Chapter Text
“Adam, closely following Nikita and the little boy – who is still firmly embraced to her like ivy round a tree – sneaks quietly into the adjacent room, trying to pass undetected by the battered horde of hooded people.
The three find themselves in a new place – unexpectedly dark and foggy I must say – and cold.
No wind, nor sun, nor moon dares to intrude within these tower’s depths (because, mind it, they are still inside the Tower), but at the same time it wouldn’t be strange to actually have the moon up there, or the wind whispering, or the sun intruding through the thick clouds and reverberating its dim light among the fog particles… because this new place is so large and airy that it’s like walking in the open, in a meadow, at dusk.
After a little while, and despite the darkness, our trio realizes they are not alone.
There’s a giant tree, in there.
It’s an oak.
It’s an ancient, majestic oak standing there in solemn silence.”
“A giant tree inside a tower?” Skye asked.
Ward nodded:
“It is a huge tower… and in a Monarch world there are no limits whatsoever.
Absurdities are typical of imaginative, fictitious, programmed worlds, where no logic nor physical laws have to be followed, anything can happen, nothing needs to happen, nothing is as it seems and the rules keep changing… remember?”
Ward paused for a moment, waiting for her to nod, then continued:
“You must know that trees are important, in the Elite’s mindset, and this is because a part of their beliefs comes from British Druidism.”
“Druidism? And what’s that, now?” Skye asked, puzzled.
“Do you remember King Arthur’s legend?” he asked.
She nodded, so he added:
“Well: Merlin, King Arthur’s counselor and wizard, was a Druid.
Halfway between magicians and priests, Druids venerated the divine essence of nature: they worshipped trees, considering them sacred and untouchable, and even believed them to be able to talk and sing…”
“Like in ‘Who framed Roger Rabbit’, the Toontown scene!” Skye interrupted him, suddenly smiling, remembering how much she laughed watching that movie.
“What?” Ward asked, dumbfounded.
“Nothing… nothing… I forgot that, while I enjoyed watching movies in cinemas, you had to fight to stay alive marooned in the middle of a forest…
Go on, please.”
He nodded and continued:
“So… what was I saying?
Ah, yes: druidic influences are the reason why trees are of great importance in Monarch Mind Control.
By the way, another legacy the Elite derived from Druidism is the lack of written documentation: while Druids were reported to have been literate, they didn’t record their knowledge in written form, both to improve mnemonic skills and to keep their sacred knowledge secret.
Everything we know about them comes from the Romans, that conquered them.
And Roman and Greek writers frequently made reference to them as practitioners of human sacrifice.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Skye asked sarcastically.
Ward scoffed and continued:
“The oak is not the only tree the Druids, and, consequently, the Monarch programmers, consider special: there are several other trees which can be placed within a Monarch slave, including the ash, the willow, the paper tree, the eucalyptus tree, the serpent tree, entire forests of singing Cedars of Lebanon, the Yggdrasil (an immense sacred tree, central in Norse cosmology), the Tree of Life and its counterpart, the Tree of Evil, and… another tree I will talk about later.
Most everything in Monarch programming is charged with a dark spiritual significance, and the programmers look for things that serve their purpose both in the real world and in the spiritual realm, to make the two so intertwined as to make them indistinguishable.
During the Elite rituals, for example, the willow branches are used as whips to ‘cleanse’ the victims: the image of a willow branch could easily trigger the memories of being punished, and this, in turn, would help hold the programming in place.
Another reason why the willow is used is that the trees in the programming are able to wrap themselves around the alters, to block them if they are going where they aren’t supposed to go: the willow, due to its natural flexibility, is easier to imagine wrapping itself around a person.
The willow tree is also traditionally known to be used in the construction of witches’ wands and brooms; it is planted around Druid and Celt graves to protect them spiritually; it is believed to have magical sexual powers better than the mighty oak… and so on.
The trees in general are well-suited for the programming, because they bud at certain times, so they naturally connect to the time rituals are to happen.
But the main reason the trees are used in the programming is that they are programs organizers.
In a Monarch system, a large number of different programs must coexist and function, so the programmers had to find a way to visually organizethem (remember that the best and most powerful memory is the visual memory): and what better structure could they find than a tree, with its trunk and roots and branches and leaves and fruits, to methodically store them?”
“Like a file system!” Skye exclaimed.
“Exactly!” Ward agreed.
“And now that Adam actually sees the oak, he starts to recall how this tree and its ramifications had gradually been put into him, throughout his body, his mind and his entire system, and stayed there for immemorable years, influencing him continuously.
He is understanding now how his very blood flowing to the beat of his heart through his body, limbs and vessels was used to reinforce the image of the oak’s sap running through the roots, the branches and the leaves’ veins.
He is understanding, now, how hardly they tried to convince him he himself was that tree…
Voices, coming from his past, start echoing in his mind like this:
‘As you breathe remember to sit erect,
and, as your spine straightens, feel the energy rising.
Now, imagine your spine is the trunk of a tree,
and from its base the roots reach down deep into the Earth,
into the center of the Earth herself.
And you can draw up force from the Earth with each breath,
you can feel the energy rising up like sap through the trunk,
you can feel the power rise up your spine,
you can feel yourself becoming more alive with each breath.
And, from the crown of your head, you have branches
that sweep up and back down to touch the Earth.
You feel the power burst from the crown of your head
and feel it sweep through the branches
until it touches the Earth again,
making a circle,
making a circuit,
returning to its source.’”
“Ugh, what an ugly image this is, of having branches coming out of your head!” Skye exclaimed, disgusted.
“It’s like growing horns!”
“Yeah…” Ward mumbled.
“Horns that roll up on themselves… in spirals… and then go down, to the ground…
Like Satan’s.”
Ward’s voice was barely audible, but clear enough to send chills down Skye’s spine: she suddenly remembered that she, too, saw the Master of Hell just like that, with giant horns going down, spiraling, to the ground, in Ward’s memories, during their common dream on the island…
Ward, chasing away these bad memories, continued:
“The trees put into a slave are designed to last for the slave’s entire life.
The fruits and leaves (programs) that are placed upon them are to last for a lifetime too, and the slave knows it.
Engulfed into this new awareness, Adam feels himself suddenly overwhelmed by the tree’s eerie might, so much so that the breath almost stops in his throat.
Tall and imposing like a sentinel in the shadows, the oak’s gnarled form exudes on him an aura of latent potency that transcends the passing of centuries, while its extraordinary firmness, granted by its formidable and steadfast girth and its entwined roots digging deep into the earth, almost chokes him…
Its trunk, that bears, etched in the rugged bark, the scars of the touch of time like a millennial tapestry, grates his insides, while a symphony of whispers, the echoes of too many lost souls, tortures his ears, singing its lament within the tree’s hollows, where so many shameful secrets are confined…
There’s no sun to ignite the oak’s foliage with golden hues, nor the moon to grace its crown with a silvered nuance.
The oak’s leaves, like tattered cloaks of ghostly lore, whisper tales of sorrow, silent witnesses to a realm beyond the common grasp, where spirits linger and memories clasp and Adam almost falls on his knees, clutching his head and his ears with his hands, haunted by those voices and the remorse they evoke.
But, amidst this haunting appearance and dark allure, a beauty lingers, somber and obscure…
Even in darkness there’s a poignant grace, where the creepy oak weaves its enchanted embrace: beneath its shadow, near its feet, white night flowers stay, dancing a spectral ballet.”
“Are there… flowers at the oak’s feet? Am I understanding correctly?” Skye asked, trying to unravel Ward’s rhymes to catch the basic concepts.
“Yes, there are.
And they are there for a reason.
They are there, because flowers can regenerate the tree.
They are a fail-safe.
If you were thinking of uprooting the oak to free Adam from his programming, I’m afraid this will not be sufficient for deprogramming him, because the flowers are made of deeper generational material and they will regenerate the tree.
Of course, the flowers in a Monarch System are used, like the trees, in many other ways: sunflowers are used as elevator shafts, because one can jump into their center and go down the stem to reach a lower level; wildflowers such as the poppies are used as hypnotic triggers to put an alter into deep trance… and so on. The only limit is the programmers’ imagination, and, since they have been handing down their secrets for centuries, you can only fathom what variability there might be.
But I cited the flowers to draw your attention to another thing: there is something else at the oak’s feet.
In fact, among the protruding roots, Adam notices a mother-of-pearl box.”
“A box?” Skye asked, fearing she misunderstood.
“Do you remember the sloping conduit that surrounded the onyx table perimeter in the other room?” Ward continued.
“Yes, the one that prolonged itself on the floor and, from there, towards the wall, where a little hole allowed it to trespass and go into the adjacent room…
This room, in fact.” Skye observed.
“Exactly.” Ward confirmed.
“Well… it runs just into this box.
While Adam, regaining himself after he saw the beauty of the flowers, is racking his brains to find some logical explanation to this, he assists to an unsettling sight: crimson rivers flow slowly, collecting in the box the essence of feline prowess.”
“What??” Skye asked, almost losing herself again, among Ward’s flowery words.
“The tiger’s blood is slowly flowing along the conduit and is now gathering in the box beneath the tree” Ward explained, dryly.
And then he continued, with an inspired attitude:
“ ‘No prowling winds can stir this stagnant air,
yet the oak quivers, as if sensing a spectral flare:
its branches stretch, embracing the macabre trove,
absorbing the power, the fearsome essence of its wove.
Within this eerie fusion, the oak finds its plight,
nourished by the blood, a haunting delight.
Its leaves shimmer with an otherworldly sheen,
as energy courses through its veins, unseen.’
Those are the words Adam hears echoing in his mind, coming from his obscure past.
Is their meaning clear to you?
Do you understand?” Ward asked.
Skye paled, but said nothing.
He continued:
“The tree is sustained, is nourished by the blood.
Now, it is the blood of an animal sacrifice, but it was meant to be a human sacrifice.
A human child sacrifice!”
“Oh, my God!” Skye exclaimed, shivering.
But, after a moment, she added with an increasingly angry voice:
“But… why the blood, of all things?
Why is the damn blood always involved in such rituals???
I don’t understand!
Are they some sort of… vampires?
Are all the stories, and legends, and movies, and even tv series about vampires representing something… fathomable???”
“The blood is the eternal life force” Ward stated solemnly.
“In Genesis it is written: ‘Life is in the blood’.
In Leviticus it is said: ‘I have said to the Israelites: you must not eat the blood of any creature, because the life of every creature is its blood; anyone who eats it must be cut off.’.
And there’s a reason if that particular prohibition… ‘you must not eat the blood’… is written down so clearly.
I’ll give you a hint: it has nothing to do with blood transfusions” he said, referring to the prohibition of receiving blood transfusions commonly imposed by Jehovah’s Witnesses on their followers.
Ward left those words dangling in the air.
Skye considered them for a moment and then, on all pins and needles, blurted out:
“Come on, Ward! You can’t really believe those words are to be intended literally!”
“Sorry to burst your bubble but… the blood represents a too powerful tool, in the occult world, to be left aside.” he retorted.
“The Elite kings, that have transcended good and evil and are living selfish gods, practice human blood sacrifices on a regular basis. And there are also rumors circulating about blood used as an immortality elixir.”
Skye didn’t say anything, but the word ‘adenochrome’ echoed eerily in her mind.
Ward continued:
“About the power of blood, Thomas told me once the story of a boy that started to be vexed by demons after ingenuously attending a blood ceremony in his infancy. He underwent years of exorcisms, but no one could free him from those vexations, until one day he met a strong priest that took him to heart and decided not to let him go until he managed to exorcize him. The priest insisted and persisted praying on him for days and days, relentlessly, until he finally managed to free the young man.
After some time, the young man found out that the woman who performed the blood ceremony on him years before, and lived halfway around the world, had died the very day he was settled free.
It was necessary for her to die, to break up the blood oath!
The blood pacts are SO strong!”
“This is terrifying!” Skye commented.
Ward reinforced the message:
“I repeat: the blood is the eternal life force and that’s what keeps the mighty oak alive.”
“Ok: but why the box full of blood is kept among the tree’s roots?” Skye asked.
“It comes from an ancient legend: the legend of Lilith.” Ward answered.
“Lilith? I never heard this name…” Skye said, questioningly.
“Lilith is a female figure in Mesopotamian demonology and Judaic mythology.
In Mesopotamian religion, Lilith is a female demonic figure residing in the trunk of a willow and bringing with her wind, storm, misfortune and death.
In Hebrew-language texts the term ‘Lilith’ is translated as ‘night creature’, ‘night monster’, ‘night hag’, or ‘screech owl’: she is envisioned as a dangerous demon of the night, sexually wanton, who steals male babies in the darkness. In these texts, Lilith is presented as Adam’s first wife who escapes from him and takes refuge in the Red Sea. According to the story, having been created simultaneously by God and from Adam’s same clay, Lilith claimed to have the same rights as him, which, however, were denied.”
“Same rights about what?” Skye asked, curious.
Ward hesitated for a pinch of a second, then answered, slyly:
“It seems Lilith didn’t appreciate Adam’s sexual habits”.
“What?” Skye asked, baffled.
Sniggering Ward answered:
“He always wanted to be on top, due to an alleged superiority, while she wanted to be on top sometimes, too.
She simply proposed to reverse the positions, to attest the equality between the two of them, but Adam always refused.”
Skye remained stunned, so Ward added, half winking and half grinning:
“Don’t worry: I don’t have this kind of biases…”
Skye blushed, but quicky recovered and decidedly retorted:
“Good to know!”
Ward smiled maliciously, but continued:
“So, ancient texts exist where we read that Eve was, de facto, a second choice, sort of, and, honestly, there are some obscure passages in Genesis that may lead to think of another woman before Eve.
In the first chapter we read: ‘God created the man in image of Himself, in the image of God he created him, male and female He created them.’
So, a man and a woman were already there.
Why, then, in the second chapter is it described the creation of another woman, from one of Adam’s ribs?
And do you remember what Adam said when he saw Eve? ‘This time she is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh!’
It is evident: in these lines there is a repression.”
“Ok. But you haven’t yet explained the relationship between blood and trees…” Skye recalled Ward to order.
“Oh, yes, you’re right.
When Lilith leaves the earthly paradise and takes refuge in the Red Sea, she, mating with Asmodai, a biblical demon, creates an infinite generation of demons called ‘Lilim’.
One day, in a fit of fury, Lilith dashes her newborn son’s head against a rock, killing him.
In these cases, we normally say that the earth cries out to God for revenge for the innocent blood shed.
In Satanism this is reversed: they say that the blood of Lilith’s son cried out to Satan for revenge and that this is true for shed blood in general. This means that, for them, shed blood is a link to Satan himself.
Lilith’s son blood was recollected in a box and put among the roots of a tree and this is why this image is used in Monarch.
The same happened with Adam: inside the box was originally put the blood of the first male child he was forced to sacrifice.
This is what gives life and force to the tree that runs through Adam’s System, and it is extremely powerful.”
Ward stopped talking after this macabre revelation, and it seemed he had suddenly aged 10 years.
Skye’s face in the meanwhile had turned grey.
Ward, recollecting himself, concluded his narration fortunately on a positive note:
“This is why it is very significant that Adam opposed the child blood sacrifice, before, and decided to fight to save the little alter-boy!
This action, this decision broke the blood oath, in the precise moment he saved the little boy in his mind.
This represented a crucial part in Adam’s journey towards freedom.”
After that, they remained in silence.
“You were right when you told me we’d hit the bottom of the abyss on this journey” Skye commented in a whisper, after a while.
Ward nodded with a gloomy face.
“I remember as it was now, what toll took on me what I did to Thomas, when I threw him down the well.
I, too, was forced to sacrifice him.
Thanks to God, I managed to save him, in the end…
But this act, this trauma ruined my life.
Adam is starting to feel the same remorse as me, but much, much worse.
And this is another very delicate turning point, on his path to freedom.”