Disappear: Into Shadow

- CHAPTER FIFTY NINE -

Old growth rainforests blanket the coastal mountains of the Pacific Northwest. Deep in their midst was a place found only by the lucky or witless. A graveled clearing lay under the shade of a great crescent ridged peak. Nestled below that great slab of stone, a green carpet ran out towards the valleys of three intersecting passes. The clearing's heart was a gray oasis where two winged totem poles stood at its center. The oval was ringed by other totems, equally tall but un-winged, their carved faces turned inwards from the mighty pines surrounding them. The giant totems kept silent watch across clearing and the surrounding highlands.

It was a place of many faces. Painted red and black, the watchful gazes of the carved animals looked down from their perches onto the weed-free, soft grey gravel spread throughout the clearing. The Raven's Nest was a meeting place of spiritual and natural ground; and here, the rites of 'As Above, So Below' could be viewed and felt all at once. For brief windows of opportunity the two realms became one in this quiet place.

During the wait for that elusive magic hour, the clearing's raw power filled the air. A musk, damp and silken, clung to everything it touched. Its beauty was more readily apparent, as every tuft of grass, every needle on the trees radiated life, health and energy. The Raven's Nest glowed beneath the dusky rose skies. Once, in a distant time, the world had a boundless supply of these places, meeting grounds of life and beyond. Most had gradually faded from sight as life became less reliant on the spirit, and fading with them was their magic. Fewer and fewer souls visited these places. Most cannot or will not hear their calls. These places and their guardians had learned the increasingly obvious fact that life had become too busy. It was easier, more convenient not to believe anymore. One after another, guardians began to leave and the clearings, the anchors of the natural world to the spiritual vanished. Life took over and the clearings faded from view.

Dagan, Decimus, Simon and the shimmering image of Tom's ghost appeared from the gloom of the forest. Standing at the sacred clearing's edge, the Centurion's armour and the ghost's translucence glowed in the fading light of day. Simon stared at the totems with obvious wonder.

"There are only four other places like this left scattered around the world." Dagan told Simon, as he strode into the clearing, beckoning him to follow. "While they appear physically different, their purpose is the same."

Simon felt awkward walking over the gravel. It looked so smooth, leveled and undisturbed. He didn't want to ruin it. For a moment, he forgot he was a spirit. He followed Dagan, amazed.

"They're anchor points," Dagan continued. "Locks keeping the spirit realm tethered to the physical world. Of what used to be thousands, only five attachments remain."

Simon walked the clearing trying to absorb every little detail in the carvings. Wrenching his attention away from the red and black faces, he focused on Dagan. He had never seen such passion or shadow in Dagan's eyes. It filled Simon with a sense of wondrous fear. He watched Dagan pace, scanning the totems and surrounding woods. He was either looking for someone or something, or perhaps making sure the area was safe. Not sure which, Simon did recognize in Dagan the look of a hunter.

The hunter's eyes noticed Simon's keen gaze. Dagan said, "Matching each of these places are keys, talismans of power to open and most importantly, unlock anchor points."

"The big deal being, what?" Simon asked.

"When you die - Thomas you should be paying attention to this - you always follow one of these five pathways because when you die you're supposed to leave the world. Everyone must go somewhere else. Which means Hell in your case Thomas," Dagan said.