‘Are you saying that the loser stands to gain more than the winner?’ I struggled to make sense of the conversation.
At that moment Molier’s sword was sent flying over the edge of the Wheel of Fate, which ceased its activity. Molier was left defenceless at the end of Albray’s blade.
‘Mercy.’ Molier dropped to his knees and managed to stall the death blow with his appeal—eight hundred years of life and he was still not ready to face death. ‘I ask you, is it my fault that I was not born of the blood? Whereas you, Albe-Ra, were born the Shining One, automatically granting you access to the inner circle behind the brotherhoods. How else but through the conquest of the Arks was I ever to gain such privileges?’ There was no fear underlying his plea, no humbleness or respect.
‘If your soul had been ready, you would have been born into the line of Isis.’ Albray was not going to be swayed by such tactics. ‘Do you not see that presuming to play god as you have has only delayed your true aspirations?’
Molier frowned as he momentarily considered this, but rather than discuss the premise further or admit to any wrongdoing, decided to revert to his own defence and direct the blame for his plight back on Albray. ‘I would not have abused the ambrosia of the gods for so long if you hadn’t trapped me in the temple. I didn’t realise that my soul would be trapped within my body as a result!’
‘Sion’s teachings warned that there would be consequences for abusing the birthright of the holy line,’ Albray argued. ‘Every knight is taught that.’
‘But what those consequences would be was never disclosed. Do you know what it’s like to have a soul that functions purely on a physical level? I cannot experience emotion. I have only the instinct to survive. I can feed my intellect with knowledge but higher wisdom shall always elude me. I endured six hundred years in the dark airlessness of that temple
Albray struggled against his desire to sever Molier’s head from his shoulders—his rival’s lack of emotion was vexing him, even though Molier had just explained that he was incapable of feeling. ‘You were more than prepared to banish me to the dark abyss.’ My knight drew back his weapon, resolved to be done with his curse.
Molier did not flinch in the face of the threat. ‘I do not have the benefit of your high spiritual standing,’ he stated bluntly ‘Are you not Albe-Ra, a prince of light? And if so, surely you are more merciful than a wretch like me?’
For once, Molier was right. ‘Kill him and darkness wins,’ I stood and yelled down at Albray.
‘He cannot hear you,’ the goddess informed me.
‘But he must hear me,’ I protested.
‘Do you not trust that our knight has evolved enough to reach that conclusion on his own?’ Hathor challenged.
‘Of course,’ I realised, and seated myself again. I would place my faith in the soul I had grown to love and trust implicitly.
The longer the death blow was delayed by Albray’s soul-searching, the broader Molier’s insincere smile grew. ‘It is just as I suspected…you have developed a conscience and no longer have the constitution for killing.’
I held my breath, knowing that the observation would be disturbing to any warrior.
‘No, Molier. The difference between you and I is that I always had a conscience…and if you had exercised the same, you would not now be on the border of damnation!’ Albray was riled. ‘But if you are to be damned, you can take responsibility for it.’ My knight cast his weapon into the abyss and relief washed over me as Albray looked to the heavens to appeal. ‘I beseech the great ladies of the Elohim, can this man’s fate not be of his own choosing?’
‘Yes!’ I cheered my knight’s scruples, and looked to she who sat in judgement.
‘It seems that the next chapter of Albray’s tale shall be the start of a whole new book.’ Hathor and indeed all the women seated alongside me were smiling.
It was exciting to know that Albray had secured himself a future. I would have questioned the ladies further, if the outer world of inner self had not suddenly launched my consciousness into a downward spiral. I knew my consciousness was returning to the physical world for it felt like descending to the bottom of the ocean. My body felt suddenly dense and laborious.
I raised myself from the floor where I lay in the doorway to the Ark chamber, to find Molier and Albray standing on either side of the Ark. The Mercy Seat spun over its treasure and the Ring of Testimony glowed invitingly between the two men, right at their eye level.
‘Wait!’ Albray cautioned Molier from taking advantage of the situation too quickly. ‘Look down upon your being.’
Molier was amazed, as was I, to see that his subtle body was freed of its blackness and was pulsating with light.
‘The ladies of the Elohim are awarding you, and the souls you have corrupted, the opportunity to wipe the slate clean and move back into alignment with cosmic law,’ Albray advised Molier. ‘A step forward to take the ring will return you to the eternity of darkness you have been endeavouring to shake for centuries. A step backwards into the flames will return you to the matrix, where you will be assigned to a suitable era in which to further evolve.’
Molier didn’t seem to fancy his options, and he observed Albray with ungrateful eyes.
‘Only through death shall you ever obtain the chance to be reborn of the blood.’
The statement came as something of a revelation to Molier, who had become accustomed to the inevitability that he would never incarnate.
‘This is your chance to prove that you have the moral fibre from which a son of the blood is fashioned.’ Albray spent his last words of wisdom and fell silent to let Molier decide his own fate.
Clearly, it was difficult to be grateful to Albray for this unexpected opportunity and for the first time since I had started following this ancient mystic tale I actually felt for Molier. How difficult would it be to ignore your natural instinct for survival in order to achieve your greatest aspiration?
