The CyberSybils Unroll Scroll Sixteen ~ Zamradielle

ZAMRADIELLE

Zain, anointed priestess of the Simonian Gnostics, intently studied the ancient Book of Shîth sent her from the mystery school of Dositheos of Gethon in Samaria - the same seminary founded shortly after the death of John the Baptist, and the same classroom attended by her father, Simon the Magnus. While conversant in the Greek, Hebrew and the Coptic tongues, the erudite theologian, no more than thirty-three years of age, stumbled across the archaic script with difficulty.

"Damned be Shîth,” she muttered. “Whatever did father mean when he suggested I decipher this text? Not much more than nonsense concerning crawlways and caves and underground chambers…what does this prattle have to do with our heretical beliefs?"

For Zain’s philosophical ancestry derived from the Essene Ebionites of the Dead Sea region who had always believed in the divine female Spirit, passing that jewel of wisdom on to their successors, the Clementine Gnostics and the off-shoot Simonian Sect. The latter groups expanded upon the doctrine of the former and named their holy queen Micha-el or Who is Like unto God? According to those second century rebels, Adam had been born with a dormant soul that had required his goddess, Eve, to animate the spiritless body of earth’s original man.

So the priestess was not surprised to translate an old book, written by the male Shîth, extolling the virtues of a feminine Creatrix. However, the tome’s style was dry, dull and Zain was preparing to leave the work for another’s eyes when a passage caused her pause: When the feast of Sothis did near approach, I, Shîth, did make unto the Cave of the Four and there did celebrate the rising of the Isis star. Many drums did the lover of that goddess employ, their stygian rhythms enlivening the dark canopy of her heaven, transforming once proud hierophant into slave of daemons, imbuing him with the voice of her oracle.

"What is this?” Zain exclaimed. “Father, you are indeed great, for the queen’s star, her dog Sirius, does rise mid this month of Cancer the Crab! I must to the Cave of the Four, to Hebron, and witness this miraculous rite!"

No longer of the opinion that Shîth’s book was worthless, Zain kept the tract with her at all times, intent to learn its content, more enamored of its words than the love talk contained within a passionate letter written her by the greatest prince of the world.

At the appointed time, the Simonian representative arrived with her caravan at the age-old navel of the earth, the burial place of the quaternary antediluvians, the Cave known as Four, or in the secret lore: Machpelah.

Tiny silver bells attached to Zain’s dainty, heeled sandals tinkled and her sheer caftan clung to long legs as the desert highness made a straight path for the entrance to the sacred place. With great reverence she nodded in the direction of the dark, gaping hole, then produced two statues - one of bright Isis and the other of that goddess’ dusky counterpart, Nepthys - and placed the effigies on either side of the natural shrine.

"Beat upon the drums," she intoned, raising her hands towards the night sky. "Sing the chant of our sothic majesty, wail loudly and praise her name in the key of the fourth Pythagorean harmony."

Music rose up in a raging current, twisting, turning, contorting the gentle breezes, whipping them into near gale proportion.

"There exist here no roads, only gateways," Zain began, her voice gaining authority as she moved to the rhythms pounding their way into her flesh and her mind, joining the two with a singular purpose. "Reveal to me the door to her hidden throne room, propel me to the realm of her qalb."

Mention of the Kufic term for heart, but not any heart, the Winged Heart, caused twin spirals to spin before the cave, a double helix of leaves, flying dirt and debris. From the dual typhon was produced a bow and a single arrow; two unlikely accessories which were borne aloft, then dropped at Zain’s feet.

"Zain," a voice, a man’s resonant tone, issued from the void of Machpelah. "Show me the sign, the letter of the goddess."

With a smile, priestess picked up bow, then arrow, crossing the two at the golden ratio point of the first, holding the union up for darkness to behold.

"What sigil have we here, then? How might mortal cross over from being into nothingness?"

"By the sign of G, Shîth," Zain replied. "The symbol of a high priestess who kneels down to none save the One."

"Enter into the Abyss, then," the astonished, unmasked oracle prompted. "Come drink from the cup that obliterates all human thought, the bowl that contains the distillations of your queen, the skull belonging to the original servant, Adam."

"No, come forth from the womb and meet your fate, Shîth, for I am manifestation of Isis and Nepthys in this moment, I am that I am, maiden and whore, creatrix and destroyer, the keeper of the Pyramids, the Mistress of the Chasm."

"Zamradielle!" the voice rang out, and the Other once known as Shîth, appeared at the mouth of the elemental labyrinth, no sign of aging upon his creaseless brow, frame taut and fit, dark head bowed in his shadow’s wake.

"Show me to the dais in the bowels of the pit, conduct your soul’s expression to her rightful seat of glory," the empowered entity instructed. "For you alone of your sex, Shîth, acknowledge Zamradielle, revealing the One who has forever been keeper of the tunnel, of the pitch-black vortex, the mistress most men never dare face. The true Salome who brought down John..."

A pulsating cacophony of sound played on while Umbra ushered Lux within the fearsome subterrane of the alternating phantasm; deeper down into the grotto they delved, Zain’s sharpened arrowhead leaving marks on skin, nails biting into cranium. Yet Shîth made not a single protest, for as the darkness pervaded the core of his being, and the pain consumed the qalb of his consciousness, he was left with the imprint of one overwhelming sensation: Zamradielle.

Broken husk thus remembered, fractured pneuma once more whole, the founder of a novel brand of heresy heard his primeval designation escape the time-space continuum of Hebron. The form of flame-made-matter reverberated off the walls of Machpelah, until the outside world also became cognizant of Adam's true son’s message, a gospel borne on the wing of Zamradielle’s command. For those who possessed Understanding listened and comprehended when they encountered the knowledge of the former Shîth: the Word of the whirlwind they once called Zain.