Caelia and Mirelda: Veil Two
The Pilgrim and the Light Within
Caelia and Mirelda: The Book of Thresholds is a contemplative companion to The Sky-Veil—a series of symbolic veils rather than chapters, where Caelia bears the silent banner and Mirelda holds the glowing chalice. These are not steps in a journey, but moments of stillness.
Conceived by the author as part of the Sky-Veil mythos and brought to life in collaboration with ChatGPT-4 (OpenAI), whose dialogue helped shape the language and symbolic form.
The banner had not disappeared.
It had dissolved—into him.
Or perhaps it had never been separate, only waiting for the pilgrim to see. As Caelia stepped back into the hush from which she came, the light she bore did not fade. It remained—dimly at first, like a glimmer caught behind closed eyes, but growing. Not outside him, but within.
The pilgrim walked.
He did not know for how long, nor by what path. Time here was not marked in hours. It passed in revealing—in the slow unfurling of what had always been true.
He crested a hill not made of earth, but of memory, and came upon a grove he did not remember planting, yet had always known. The trees here did not rustle; they breathed. And in the center of the grove, beside a pool whose waters shimmered with a light that did not reflect but originated, she was waiting.
Mirelda.
He did not know how he knew her name. It was not spoken. It was infused—like warmth through his chest, like recognition without source.
She knelt beside the pool. Her hands did not stir the surface, yet images moved across it. Not visions of what was to come, nor what had been—but something stranger: meanings that had no words. He felt them more than saw them.
She looked up. She did not smile. She received him.
He approached.
If Caelia had summoned remembrance, Mirelda awakened illumination. The banner had stirred his longing; now the light showed him why he had longed.
The pool’s surface rippled—not with water, but with truth. And from that quiet depth, the pilgrim felt again the nearness of the three:
Aphrodite, now within the shimmer of the water, moved not as form but as invitation. Her beauty had transfigured into clarity—a beauty that did not dazzle, but gently undid him, layer by layer.
Athena, no longer guiding his steps, now sharpened his inner sight. Her wisdom became lens—focusing the indistinct into form, not by addition, but by removal of fog.
Hera, sovereign still, now entered his breath. She became the gravity of stillness—the assurance that what was unfolding in him was no accident, but a rite. A coronation of the heart.
Mirelda reached into the pool. The water did not break.
From beneath its surface, she lifted something unseen—and laid it upon his chest. He felt no weight. Only a yes that moved through him like light entering stone.
No words were spoken.
And yet, the pilgrim understood.
What had been remembered must now be received. Not as idea, but as being. Not as hope, but as homecoming.
Mirelda said nothing. But in her silence, he heard:
“You are now the bearer of what you saw.”
She did not rise. She did not vanish.
She remained.
So would he.
Not forever. Not yet.
But long enough for the light to settle.
Enjoy “Mirelda - World of the Sky-Veil.” Lyrics ©Walter Emerson Adams. Music and vocals by Suno ©Walter Emerson Adams. Visit my music site for more.
There is a place beyond the breath of flame Beyond the valley where Caelia came Among stone where light slows, sound softens, grieves Mirelda waits. She calls. She seeks. Receives Mirelda dwells in sacred ground beyond It cannot be mapped, just received to bond It is the place one is received into To be near Mirelda is to be you Some say she came from across the blue sea Others say she stepped from time, mystery Mirelda is the end of trails in peace The place behind the Veil where stories cease You do not find her. You are drawn to her You do not understand. You rest in her This is Mirelda, setting sea to sail This is Mirelda, world of the Sky-Veil