After a call, the cab arrived in minutes. Martha sank down in the worn backseat clutching her phone. She stared out the window, watching trees, buildings, and life go by. Normal everyday people going about their business, unaware of the unseeable energies and entities coursing among them. Oblivious to the notion that if Heaven is The Beyond, then Hell is The Before. An unspeakable place where the condemned are drawn in as if their terrible lives created a specific gravity that pulled them into it, to relive the horrible things from their past, set in a repeating pattern of psychic destruction, over and over, each reliving adding the weight of more regret.
A lifetime of experience managing her gift had not resulted in many certainties, but there was one truth Martha had come to understand—many don’t realize that it is the same in death as it is in life. An auspicious future, a hopeful spiritual fate can be brought about through altruistic action, or the pain and regret from the past can be brought forth into the present through repeated hurtful and hateful actions, creating a repeating mental loop much like condemnation, a living hell until the relief of either realization frees the mind to think about improving the future or death comes to lift the burden of regret, only to have it come to bear once again in The Before. This most human conundrum is one of the many weaknesses seized upon by the malevolent entities roaming among us.
The Beyond, The Before, and their respective purgatories were largely revised and adopted afterlife concepts that had become somewhat familiar to Martha over years of researching ancient texts predating the Egyptians. Rare texts, out of the public eye, available only to those few who were granted access.
The Beyond, The Before, and their respective purgatories were separated by the In Between—a realm forbidden to the living. Or so she thought. It would take an immensely powerful and knowledgeable talent to access the forbidden realm of the In Between. The thought of a person conjuring from the purgatory of The Before was a terrifying notion, one Martha had assumed she would never encounter during her existence in the Earthly Realm. She had been living with the certainty of a soul desperate to believe humanity would be safe from it, would know better—until today. The entity she saw today ranked as the most powerful evil she had encountered in her lifetime. She refused to believe but suspected it might be an energetic manifestation of one that had somehow been pulled from the purgatory of The Before, bound to relive the evil deeds committed on those children. A truly fallen being whose soul had rotted away while waiting in the purgatory of The Before, leaving it energetically deformed into a horrid monster. How had it been called up? If it was...
In retrospect, the strength she demonstrated in the face of it surprised her. Despite her well-cultivated discipline, she’d had to call upon the energy of the goodness within Michael. He’d mentioned the Bible. Martha did not consider herself a Christian but, somehow, in the moment, understood that to be his source. Respect for all beliefs... Altruistic alignment. Her recitation of St. Michael’s prayer had called forth just enough to make a stand. But Martha knew she would need a depth of spiritual dexterity she could not currently comprehend in order to handle the next confrontation, which she felt certain would come. She wondered if she would find the strength as well as the ability to bring it forth.
A sharp jerk of the taxi changing lanes brought Martha out of her trance. She glanced down at her iPhone 5 and saw she had several notifications. Although she steeped herself in the ancient, Martha loved tech. She ignored the notifications and brought up a search for ‘demon’ and ‘craving for fat.’ She got some disturbing results. The entity had emerged in the form of a mythological Latin American boogeyman known as a pishtaco. She drifted off in thought considering the newfound information. The trickster gave himself away. If this was indeed one of the condemned that had escaped the purgatory of The Before, it had chosen a formidable demonic construct. She returned her attention to the search results. The pishtaco actually had a Wikipedia page. Reading through the brief information, she knew she would need to refer to her demonology books when she got home.
Intrigued by this realization and what she might learn, she rested her head back on the seat, turning over the day’s events.
But it was only the energetic manifestation of a demon, not a physical demon, right?
Or could it have been the remnant energy, the demonic opposite of a soul, of an actual demon that had once been a physical entity, destroyed at some point?
At least now I have a place to start...
Chapter Nine
A warm cup of Chaga mushroom coffee sat steaming on the desk, accompanied by a ramekin of shelled and lightly salted pistachios. A tea candle in a small glass holder shaped as a star sat burning beside the mug. Martha leaned forward in her office chair wearing her reading glasses, combing over the demonology books one more time. Satisfied she had found what she could about pishtaco mythology and how to handle what she now believed to be remnant energy conjured from the purgatory of The Before, she turned to replace them on the dusty shelf. Anxious now to learn more of the history behind Clay’s experience, she decided not to take the time to change into her evening clothes, and instead, tuck in for a night of reading and research.
Martha knew she had seen reference to amalgamation in one of her texts, which had enabled her to offer a brief but incomplete explanation to Officer Street earlier that day. Over the years, she collected books and other reference materials that had helped give her insight into the interaction of the spirit world and the Earthly Realm.
Martha sat up sharply in her chair. “Reference materials! That’s it.” She spun around, took a deep pull from her mug of Chaga coffee, then tugged open one of the heavy lower drawers of her desk. Her file system revealed a thick collection of papers and documents she’d either downloaded or copied. She had a habit of reading the printouts and copies, making notes, and then filing them away. Leaning forward, she sorted through them. Some were labeled. Some had been hastily stuffed in no particular order. As she pushed and pulled document edges back and forth with her fingers, she came across one that looked as if it were made from linen parchment. She slid it out along with several pages stapled together. The bundle of papers appeared to be photocopies of research findings she came across in the county library years ago.
Martha took a deep breath and looked them over. “This is it.” She had just found the posthumous publication of an obscure article that had intrigued her so long ago. It dated back to the late 1800s and included a collection of random documents detailing the controversial backstory surrounding the author.
She read out loud the handwritten note at the top of the first page, “Town library, Liber Linteus de Cetamura, Egyptian sarcophagus, woman, 400 BC.”
She flipped through the papers. “The Ptolemaic period,” she murmured. Then a side note caught her eye—one word followed by a question mark: Amalgamation?
Martha paused and thought back to the time she had spent in the dusty old downtown library before the rise of the digital age. She had been surprised to find a decent collection of academic journals and history books, including many concerning ancient Mediterranean cultures such as Rome and Egypt. The Egyptians, of course, were fascinated with the afterlife, which is what had piqued her interest. Martha tossed a few pistachios in her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and then washed them down with a sip of her brew as she settled back to scan the documents.
The article discussed an ancient manuscript known as the Liber Linteus de Cetamura. It was a linen codex that had been found near Alexandria in the mid-1800s, buried with an unidentified Egyptian female mummy dated to around 400 BC. The manuscript had been used as part of her funerary shroud, and so it had been well preserved. After the dissection of the mummy, the manuscript was salvaged and eventually placed on display along with the sarcophagus at the Egyptian Museum of Florence. The peculiar manuscript had become a subject of heated debate for a short time. The language had been identified as Etruscan, which wasn’t very well understood in the 19th century. Still isn’t.
She remembered thinking it odd that such a rare Etruscan codex would be buried with an unknown Egyptian female mummy. She found the story enchanting—the codex alluring. Looking upon the ancient text, she became seduced by it, felt a strong desire to know more. Following her instincts, she copied the article for later analysis. She flipped the page to view a picture of the Liber Linteus de Cetamura, remembering why it seemed so entrancing. As Martha smoothed her fingers over the paper, she could almost feel the texture of the linen through the photocopy. It seemed oddly familiar to her, almost inviting. She ran her fingers over it again, soaking in the simplicity of the mysterious symbols. After a few thoughtful moments, she tore her gaze away from the photocopy and flipped the page again to read further.
Despite the fact that no one could translate much of the text, one thing had been agreed upon by all who examined it. The beginning chapters, or columns as they were commonly known, were missing. Without them, the true meaning of the manuscript could not be fully understood. Besides that, many dismissed it as a meaningless rituary calendar outlining an ancient schedule for daily dedications and required offerings. Eventually, scholarly interest waned, and over the next couple decades, the codex faded into the myriad of artifacts contained within the walls of the museum.
Then the story jumped to later in the 19th century when another sarcophagus was unearthed from a site near Alexandria. It also contained an unidentified female mummy and, in a synchronistic stroke of good luck, the Egyptian Museum of Florence wound up purchasing it. During the dissection of the mummy, a fragment of linen, salvaged from her funerary shroud, turned out to have Etruscan text. Interest once again heightened as scholars compared the fragment to the Liber Linteus de Cetamura. No one dared to be certain, but some suspected it could be one of the missing chapters, or at least part of one. If connections could be made between the fragment and the manuscript, it would shed light on the meaning and purpose of the codex. But, as before, interpretation proved difficult, and progress stalled.
Frustrated by the lack of headway, the museum director had called on a rising star in the archaeological field to assess the linen fragment and its potential link to the manuscript. Dr. Laurence K. Muska was a specialist in ancient languages with a focus on cultures evolving around the Mediterranean. Working alongside Émil Brugsch, he had made his mark during the discovery and subsequent excavation of Seti I. He spent many years prior immersed in ancient Egyptian history and language. He also published many articles on the Etruscan archaeological find at the Lake of the Idols in nearby Arezzo, Italy. His time spent analyzing and translating inscriptions on the scores of bronze statuettes found at this site gave him a unique insight into the Etruscan language. At the time, he had been working in Arezzo and, without much persuasion, agreed to help.
Dr. Muska was one of only a few younger academics granted access to the manuscript in the hopes that someone might make sense of it. The director had obviously felt his unique combination of archaeological experience gave Dr. Muska an advantage over those who had so far been unable to decipher the fragment and manuscript. However, his involvement only served to be disruptive. Right from the start, Dr. Muska had dissented from his esteemed colleague’s translations, insisting the symbols and text had been misinterpreted. But he didn’t stop there.
Now I remember why I had found this interesting, Martha reflected as she sipped from her cooling mug, briefly enjoying the view of the setting sun seeping in through her windows before returning to her reading.
As she immersed herself deeper into the article, it became clear to Martha that Dr. Muska had openly accused his senior colleagues of negligence in regard to their translations. A point of contention being that the Etruscan civilization spanned nearly 900 years. Had they not considered the fact that cultural interpretation and use of religious symbols often evolved over the centuries, expanding to imply more than their original meaning, adding depth to literal translations? He pointed to obvious connections they had missed because they simply failed to fully understand the culture of the time and the evolution of the symbology. He drove his point home by citing findings from his excavation efforts at the Lake of Idols that linked the regional symbology with the codex.
Martha sipped her brew, contemplating the implications. Dr. Muska had attempted to form a relationship between the newly discovered fragment, the original codex, and the artifacts discovered in the same region the codex was written. If he did so, it could help him translate and perhaps understand the real purpose of the manuscript. She flipped through a few pages and found a letter, addressed to no one, written by Dr. Muska. The letter recounted Dr. Muska’s involvement with the investigation of a burial chamber found deep in the Egyptian desert.
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Deir el-Bahri, Egypt, June 1881...
This is my best attempt at a firsthand account of what happened in the Royal Cache KV35. It has been only hours since my experience in the tunnels of the Royal Cache. Something extraordinary happened and, although I do not keep a diary, I felt it important to document this. I can only speculate as to the reasons why and how, but for now, I will stick as closely as I can to a factual account.
I had been honored to be part of the team that would be the first to examine the remains found in the Royal Cache. It appears to contain the remains of nearly a dozen pharaohs, and it has been rumored that Seti I is among them. It has been 64 years since the discovery of his elaborate tomb and empty sarcophagus. I have always been fascinated with him and personally looked forward to seeing his mummy the most. He only ruled for a short time, but his accomplishments echoed through subsequent generations.
After an arduous hike, we descended into the chamber by ladder, then followed a tunnel deeper into the earth. The tunnel was roughly hewn, indicating the excavation had been hurried. As we descended a set of steps, I found a coin, which I intend to log with the rest of the antiquities.
We reached the cache and I stood back as the men inspected the coffins. They were plain in appearance, roughly formed in the shape of a supine body. The lids were shaped at the top with the image of an anonymous face adorned with nemes.
My breath caught and my body tensed when we reached the coffin thought to belong to Seti. I watched as they attempted to remove the lid, but it appeared to be stuck. They would need to force it but expressed reservations about doing so. After much convincing by Émil, they proceeded. The coffin had to be jostled a bit, but the lid finally came loose. After a moment’s inspection, the men voiced concern. There appeared to be some evidence of tampering with the mummy’s head—a very bad sign. The men started moving around the coffin, agitated. Their erratic movement caused some rubble to shift and, as a result, the coffin was jostled again. When the dust cleared, we saw that the head had become unattached.
Then the most extraordinary thing happened. Sounds of an ancient language seemed to fill the room, but I realize now, I’d heard the whispers only in my mind. Then the air began to rotate around me, filled with orange sparks. Before me appeared what I can only describe as an apparition. As the winds took me, everything whirled until I lost consciousness. The men attempted to raise me, and when I came to, I felt the most astonishing sensation as if I had the energy of another coursing through me. I caught the glow of orange in my eyes before the sensation left me altogether.
Afterwards, they told me that I collapsed and had to be carried from the tomb and to my tent, where I rest now recounting this experience. Perhaps, at some point soon, I will be able to make sense of it. Until then...
𓂓
Martha’s eyes jolted open. Donnerwetter, I must have dozed off. She sat up and brushed her hands over her blouse. Straightening her glasses, she eyed the mug. Checking the contents, she decided not to finish the dregs.
After making a refill, she settled back into her chair. Fatigue had set in. She tried not to relax and stared into the flame of the candle, lost in thought. The letter was nothing short of incredible. An incredible story, but is it credible? Martha couldn’t be sure. She closed her eyes for a moment to rest and reflect and try to put the pieces together. Years ago, she had immersed herself in researching this topic, but now the details were still hazy. If I remember correctly, this is where Muska appeared to have left the realm of reason only to enter the tricky territory of speculation.
She continued reading despite her misgivings. In doing so, Martha learned that Dr. Muska had pulled from his depth of knowledge concerning the Etruscan pantheon, the language revolving around it, and how it connected to artifacts found around the Lake of Idols. By analyzing the evolution of the language and the local cultural interpretations, he postulated that ancient Etruscans had come to have a more grounded view of death than previously understood by his colleagues. Before starting a new venture, many craftsmen and traders not only made offerings to their goddess of death, Leinth, but also to their Earth goddess, Cel. Dr. Muska stated that, to the ancient Etruscans, death in this case actually symbolized the act of moving on from the past and that doing so revealed a doorway to success in the next part of life in the Earthly Realm. In this way, the life and death path had been inverted. He ended this part of the discussion by comparing these beliefs to the Hindu practice of making offerings to Kali—the goddess of death or destruction—before moving on to a new phase of life.
