The Legend of Angel Sati
There exists a legend deep in the lore of
a forgotten civilization of two sisters who became one. I came upon this
lore one dark night as I sat hunched over a rotting wooden desk in the dank
recesses of the ruins of a castle buried and forgotten in heart of England. The
accounts were so vivid, so many witnesses of these sisters I have come to the
conclusion they may have actually existed and may still exist to this day.
I will describe here the contents of the story as I have read it.
The burden will be placed on you to decide if these sisters truly existed
and who they were.
We found the entrance to the ruins quite
by accident. It was in early 2014 and I was leading a team or
archaeologists across England looking for evidence of long forgotten early
settlements of humanity in the area. It was a long and grueling dig with
several location all over the country. Everything we had discovered thus
far although fascinating were know civilizations, but there were always clues
in the art and pottery that there was a civilization that had influenced these
early people. After long talks with my colleagues we decided there was a
civilization that must have existed long before these more recent ones that was
well know across the world. Something had happened, it was as if they had
been erased from history. This naturally fascinated us.
Eventually we made our way to the northern
most part of the country where it was subtly indicated this forgotten
civilization may have existed. It was approaching twilight as we came over a
rocky ridge overlooking a flat valley fifty meters down. I will not
discuss the exact location for fear treasure hunters may seek this out and the
purity of the site may be compromised. The setting sun cast an eerie
orange glow that make the dew on the grass sparkle like diamonds, I could not
have fathomed such beauty could exist in such a remote part of England.
Nature is always brilliant and beautiful, but this was ethereal.
The valley seemed to be alive and breathing.
Our group decided to camp on the valley
floor so we could get a jump on the survey at first light. As the
darkness descended we all gathered around the crackle of the fire hesitant to
set up a generator and lights. We all just wanted to drink in the sweet
wine of the Milky Way above our heads. Without the light pollution of
towns and cities the night sky came alive. We were as the men of long
past eons huddled around the fire discussing the mysteries of the universe.
We were children again awash in the wonderment of eternity.
We stayed by the fire for hours discussing
all matter of topics, after while my mind drifted to the secrets this valley
may reveal. I wondered about the civilization that could have existed
here and may have happened to them. Were they peaceful? Warriors?
It was an amazing proposition there could be something buried beneath us
the world had forgotten. Then it happened. A light in the distance.
Close but fleeting, in an instant it was gone I wasn't sure I had seen it but I
felt compelled to follow it to it origin. I arose from the fire and
walked off into the night. My colleagues didn't notice my departure and
kept talking as I disappeared into the darkness.
The brisk air of the night hit me.
It was midsummer but a chill hung low in this valley, I pulled my coat
tighter and pressed on to where I had glimpsed the light. After a few
minutes I came to the place where I had seen the flicker. At first glance
there appeared to be nothing but grass with beads of dew and an assortment of
stones. I was ready to turn and head back to the comfort of the fire when
something caught my eye. Mostly buried beneath the moss and dirt on the
ground was a stone slab, you could easily walk over it and not see it.
But it was there. I had to kneel down to get a better look.
There was a beauty to this stone that
immediately stood out. It was like no other, an obsidian slab with flecks
of gold inlaid across it. I quickly used my hands to clear away the dirt
and debris the night sky my only light. After I was done I fumbled in my pocket
for a small flashlight I always kept with me. I made sure I always kept
it and a pad of paper and pencil on my person in case of any situation that
would call for it.
After some time of examination, I realized
I was standing next to a door. There were clear handles carved into the
front of the slab. A door to what? I had to ask myself. I had never seen
a door like this, never come across anything like it in my studies. It
was clearly very old. There was no way this door was modern in any way and
by the overgrowth it was apparent it had been undisturbed for a very long time.
I proceeded after that to do something I
never should have done. I should have waited till first light but it was
as if some unknown force compelled me. I placed my hands on the grooves
carved into the obsidian slab. It began to move with little effort
raising up above my head and revealing a staircase carved into the rock itself.
I let go of the slab and it stayed in its place, unmoving. I shone my
light down into the darkness which then illuminated a corridor at the bottom of
the stairs. I could not help me and could not turn away, I soon found
myself descending the staircase with the slab closing silently behind me as I
moved.
The sky disappeared as the door shut and I
was left standing there at the bottom of the steps with only a thin sliver of
illumination from my flashlight to see.
There was not much to see down here and for a moment I regretted my
decision to come down without notifying my colleagues. The smell of dirt and dust inflated my
senses, it was a smell I had experienced many times in ancient tombs that had
lay undisturbed for centuries or millennia.
While it may produce a foul feeling in the pit of someone’s belly, in
the belly of an archeologist it is a smell of victory, a confirmation of hard
work and sound theory. This was no
recently created structure or hoax, it was old.
Very old.
I took my light and pointed it down the
hallway there was nothing, my light could not see the end of the dark. It was an unimpressive dark stone corridor
hand cut into the ground. I could not
see the end as hesitated to continue.
The opulence of the obsidian slab that covered the entrance was nowhere
to be found down here, it is hard to imagine the same people constructed the
two structures. As much as I wanted to turn away something just kept drawing me
forward into the depths. The darkness
was overpowering and lonely I felt a cold draft whoosh down the corridor and
hit me in the face causing a shiver to run the entire length of my body. Then I heard it like a whisper in my ear, a
calling to come deeper. I followed along
the passageway flashlight in one hand my fingers trailing the wall with the
other. There was a slight moisture on
the walls and a smell of must thick in the air.
The whisper endured through the entire length of the passage driving
ever forward to my unknown destination.
At last the corridor widened and I found
myself in a gallery. I swung my
flashlight from side to side illuminating the room I now found myself in. I was in awe and understood immediately the
bleakness of the corridor was a shade for the room I now found myself in. Whoever had built this place intended for any
person who ventured down the corridor to feel a sense of disappointment so when
they entered this room there would be a complete shock and sense of wonderment? Even in the dim light, I could make out the
complete artistry of the décor, a master had worked this place and taken his
time, from wall to ceiling there were intricately carved and colorful impression
of life when this was created, it looked like a 3-D painting. Every image was tied into the next forming
one big work of art, stepping into the room was almost like stepping into the
lives of these long gone people.
Everything in this room was a representation of this moment captured by
the master artist.
A person who entered this room would be
stepping into a frozen moment in time, they would gather a real sense of it
would have been like to live among this culture. I looked down to see the floors carved and
painted to resemble grass and pebbles, the ceiling was of a bright afternoon
sky with loose cloud cover, I almost felt a bit warmer just looking at it. The pillars that supported the weight of the
ground above the chamber looked so much like trees I had to reach out and touch
them only to feel stone instead of bark.
I walked slowly through the room swinging my light from one master piece
to another. Statues had been built and
dressed as merchants standing behind fake shop windows selling produce carved
of stone that looked so real I felt I could have eaten it if I had a mind
to. I studied the room, the detail was
photorealistic like I was there.
All through the chamber were statues of
men women and children so lifelike I felt like they were actually alive. They were all dressed in clothes worn at that
time but none had not degraded even slightly whatever the fabric they were
woven from had stood the test of time. It was humbling to imagine such artisans
could ever had existed. Davinci and Michelangelo
paled in comparison to the masters who built this place. This room untouched by time was a capsule, a
moment in time captured for the explorer who entered.
The walls were a different story. They were a single piece of art that wrapped
itself around the room and they had a story to tell. When one entered the room immediately on
either side of the door were a depiction of a single female child, eyes downcast
as if in prayer. The depictions were
carved as intricately as the statues that littered the internal part of the
gallery. I examined them closely they
were so lifelike. A single tear rolled
down the opposite cheek of each child.
They were dressed in robes of white and blue with a thick gold chain
draped around their necks and a silver plaque with strange writing on it. In the next frame crowds of people were
following each child as they progressed across the walls in the room. Behind the crowds were depictions of battles
and ceremonies all with these two children leading the people in battle and ceremony? Whoever they were they were worshipped by
these people, they were goddesses.
I followed each one around the room
feeling like one of the people in the art until I had traversed the room and
come to a large oak door with heavy brass handles. Again on either side of the door were the
girls only this time their eyes were open casting a glance directly at me, my
discomfort was immediate their eyes were haunting, made of sapphire and emerald
they sparkled in the light. Their gaze
was so haunting I involuntarily looked up above the door. It was then I understood the significance of
the gaze. The makers wanted the observer
to feel the discomfort and look above the door.
And there it was. A depiction of such intricacy and beauty I nearly fell
to my knees in awe of its glory.
The work was of the two sister ascending an
obsidian staircase flecked with gold, the same material the door was made of,
in each scene they got closer and closer to one another eventually holding out
their hands to embrace each other before merging into one entity in the final
scene. The being was a being of
transcendence and beauty a representation of completion and ascension. A being of absolute energy one that became
one with space and time.
CLICK!!!
The heavy oak door swung with a loud creak
inward and a faint glow came up from the shadows warm and inviting. Again the whispers in my ear, more coherent
now I could almost understand what it was saying. I passed through the door and came to a
winding obsidian carved stairwell, there was no scenery carved into the wall
here and besides the stairs there was no indication of the work of the master
artisans here. I descended down many
steps until I came to another door. This
door was different than the other. It was made of a thick silver painted on
either side again were the sister’s eyes downcast in solemn prayer. As I observed them there was another click and
the silver door began to swing inwards.
I entered into a massive library. Wall to wall were lined shelves of books 3
stories tall. It was a gem of
archeological discovery, the holy grail of a forgotten civilization. It was a massive collection of thousands of
books. Every wall was covered. In the middle of the room there were four
torches arranged in a square and sitting in the center of the arrangement was a
small pedestal with a small white candle on either side shaped like the two
sisters. A thick unopened book sat
between them. I cautiously approached
the pedestal. As I got near the whispers
became louder and increasingly more audible, I could make out what they were
saying now. “The Sisters will Rise
Again.” Over and over the phrase rung in
my ear, it sounded like a crowd of people now speaking with reverence. When I was finally standing over the book the
candles came to life illuminated the cover of the book. I hunched over to look closely at the
cover. It was bound in thick leather
with beautiful images of the sister depicted facing each other holding up the
sun. It looked almost Egyptian in its representation. The title was woven gold and silver und unintelligible
to me. The writing was almost a continuous
looping motion quite beautiful.
As I stood there examining the manuscript
afraid to open it something began to happen.
The silver and gold weaving of the words began to move and change
eventually settling on a coherent English.
I could read it! The title.
“The
Legend of Angel Sati, Two Sisters Who Became One”
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