Caelia and Mirelda: Veil Three
Path of Remembrance
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 return.
Not all crossings are made by footsteps. Some are made by remembering.
There was no farewell.
Mirelda did not vanish, nor did the grove fade. But the moment came when stillness yielded to movement—not as departure, but as assent. I turned, not by decision, but by consent to something that had already begun moving within me.
I descended the hill I had once climbed, but the descent was not return.
The world beyond had changed—because I had. The light within me did not cast shadows. It drew them in, transfiguring even darkness into path.
Each step was uncertain, but no longer hesitant. I did not know where I was going, but I was no longer wandering. I was walking with.
The banner was not in my hands. It had become my bearing.
The light was not before me. It had become my way of seeing.
I walked the path of remembrance.
And with each step, I began to hear them—not as voices from above, but as resonances from within.
Aphrodite, whose beauty had once pierced from afar, now moved as a breath between steps. Her presence softened the terrain, not with ease, but with a gentleness that dared me to open—more than I thought safe, more than I believed possible.
Athena, once the guiding flame of clarity, now unfolded as a rhythm in my stride. Her wisdom was no longer a thought—it was the silence between decisions, the moment of stillness before movement, the inner assent that preceded every true act.
Hera, the veiled majesty, now stepped behind me. Not following, but sealing. Her presence was a cloak I did not wear, but which walked with me all the same—an unseen mantle of authority, not to rule others, but to remain true to what had been received.
The path narrowed.
It no longer curved gently. Cliffs began to rise. Trees became sparse. The landscape did not threaten—it tested.
And still, I walked.
Not because I was strong, but because I had been marked. By the stillness. By the banner. By the pool.
By Caelia and Mirelda, who had not spoken, yet had said more than the world had ever offered him.
And in that silence, as I ascended a path that bore no name, I understood:
I was not walking into something new.
I was walking back into something true.
Something I had once been called to become.
Enjoy “Fire and Water,” from my album Caelia and Mirelda: Guardians of the Veil. Lyrics ©Walter Emerson Adams. Music and vocals by Suno ©Walter Emerson Adams. Visit my music site for more.
There is a place in the Sky-Veil where fire And water do not clash, only conspire It is neither marked nor mapped — but found Beyond the far reaching of chart or sound In the silent convergence of the two Between the journey and the veiling hue The edge where longing yields and home begins Here, Caelia and Mirelda join as friends Not side by side—not two points on a line But two bright currents as a single twine One urging forward, the other inward sails Both hidden by the shimmer of the Veil Caelia bears the banner lifting souls Mirelda holds the chalice making whole One calls, one leads the soul into its rest Together they dissolve the mortal quest
You probably have the most elegant substack I have ever come across Walter, it is striking and perfectly formatted. Thank you