“They were men once, long ago – they wrote our myths and built our tools  while we fought for dominance and established hierarchies and standards, founded upon nothing but the passions and aversions of those in power.  They were torn from this world under mysterious circumstances, only to develop elsewhere, adapting to another environment.  They shall return to us little by little in a covert and disorganized manner and, in its pernicious blindness and visceral aversion to all things holy, the world shall react to them as if they were monsters and keep them under its heel - that is, until the arrival of the Conduit, Ren-Marite. She shall gather them and lead them on a mission to reclaim their true form and their rightful place on this Earth, whether the world is prepared for them or not.  Our worlds shall be merged, and those of us who prepare ourselves shall ascend to a higher state of being, while those who do not will die from the sheer pain of their own ignorance.”

-          Vision #246 of High Priestess Radmila Mladic’s “Visions of the Zelishem.” (1786)

 

 

 

 

Two men and a girl of about six years old stood shivering in a tiny building that was part of a small religious compound. Periodically, one of them (most frequently the girl) would sway on their feet as if fidgeting in this manner would make time go by any faster.  The center of this building was furnished with an elaborate altar, decorated with dried flowers, crystals, and shells as well as a small censer.  There was no incense burning in it at the moment, but the space smelled strongly of jasmine and camphor with a hint of rose. On the walls hung iconic paintings of a dark-haired, statuesque woman with three eyes and four blue, crystalline protrusions coming out from her skull. In one of the paintings, the woman smiled gently and wore an intricate floral wreath around her head – a jarring contrast to her otherwise formidable and otherworldly appearance.

 

The taller of the two men examined these paintings. His eyes focused on them sharply and his lips curled into an adoring smile.  When he looked upon them, he felt a surge of energy course through his body as vague yet exhilarating impressions of this being’s power raced through his mind. Depending on how the meeting he awaited went, that power could all be his.  His contemplative state and the sensations accompanying it dissolved in an instant when he felt a small tug at the leg of his thick, fleece-lined pants.  He breathed a guttural sigh of impatience and looked down.  

“How much longer do we have to be here, Dad? It’s cold and it stinks,” the little girl complained.  This was the fifth time she'd been in such a building.  At the beginning of the trip, her father told her they were visiting these places because she was special.  She didn't feel special.  She felt isolated, as if she were drifting through a void.  

 

The uncomfortable temperature of the building was due mostly to the drafty windows.  While the mystics inhabiting the compound clearly found the time and resources to decorate their space in a way they saw fit to honor their alien goddess, maintenance for the sake of their own comfort fell low on their list of priorities.

 

“Shh, Meredith.  Go look at that,” the man said in a distant voice while pointing towards the altar.  Meredith crept up to it with a half-hearted smile spreading over her face.  This was the most interesting thing she had seen in days – rural Ukraine was not exactly the most stimulating place for a child.  In particular, one thing caught her eye – a small labradorite stone.  To her, it looked like the horizon at dusk in the dead of winter concentrated into a pearly orb, with its swirls and gradients of blue streaked with black and tinged with yellow and green.  After examining its every detail nearly to the point of meditating upon it, she quietly tucked it into the pocket of her thick, green coat and rubbed it between her fingers, enjoying its smooth texture.  Her father took notice of this, but made no move to stop her.

 

The door creaked open, letting in a sudden gust of wind.  A woman who appeared to be no older than nineteen stepped inside, her firm, prominent cheeks reddened by the cold.  “Hello, hello,” she gasped with as much pleasantness she could manage between shivers.   She was tall and of average build with a soft, voluptuous figure and a graceful, reserved bearing.  She wore a long, pale blue cloak trimmed with rabbit fur, and a pair of worn-down slippers.  She briskly pulled back the hood of her cloak, revealing her long, unkempt auburn hair.

 

“Thank you for wait,” she said, her words sounding graver than she intended on account of her accent.  She motioned rapidly to a small couch that was situated against the wall and covered in heavily patterned, yet slightly tattered blankets. “Go, sit down! Why you make it little girl stand?”  

 

The three of them settled on to the couch while the woman stood in front of them.

 

“Sorry I keep you wait.  Which one Richard Silva?”

 

Meredith’s father raised his hand and gave a sharp, upward nod.  “That’d be me.  And you must be Alina Galenko.”  

 

“Yes.  And you want what?”  She leaned towards him, her eyes narrowing in a combination of curiosity and suspicion.

 

“We have something to show you that may be of interest to you,” he spoke slowly as his confidence in his ability to communicate with the young woman waned.  He sighed and nudged the other man sitting beside him.  “Come on, Brian, looks like it’s your time to shine, yet again. Perks of knowing a polyglot, heh.” The other man nodded and stood up. Alina grew even more apprehensive as Brian approached her.  The compound occasionally got curious visitors – mostly local amateur journalists and desperate spiritual seekers.  Richard Silva’s party did not seem to belong to either of those categories.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Art by S. Holloway)

 

 

Brian spoke to Alina in Russian as best as he could manage.  “We’re here from Pennsylvania. We’ve been looking all over Eastern Europe for adherents to the Zelishemite tradition.  Everyone we spoke to who knew anything about it said to come to this compound and ask for you.  They say you can see into other worlds and feel the influence of those worlds in this one.” He gestured toward Meredith.  “That’s Meredith Silva. We believe she is the Conduit.”

 

Alina turned her icy blue eyes upward and sighed through her nose.  “You are not the first to come here making these claims.  However, you are the first to come from across the ocean.”

 

“So you will evaluate her, then?”

 

Alina tilted her head and crossed her arms in front of her ample chest.  “Do you know exactly who the Conduit is?”

 

Brian pointed to one of the iconic paintings.  “The Earthly incarnation of the goddess, Ren-Marite.  A Zelishem born in a human body, destined to create a bridge between our world and theirs.”

 

Alina squared her shoulders and made direct eye contact with Brian.  “And how do you know about all of this?  Our tradition is obscure enough throughout Europe, I cannot imagine much knowledge of our prophecies has reached the Americas.”

 

Brian’s face paled and he gave a brief glance in Richard’s direction.  He was met only with an impatient stare and a barely audible grunt.  He turned back to Alina and cleared his throat.  “Ah, well, there has been a big surge of interest in folk religions recently in the States, yours included.  In any case, the prophetic texts about the Conduit… Well, they explained away many of Meredith’s peculiarities, and the fact that some people, including her mother, have an adverse physical reaction to her presence.  Her mother and father looked for answers, and this was the conclusion they reached.”

 

Alina closed her eyes and gave Brian a half smile.  “The Zelishem race has influence over some humans born on Earth and has for some time.  This alone does not make any one of them the Conduit,” she explained, her expression remaining cynical.  “However, you have come from so far,” she added, turning her gaze towards Meredith.  As soon as she looked at her, her expression softened.  She walked up to the child and knelt in front of her, trying to make eye contact.  Meredith crossed her arms, furrowed her brow, and looked away sullenly.  Richard glared at his daughter and gave her a slight shove on the shoulder.  Alina briefly looked up at him with discomfort, and then turned her attention back to the girl.  She placed her pale, cold-callused hands on her forearms, gently yet firmly.  Meredith relaxed and looked Alina in the eye for about thirty seconds.  Her tiny, chapped lips then moved wordlessly, and a look of apprehension and guilt struck her face.  Her eyes, the color of the ocean on a cloudy day, darted towards the floor.  She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out the stone she had grabbed earlier and held it out to Alina.

 

“…Sorry.  It looked nice. You want it back?” she mumbled in a monotone.

 

Alina’s eyes squeezed shut and she laughed with her head tucked into her shoulder. “No, no. Take. Please.”

 

“Really?” Meredith smiled and bounced her leg as she pitched forward in her excitement.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Thank you!” she chirped and slipped the stone back into her pocket.

 

Alina refocused her eyes on Meredith until she appeared to stare through her. She breathed steadily, honing in on something that could not be seen by anyone besides her and repeating an incantation under her breath.  Her pupils expanded, leaving only a tiny sliver of blue around them.  A faint image of Ren-Marite appeared behind Meredith, and then flickered away. Alina gasped as beads of sweat appeared on her forehead and her face went pale.  After about a minute (though it seemed like much longer), she gave her head a quick shake before she rose to her feet and shuffled up to Brian.  She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to hide how her entire body quivered.

 

“Are you all right, Miss?” Brian whispered.

 

Alina nodded, swallowing audibly.  “Yes.  I am sorry for my doubt.  I believe you may be right about the girl, but she will need to stay here in the compound for the week.  I need to let the other priestesses see her as well.  You and her father may stay as well so we may all discuss things further,” she slurred between shallow breaths.

 

Brian looked back towards Richard once more, giving him a smile and a firm nod. He turned back to Alina and inhaled deeply.  “If you all agree that Meredith is the Conduit by the end of the week, Richard and I will have a big favor to ask of you.”

 

“If we determine that she is the Conduit, there will be no favor too big to ask of me if it is on her behalf.”

 

 

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