benefit, especially if we act quickly to secure a diplomatic relationship with this church, it would yield untold access to surveillance intelligence at the community level. Intel that we can use to assist us in the future. Not only that, but the more we need to tighten the noose, the more of this satanic scare we create, which will prompt more and more communities to jump on board, as more and more church run surveillance takes over to stop it. Its literally the best thing that has ever happened to accelerate Zekestes' plan," Norville explained to the boardroom, his and Norton's findings.
"Let their secrets be their undoing..." the man at the head of the table spoke as if quoting scripture of some form.
"Now. About Jorge Stockard? What is the alternative?" the man at the head of the table asked Norville.
"Crossed Swords," Norville said to the man at the head of the table with a scant smile on his face.
"I beg your pardon?" confirmed the man.
"We, gaslight Jorge Stockard, and kidnap him. We force an alternate identity upon him taken from another fellow who is already homeless and living in the shelter system. We take that fellow, and give him full control of Jorge Stockard's fortune. We pay five percent of Stockard's fortune to the shelter system as a payment to keep the entire secret for us. Five percent of nine hundred million dollars is forty-five million dollars. We'll keep that as a slush fund to which they have access and as long as they help us to keep the secret of this switching of identities, they have access to that money and without our scrutiny, though we'll certainly pay close attention to how and where its used for when the day comes that they betray us, and they will," Norville assured them.
"Who is this other fellow?" asked the man at the head of the table.
"His name is James Benley. He looks remarkably similar to Jorge Stockard, despite their very different upbringing, it would be a trivial matter to pass one off as the other," Norville sold his plan to the man.
"And how would this benefit us in the goal of our ancestors and towards Zekestes' ends?" asked the man at the head of the table.
"Consider this to be the prototype situation. We're testing something that we're going to be doing quite often in the near future. The better this situation goes over, without the truth being revealed, the more feasible a proof of concept it is for similar future operations of this manner. With a public terrorized by the scare of Wytchcraft and Satanism, the church will have a stranglehold over the community by way of surveillance. We'll have an avenue through which to dispose of any of the wealthy or powerful elites who oppose us, by dumping them into the shelter system as mentally ill, while replacing them with those we've liberated from the shelters," Norville's smile grew that much more sinister.
"Has this been done before?" asked the man at the head of the table.
"Not directly, but they've been secretly vapourizing identities for years. Erasing citizens from the public memory. It that can be achieved, then what I'm proposing will be trivial by comparison. As soon as word of this threat spreads throughout the elite, more and more of them will fall into place by our side," Norville sat down once again beside Norton.
"Then this is what shall be done. Jorge Stockard will become James Benley, and James Benley will become Jorge Stockard. Create a secret economy that rewards those who keep that secret, while punishing those who break it. I also want those women, those of the true line of Lyra by our side. Give them the harsh hand first. Use the church to break them, and when they have nowhere else to turn, they'll come to us willingly," the man at the end of the table ordered them.
"So shall it be done as you've stated, Mr. Lorr," Norville responded, shaking hands with Norton over their success in having come to a solution with regard to Jorge Stockard.
"I've got to warn Mila and Nelony..." Shaela said to herself.
At that moment, Mr. Lorr turned to face the direction in the material plane, where Shaela was located in the shadow plane. He looked right at her, as if he had heard her himself.
"Did we expunge this office before our proceedings?" Mr. Lorr asked of those seated around the table with him.
"We're far from any risk of those who wield the weave, and the only woman of whom we're aware that is capable enough to be a threat to us, is with us. There is no need for any sort of precaution of that nature. Besides, it would only attract the attention of the Yokai/Kami Continuum, and we do not want the trouble they'd bring to us," Norville was quick to defend their plans, and to assure Mr. Lorr that there were not any risks, though Mr. Lorr was not so easily convinced.
But by that time, Shaela was no longer in their office, and was outside of Mila's front door.
To Change The World, Begin With Thyself
Mila opened the front door of her home, and there before her stood Shaela, her face appearing an even more ghostly shade of pale than usual, starkly contrasting her favourite black lace dress, which adorned her body.
"Shaela? I was worried that you might be the representatives of from the local church again... " Mila greeted her with a surprised and yet relieved look on her face.
"You know already?" confirmed Shaela, who once Mila had given her the room, entered into her home.
"Don't worry about your Doctor Martens. I haven't yet cleaned the floor today," Mila responded as if she'd not heard Shaela.
"Sorry. I wasn't clear. I meant about the church. You know already?" confirmed Shaela once again.
Already know what? That they're on an obsessive mission to save our souls from who knows what?" Mila continued, closing the front door behind Shaela as she stepped inside.
"They got photos of the inside of our room. You know? That room...?!!!" Shaela insisted to Mila as they walked through the hall to the dining area just outside of the kitchen.
"Photos? No. I think a tradesman I hired to fix the central-vac system might have been a little bit devout, and poked his head in the room as you so eloquently put it, and then sounded the Satan worshipping alarm with the rest of his church. They've already shown up on my doorstep once, speaking about pentagrams, symbols and how the devil is hiding in plain site and that rigmarole if you catch my drift?" Mila explained the situation from her perspective.
"No offense, but if they've already shown up at your door, I'd say that the devil is now in the door to door business, myself," Shaela responded sarcastically.
"What's this about photos then? I just assumed that the tradesman got a peek at the room, and then hit the panic button with his congregation. In all likelihood, they believe they're doing the right thing, despite the fact that they haven't yet acknowledged the fact that they violated my privacy and are applying the rules of their religion as if they're the law of the land, which they aren't the last time I checked," Mila responded, a little bit frustrated to suddenly find herself having to justify having a pentagram on the floor in one of her rooms.
"I followed Norton Bidner and Norville Bidman today. I managed to get close to them..." Shaela explained to Mila, whose expression went from that of slightly frustrated but whimsical amusement, to that of serious concern.
"How close?" Mila asked of Shaela.
"Close enough to have overheard the majority of their evil genius plans. It was like something out of an old James Bond flick..." Shaela explained the Mila as Mila poured them each a tea from the boiled kettle.
"In a Sean Connery or Roger Moore kind of way?" Mila asked Shaela as she brought their tea with her towards the sliding doors to the back porch.
"Both, though even more cliché than the last time we spoke. It seems that Norton Bidner is Norville Bidman's understudy in the private eye business. Bidner has been digging up information on your and Nelony ever since you showed up in Jorge Stockard's life. They've been trying to twist the situation to make it appear as if he's romancing the two of you..." Shaela explained to Mila as she slid the door open for Mila.
Mila stepped through the doorway, Shaela closing the door behind her, but only after Happiu~isuka had joined them on the porch, his tail eagerly wagging at her presence. Mila placed the tea on the table and the two of them took a seat across from each other, squinting under the afternoon sun.
"Romancing us...? He's handsome and all, but he's got to be in his forties. I don't think that if either Nelony or I were going to date an older man, that he'd be the one..." Mila quickly deflected the insinuation.
"I didn't say that they'd confirmed that you were being romanced. I said that they were trying to fabricate it, as part of an effort to discredit Mr. Stockard. They're after his estate. They referred to him as a practice target for what's to come later, when they start closing the noose around the world's elites," Shaela spat it all out, and then took a breath before having a sip of her tea.
"Are you saying that Bidner is behind the tradesman violating our privacy?" asked Mila skeptically.
"No. He's exploiting a situation that was already well underway before he found out about it. He says they took photos and video of the room, and shared it with their parishioners throughout the world. Its secretly gone viral, and prompted that particular denomination of the church to use their parishioners as part of a large scale surveillance program against the communities they occupy, on the grounds of exposing and undermining rampant Wytchcraft and Satanism..." Shaela explained the situation as she'd learned about it.
"But we aren't involved in Satanism or... We're creating... no, we're already running a secular organization that is employing the use of Wytchcraft to... Oh dear. So this is how it all happens? When it appears that we're the only barrier between maniacs like the Norbids becoming the tyrant rulers of the world, they use ignorance and superstition to turn religion against us and before you know it, they're burning wytches at the stake," Mila was slowly realizing that Nelony, Shaela and herself were being initiated into a much greater understanding of the way of things than they'd ever anticipated.
"Its happened before. It will happen again..." Shaela insisted.
"We're not even summoning demons or devils or anything of that..." Mila looked to a growing frown on Shaela's face, and then stopped mid-sentence.
"Are we? ARE WE?!!!" Mila asked Shaela twice.
"No. Not demons. You know as well as I do that there are no demons. There are only entities whose goals line up with ours, and those whose goals don't. The term demon is just a superstition coated description of those entities whose goals oppose, or are even a threat to our own," Shaela reasoned with Mila, who essentially saw eye to eye with Shaela with regard to that rationale.
"Try explaining that to someone whose entire life was spent being indoctrinated... brainwashed into these patterns of thinking. The us against them mentality, especially with regard to the unknown," Mila responded.
"Well we aren't the first who've had to contend with this, you know. When I was studying the history books looking for any signs of a trail leading to the shadow arts, I found out that during the dark ages, when the church's strength was at its peak, that the women and men of science became the allies of the women and men of the esoteric arts and mysteries, because they were both equally persecuted. When a power has control over the entirety of the narrative that acts as a compass for society, especially where questioning that compass is dangerous to those who do, the women and men of science are as much the demons as are the women and men of our esoteric arts and mysteries. When we don't fit in the narrative as part of the solution, we become the problem. We become the demons they're frightening their parishioners about," Shaela explained to Mila what she'd learned about the nature civilization when superstition becomes a tool of the tyranny.
"They must have had to overcome this as well...?" Mila speculated aloud.
"Who?" asked Shaela.
"Them. The first Sanctum. The one we're trying to rebuild..." Mila pondered the meaning of it all.
"Yes, but we're doing it without an instruction manual," Shaela ruminated.
"Alright. I don't think that this situation could get any worse, but we can't let this bring us down. We have to warn Nelony, and we have to start treating this like the secret that it is, because there are people who don't want a secular order watching over the world, protectively, or any other way, and when they find out about us, they'll do whatever they can to destroy us," Mila leaned forward in her chair and looked to Shaela.
"At least now we understand why they kept things like this a secret. Here we are convinced of the good that we're doing, when in fact, there are powers in the world who are already trying to undo us," Shaela replied, she too leaning forward and looking to Mila.
"Its all happened before, and it will happen again. We've just got to stick together, and persevere the worst, while overcoming the obstacles," Mila smiled uneasily at Shaela.
"...and all without sacrificing our own integrity, or losing sight of who we are and what we're about," Shaela added.
"I've got an idea. Nelony is going to help the Environmental Agency clean wildlife that has been adversely affected by the oil spill, if you haven't heard already. She's already told me that she's going to try to use her abilities to speed up the process and to save as much wildlife as she can," Mila explained to Shaela.
"Hopefully without exposing herself," Shaela confirmed.
"She assured me that she wouldn't. However, assured her that I'd consider taking on the greater bulk of the situation... but I fear it might be too much for me alone..." Mila continued with her line of reasoning.
"You're planning to change things in some way?" Shaela asked Mila to elaborate.
"I've been dabbling here and there with that quite a bit lately. I've had some great successes, and a couple of failures too. I think that the three of us need to focus on this together, because we really need to prove to ourselves that this idea, this Sanctum Seclorum, that it can really work, if we work together," Mila spoke as if she were pleading the case for the Sanctum itself.
"You're planning to go there. To the site of the oil spill, aren't you?" Shaela said, as an optimistic smile grew on her face. One that was anticipating the challenge of taking on the disaster directly.
"You bet I am, but I think that we'd do better as three of us," Mila insinuated to Shaela.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world. But if I'm staying tonight, we're going to have to go easy on the Shiraz," Shaela agreed with a smile upon her face.
At that very moment, the doorbell sounded through the back porch speakers.
"Who could that be? I'll be back in a moment. Its probably, the church again..." Mila got up and stepped through the sliding doors, closing them behind her as Happiu~isuka jumped up onto the chair beside Shaela.
...
Mila stepped past the LED screen, only seeing that it was a handsomely dressed man by the door.
She opened the door, and there before her stood Wes, and for the first time in a long time, she found herself unable to speak.
He looked at her, and she at him, their eyes tracing their respective features admiringly and longingly, and then when they could no longer contain themselves, they both moved and their lips touched for the very first time.
And it was perfect.
To be continued in Era of the Spellbound: Episode 14 - The Victory of Disaster
To be continued... and I don't play guitar. I've never owned a guitar, but as I've stated, it is a very expressive instrument in the hands of a skilled player. The modern violin and harpsichord rolled into one. If Mozart were alive in the 1980s, he most certainly would have been a guitarist. If he were alive today, he'd probably be a DJ.
Me? I'm a keyboard and piano player, without the aspect of having taken or borrowed that impression from anyone else.
Its good to see that Pat, a mover from the old days of moving that landed himself a good gig in modern times. Congratulations Pat. Keep well and earn a good living. I'm still on the side of the fence I've always been, though Cynthia will always be a big part of my life experience.
Written by Brian Joseph Johns and this is Shhhh! Digital Media at https://www.shhhhdigital.com or https://www.shhhhdigital.ca in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at 200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701.
Credits and attribution:
Special thanks to Udemy, whose courses I have relied upon for the last few years to allow me to grow my skills at my own pace, even finding time between my frantic work pace here at Shhhh! Digital Media.
Thank you to ComfyCloud, whose web based desktop interface and cloud based rendering solution is one of the best solutions I've found yet. I first learned of ComfyUI from YouTubers MickMumPitz and PixelArtistry. If you're looking to get into using AI on your local machine under ComfyUI, then I'd highly suggest checking either of their sites for tutorials covering the topics you'd like to explore.
Thank you to Grok AI (via ComfyCloud) who was the key artist behind: (Danger Tiger), (Tea Reading), (Sailors at Port), (King's Court), Tarot Cards: (The King of Pentacles), (The Page of Swords), (The World), (The Inverted Hanging Man)
The image of the glossy red nail polished thumb holding the inverted tarot card was sourced from Paloma Glow, and in accordance with the Creative Commons 4.0 license, as found by this search on Google under images, where the license details are indicated.
Thank you to Kling O1 Image (via ComfyCloud) who was the key artist behind: (Nathalie and Gwendolyn).
Thanks to this Reddit post for the interpretation of The Hanged Man Inverted.
Special thanks to Perplexity AI and their Comet browser, who have recently become a part of my software toolkit. Their AI powered helpers accelerate your research, reference at every step of the way, not to mention built in tools for content generation, though Shhhh! Digital Media does not rely on text generation for any of its stories, though I do work with AI for suggestions, and scientific accuracy of concepts in Butterfly Dragon, and for delving into the more esoteric traditions of mysticism that are aligned with the story and background of Era of the Spellbound.
Special Thanks to the Natural History Museum in London, England and of course to the Royal Ontario Museum in my own home of Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
Special Thanks To Rocket Fuel Lakeshore Blvd West, perhaps the best place in history to get a coffee, circa 2001-2004. Miss you all very much.
Artwork: Amy Wong, Wendy Pusey, Ghastly, Birdman, Brian Joseph Johns, Daz3D, Unreal Engine...
Tools: Daz3D, Corel Painter, Adobe Photoshop, Lightwave 3D, Blender, Stable Diffusion (Easy Diffusion distribution), InstantID, Sadtalker, Google Colaboratory, Microsoft Copilot (Windows 11), Hitfilm, PhotoPea (a great web based Photoshop stand-in if you're on a low budget or in a pinch), Borderline Obsession...
DeepSeek AI for suggestions on exercises to improve aspects of describing scene and settings with a more sensory focused grammar.
InstantID by: Wang, Qixun and Bai, Xu and Wang, Haofan and Qin, Zekui and Chen, Anthony. Research Paper Title: InstantID - Zero-shot Identity-Preserving Generation in Seconds.
Sadtalker by: Zhang, Wenxuan and Cun, Xiaodong and Wang, Xuan and Zhang, Yong and Shen, Xi and Guo, Yu and Shan, Ying and Wang, Fei.
Research Paper Title: SadTalker: Learning Realistic 3D Motion Coefficients for Stylized Audio-Driven Single Image Talking Face Animation.
Gratitude: Our Mentors, Senseis, Sifus, Sebomnims, lifetime inspirations, family, friends, the Nomads (ask Stanton about that one), the Music, the Movies, the Theatre, the Arts, ASMR, (both YouTube and Bilibili and the many other creators on those platforms), the Gaming and Developer communities and of course, the audience.
Martial Arts (in the words of real experts and at least one comedian): https://brucelee.com (home of the real Dragon and an entire family of inspirations), http://iwco.online International Wing Chun Organization (International presence of a very scalable intensity martial art, protected and developed by Shaolin Nun Ng Mui) and the alma mater of Jinn Hua's own specialized variation thereof, https://iogkf.com International Okinawan Goju-Ryu Karatedo Federation (even Hanshi had his teachers), https://itftkd.sport International Taekwondo Federation (Here there be Taegers), https://tangsoodoworld.com Tang Soo Do World (the path of Grandmaster Chuck Norris), https://www.aikido-international.org International Aikido Federation (how else would Navy Chef Steven Seagal liberate a Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier from a team of hijackers?), https://www.stqitoronto.com Shaolin Temple Quanfa Institute (The City Of Toronto's own Shaolin Temple), https://www.enterthedojoshow.com Master Ken's Ameri-Te-Do presence (If we can't laugh at ourselves, then we can at least laugh the loudest at others, and other Zen)
Magic (performance, illusion and perhaps the real thing): Magic Week Archive (I'm currently growing this section so stay tuned)
Special thanks to Aitrepreneur, Mickmumpitz, Hugging Face and the YouTube educational content producers, including those catering to the AI content production pipeline and of course AlphaSignal.
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Jesse Enkamp: Karate Nerd
Jesse, a reknowned Sensei who runs his own dojo, explores the world of Martial Arts, traveling to many exotic locations to meet practitioners of a variety of different arts
Sensei Rokas: Martial Arts Journey
A reknowned Sensei of Aikido who in seeking to understand the roots of Aikido and its applications, seeks to stress test its effectiveness in a number of real world situations while studying its history
Seamus O'Dowd
An extensive growing archive Katas, Techniques and Waza (mostly Shotokan)
Iaido: Train For Katana Mastery Like Samurai
The original weapons focused curriculum under which Samurai became masters of their art
Tapp Brothers Exercise For Better Motion
Extensive courses for calisthenics and body strength, stamina and flexibility
Special thanks to Canva for inspiring other creators and giving them the tools
Special thanks to Captain Crunch and his wonderful sister!
Special thanks to Bandcamp for giving indie music artists a home under one roof
Something to give you perspective: The very first teacher had no formal education, didn't graduate and was self taught, but only because they had no other choice. We do.
Magic (performance, illusion and perhaps the real thing): Magic Week Archive (I'm currently growing this section so stay tuned)
Special thanks to Aitrepreneur, Mickmumpitz, Hugging Face and the YouTube educational content producers, including those catering to the AI content production pipeline and of course AlphaSignal.
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Jesse Enkamp: Karate Nerd
Jesse, a reknowned Sensei who runs his own dojo, explores the world of Martial Arts, traveling to many exotic locations to meet practitioners of a variety of different arts
Sensei Rokas: Martial Arts Journey
A reknowned Sensei of Aikido who in seeking to understand the roots of Aikido and its applications, seeks to stress test its effectiveness in a number of real world situations while studying its history
Seamus O'Dowd
An extensive growing archive Katas, Techniques and Waza (mostly Shotokan)
Iaido: Train For Katana Mastery Like Samurai
The original weapons focused curriculum under which Samurai became masters of their art
Tapp Brothers Exercise For Better Motion
Extensive courses for calisthenics and body strength, stamina and flexibility
Special thanks to Canva for inspiring other creators and giving them the tools
Special thanks to Captain Crunch and his wonderful sister!
Special thanks to Bandcamp for giving indie music artists a home under one roof
Something to give you perspective: The very first teacher had no formal education, didn't graduate and was self taught, but only because they had no other choice. We do.
This content is entirely produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at 200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701 under the Shhhh! Digital Media banner.
Click image for contact information...
This content is entirely produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at 200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701 under the Shhhh! Digital Media banner.
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