The Sky-Veil: Chapter 3
Hera's Highlands
Journey Across the Sky-Veil is a mythopoetic journey through a forgotten realm where the divine brushes the mortal. A nameless man awakens beneath a veil of sorrow and memory, guided by three silent goddesses across a path of signs, silence, and sacred trials. His quest is not to rise in power, but to remember his name—and the order of Being itself. This is a story of longing, wisdom, and the quiet majesty that crowns the soul.
The air was changing.
I did not notice it at first. Only when I had walked long past the fallen statues and scattered dust of the Field did I feel the shift. The mist no longer clung to my ankles. The silence no longer numbed. The Sky-Veil was lifting; thus, the light was not only brighter—but nearer. I could then see rosy Dawn ascend her throne when morning broke.
I was crossing from the Grey-Beneath into the Lands Between.
There, the Sky-Veil above began to shimmer and open. Stone paths emerged beneath my feet, worn smooth not by time, but by the pilgrimage of those who came before me. For the first time, a breeze fell upon the field in which I walked, and the trees on either side of the path on the hillsides danced with leaves rustling. They whispered secrets too sacred for language.
The path led me to the Hollow Gate.
Two towering obelisks of pale obsidian stood like sentinels, cracked and vine bound. Between them was only space. But as I stepped through, Aphrodite’s rose that I had by then placed in my tunic close to my chest, warmed—and a symbol flared to life across the dark stone: The Flame-Eye within the Circle.
I did not yet understand its meaning. But I bowed my head and passed through. On the threshold of The Hollow Gate, I read:
“Those who carry the flame shall not be consumed. But they shall be transformed.”
Beyond the gate, silver streams crisscrossed the land—rivers of light with no apparent source. I stepped over one on a stone bridge etched in spiral runes. The waters reflected more than the sky; I felt the presence of hope. I paused to breathe the air on the bridge but did not look too long.
To the east rose the jagged silhouette of the Temple of Broken Crowns, its spires leaning like weary tyrants. The wind that passed from that direction was cold—not with malice, but with the chill of power long misused.
To the west, dark groves appeared twisted into shadowed canopies—The Grove of Whispers, I had heard it called back in the Grey-Beneath. It was a place where trees held memories in leaves and breeze, or so the story was told. I would go there, but not yet.
Instead, the path curved through a wide field of golden grass. In its center, I saw a stone altar—simple, ancient. And on its face bloomed a glowing seal: The Blooming Rose over the Waters.
I knelt. The warmth of the rose’s remembrance passed through me. The wind brought a faint salt-sweet scent. And in my heart stirred the presence of the woman from the pond—the smile on the clear, fresh water.
Aphrodite-She of the Sea-Foam and Smile had passed this way.
I placed my hand upon the seal. The rose pulsed near my heart. I wept, though I could not say why. The silver streams echoed.
“What you long for is not lost. It is waiting to be remembered.”
Then, beyond the hills, something greater stirred. A rise of land so vast, it ascended—and raised the world around it. The Highlands of Majesty. I could not see the summit. A golden mist veiled it. A hush filled the air, not of emptiness, but of reverence. She was there.
Hera-She of the Ox-Eyes and Crown.
But I could not yet climb. The road curved away—into shadow. There was still a descent to be made. A parchment appeared at my feet marked, The Threefold Path. I lifted it slowly and read it.
"The lands between are marked by three: the flame that cuts through illusion, the rose that remembers, and the crown that waits hidden in silence. Only those who carry all three shall walk the mountain that cannot be climbed."
Enjoy “Hera - Highland of Majesty” from my album The Sky-Veil, available on my music site.
Purchase the album, The Sky-Veil here.
Lyrics ©Walter Emerson Adams. Music and vocals by Suno ©Walter Emerson Adams.
Hera fearful, full of great might Her land veiled in majestic light No mortal dares to journey far Where shines her throne, a silver star Hera, beyond the gate she stands Silver streams crisscrossing her lands Lakes of light reflect from no source Hold not sky, just destiny’s course To east, the Temple, broken crowns To west, dark groves twisting around The Grove of Whispers where the trees Recollect by their leaves and breeze Hera, queen, our nobility So powerful in royalty Her kingdom, a field of bright blooms The Highland of Majesty looms