She waited until Milicent and Noah were out of earshot before adding, “Argan, bring the stone with you.”
At six fifteen, the foursome stood on the steps of Vivienne’s apartment, staring at the bay. It was too early for crowds. A single man walked his dog along the rocky coast. A fishing boat was coming in with the night’s catch to sell to the locals for their upcoming day’s meals. The air was heavy with humidity, yet Noah was wearing both his new cashmere sweater and a plum pashmina, wrapped around his shoulders, that Milicent had thought she’d bought for herself.
Argan chuckled at Noah. His own attire was the absolute opposite. He had replaced his pajama bottoms with a well-worn Rosen T-shirt and athletic shorts.
Milicent, still fancying all things purple, kept on her velvet tracksuit and wore her hair swept up in a high bun similar to Vivienne’s pile of braids.
Vivienne’s flowing caftan mirrored her flowing personality. They followed her down to the cold, packed sand, not yet warmed by the sun. The wind carried the scent of the sea mixed with that day’s catch from the fishing boat. Noah wrinkled his nose slightly.
Argan inhaled deeply. The briny scent gave him a dose of energy that pulsed through his veins in a way he’d never noticed before. As they got closer to the edge of the water, the energy within him increased and he felt an excitement build within his belly. Vivienne glanced at him; a slight smile turned up her lips.
Milicent and Noah were oblivious, too concerned with their footwear.
“I told you not to wear your new shoes on the sand,” Milicent scolded.
“I can’t do this,” Noah said, shaking sand from his loafers. He turned back toward the apartment. He got halfway up the bank and looked back. “Mil, come with me,” he whined.
“Fine,” she said. “The sand isn’t really my thing either.” They quickly disappeared back into the apartment.
Argan looked at Vivienne. “You knew they would bail.”
“Yes,” she said. “They are worthy, but so predictable. They will get there in their own time and not a second sooner.” She turned back to the water. “Hopefully they’ll take out my strada. Let’s keep going.”
They stepped into the warm, foamy water. The edges of Vivienne’s dress lapped up the waves as they walked farther and farther into the sea. They never appeared to get any deeper, although they walked for quite a while. Argan looked down at the edges of Vivienne’s dress. The water was being absorbed as they walked. The sea had filled in behind them.
They walked a bit longer, and when they were a hundred yards out from shore, the sand dipped down and they walked on a slight decline. All the while, only their feet got wet. The water parted before them as they went deeper and deeper down.
Vivienne eventually stopped and Argan’s eyes widened. In front of them stood a luminous tree. Its leaves of flowing kelp, exposed to the breeze, fluttered gently. The delicate-looking tree stood majestic yet feminine, a secret under Bari’s sea.
“Wow,” Argan said in amazement. “The last tree of the Great Mothers.” He took a step closer. “It’s the most beautiful of them all. I feel her energy.” He looked at Vivienne. “That’s what I felt walking over here, a stirring of excitement, like a memory of her return. Sophia’s return?”
Vivienne nodded. “Yes, child, she is so close, waking up her children here on earth. This tree gives illumination to humanity and connects to the Akasha through the water.” She motioned for Argan to get nearer. “She is the last tree, the last secret. She is the scribe of the Akasha. All of the Great Mothers’ trees serve a vital purpose on the planet. This is mine.” She reached out and touched the strands of kelp. Her hand blended with the leaf and it was impossible to discern where one ended and the other began. “Through their root system, they connect to every other tree on land. The water in the roots trickles down into the streams, ponds, puddles, rivers, and oceans of the world. The one planet comes alive with light seen beyond this galaxy.” She looked to the sky, now full of sunlight.
“All water on the planet holds consciousness. The record of all life experiences is imprinted in the water everywhere. It finds its way to this tree and she filters it and it gets recorded into the citrine wall.”
“This is incredible and perfect,” Argan said.
“The four trees are us, the guardians of the elements—fire, air, water, and earth. We are also the four directions—east, west, north, and south. These trees are precious but strong, steadfast, eternal. The seasons come and go, there is death and rebirth, and they remain, ever watchful.”
Argan counted on his fingers. “One in Ocean’s backyard, one in Beatrice’s, one in Silverwood, and one here.” He nodded and stared at Vivienne’s tree. “She is magnificent.”
“We are so close to the end,” Vivienne said. “Only one final piece of the puzzle.”
Argan waited.
“You,” she said.
“I’m sorry?”
“You,” she repeated. “The Divine Feminine can not complete her mission without her counterpart, the Sacred Masculine. Lucifer was correct to bring up the Twin Flame paradigm. You, Argan, embody everything the masculine should be in our world and in the world to come. You take inspired action from the directive of your heart. That is what is needed from the hero of the next age.”
She smiled with the warmth of a mother, and Argan thought of Leonora.
“Yes, your mother has prepared you well. We owe her our eternal gratitude. There’s just one last step. Yours.” He looked to her for explanation. “This is where you will walk through to the First Age, to reunite with Skylar. This is the door you’re looking for.”
“The tree?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Yes, and the time is now.”
“Now?” He looked down at his clothes. “I’m in shorts.”
“Pay no mind to your attire,” she said. “It will be transformed when you transition.”
“What about the strada?” he tried to ask, joking, but he choked on his words.
She smiled. “I’ll keep it warm for you.”
“What do I do?” he asked.
“Hold out your stone and walk toward the tree. Step into her,” she said. “She will do the rest. When you emerge on the other side, turn left. When you start interacting with people, you will recognize the one that will help you.”
He looked down at a glowing bed of oysters surrounding the tree. They all slowly opened, each one revealing a perfect, glossy pearl. In his greatest act of faith to date, he did as directed and walked toward the tree. He turned back to look at Vivienne. She smiled with encouragement. “Left!” she called through cupped hands. Her voice reverberated through the waves and he felt the sound ripple through his body.
He took one more step toward the warm, inviting light of the flowing kelp leaves. He felt his body release his soul, and he became one with the light.
Suki sat in the Quine library, exasperated. She had exhausted all the resources at her fingertips. “It’s just not here,” she said to the empty room.
She looked at the cartoon map, as she had done many times. She was looking for the alchemical doors, the Portas. There was one at the Quine, one in Silverwood, one in Italy, and one in the Underworld. Where was the last one? Ocean said there were six. The original still stood in Palombara and four others were accounted for. Where was the last one?