This week we go further into the storyline of William Harkwood and his family’s secret. In this item, we learn about William’s initiation. What sort of experiences did he go through while being initiated? This week we go further into the storyline of William Harkwood and his family’s secret. Keep reading down below to find out more.
About Revelation Antarctica
Written by Gordon Keirle-Smith, Revelation Antarctica is a book rich in provocative content and rich visuals designed to entice your imagination and guide you through a journey that will make you question humanity’s origins, the impact of the Moon on human behaviour, the existence of a highbred elite wanting to keep humanity under control, among other interesting topics such as reincarnation and mediumship. In a partnership with The Wellbeing Blogger, Gordon Keirle-Smith has been publishing and sharing items of his awesome book here on the blog and to which you can find hyperlinks to here.
This week’s item:
– 11 –
William returns to his room in the West Wing of Harkwood Hall at 2 a.m., after the most harrowing experience in his life.
He is perspiring, his breathing coming in short, shallow gasps and his hands clammy and hot.
He staggers to the bed, sits down and closes his eyes, willing himself to breathe deeply and slowly, pushing everything he has heard and experienced in the last two hours back into the shadows.
Little by little, his heartbeat slows, his breathing becomes more regular and the feeling of panic subsides… Until he feels he can safely open his eyes and take in the reassuring normality of his room, his own personal sanctum.
Sanctum! The word jars in his mind, briefly reawakening a wave of dread… but he masters it quickly and decides there is only one way to lay the ghosts of this experience to rest.
He reaches under his bed, draws out a small briefcase, opens it and takes out his journal. This is the book in which he has recorded all his experiences and observations of happenings at Harkwood Hall since he was twelve years old.
He begins a new entry:
Tuesday, March 21
Towards the end of yesterday afternoon, within the space of about one hour, at least ten cars arrived in front of the main entrance to Harkwood Hall, each one carrying one or two men. They all appeared to be in a hurry and had covered heads, making it impossible to identify any of them from my window on the third floor.
I soon realised their arrival must be connected with the “Initiation” my father told me would be taking place that evening. A ceremony which would bring me directly into the “Ninth Circle”, a great honour reserved for “Direct Bloodline Descendants” only. He refused to elaborate, saying he could only share such knowledge with me when I was “One of Them”.
As arranged, I went down to the main hallway just before midnight, wearing the long white cotton gown he had given me earlier in the evening. He also told me not to wear anything beneath it.
My heart was thumping as the chimes of midnight rang out from the bell tower. As the last note faded away, I heard a door behind me open. I turned to see my father coming towards me, his bearded face set in stone. He was wearing a gown identical to my own, except it was black. He was also wearing a belt, from which hung a folded black scarf and a silver sword decorated with intricate, swirling engravings.
He made signs indicating I should turn around and face the Eastern corridor. I did as he asked and sensed him coming up behind me. In a second, he had taken the black folded scarf from his belt and wrapped it around my eyes, securing it firmly behind my head.
I felt myself teeter in the sudden darkness, but my father’s firm hand on my shoulder steadied me.
He applied pressure indicating I should move forwards. For what seemed like an age, we progressed along the Eastern corridor and then turned left, right, then left again. I very soon had absolutely no idea of where we could possibly be…
We came to a stop. I heard the voices of two other men speaking with my father in a language I couldn’t understand… A door creaked open…
At last, my father spoke to me, or rather whispered into my ear.
“We are about to go down a flight of steps. There are twenty-seven of them. Then we come to a corridor and nine yards further on we will reach the entrance of the Temple on your right. Just before you enter, the symbol of the Initiate will be drawn on your forehead.”
I shuffled forwards, gingerly stretching my foot forward and downwards into empty space. A second later, I made contact with the first step. Steadied by my father’s firm hand on my shoulder, I brought my other foot forward and was then able to descend the twenty-seven stairs with relative ease.
The sound of footsteps behind us indicated the other two men were following. As soon as we reached the bottom of the stairs, one of them stepped up to me and, as my father had said, drew something on my forehead.
The corridor smelt musty and old, but a few seconds later, I became aware of something different – a fragrance that became thicker and heavier with each step we made. Until we had covered the nine yards, turned to the right and stepped into what felt like a much larger space, full of the sweet, smoky fragrance.
The moment we crossed the threshold into the “Temple”, the chanting began. Deep, bass voices intoning strings of rounded vowel combinations, every one ending on a dark downbeat. The reverberation indicated the “Temple” must be of grand proportions.
Suddenly the chanting stopped.
The silence was palpable. Broken only by what sounded like sputtering candles, the barely perceptible swish of moving garments and… Something else. A random noise. A stifled whimper silenced by a dark, dull sound.
The voices broke in again, loud and dominant. Successions of rising and falling cadences. Always ending on the downbeat, as before.
These patterns ceased, giving way to one voice intoning verses in a strange, harsh tongue, repeating again and again something sounding like “Tod. Tod youba Tod…”
“Repeat those words.” My father’s urgent voice ordered next to my right ear. “Let everyone hear it. Now!”
“Tod Youba Tod,” I said.
“TOD YOUBA TOD” I declaimed, hearing the echoes of my voice reverberating in the space around me.
I suddenly felt someone coming up behind me and, in one swift movement, lifting my long, white garment up and over my head, leaving me totally naked, vulnerable, exposed… to those in the Invisible Assembly all around me.
“So shall it be,” came the voice from in front of me. “So shall we live forever. Are you, William, neophyte, prepared to drink of newborn life to be a power to the Bloodline and a directive in our supremacy before your investment with the black robe of initiation? “
“I shall do, I shall do…!” My father’s hissed into my ear.
Then, something very, very extraordinary occurred.
Suddenly, I could see. Through my own eyes from within myself, looking out at the “Temple”, those present… the triangular altar… And – at the same time – I could see myself from outside, naked in front of the hooded figures standing in a semicircle. I could also see my father, urgently whispering into my ear, urging me to say, “I shall do… do…”
When suddenly a new figure appeared. A new figure I realised only I could see or hear. Humanoid in form… but with the wings of an angel. Higher power personified. Radiant… Reaching far beyond the darkness of this closed stifling circle…
“Deny,” the angel said. “Look to the altar and what they would have you drink… to be one of them forever…”
In an instant I saw the altar and what was on it. I saw the knife. The chalice. Felt the malevolent power…
The angelic invocation sounded once again.
“Deny… and declare, ‘I shall not do…’ three times.
“Are you, William, our neophyte, prepared to drink of newborn life to be a power of Bloodline and a directive in our supremacy before your investment with the black robe of initiation?”
My resolve was resolute. I had never felt anything so strong, so definitive.
“That… I shall not do,” I declaimed as the vision faded back into the darkness of my occluded vision. “I shall Not do… I shall NOT do…!
A wind seemed to blow through the buried “Temple” at these words. I heard my father growl behind me… hiss… snarl like an animal…
A whimper came from the altar…
The empty chalice toppled, smashing into a hundred pieces on the Druids’ blocks of stone.
“What is this?” Lord Harkwood spat into my sightless ear (How could HE possibly be my father?). “What have you done to us???”
The rest was chaos. Uproar. Someone roughly covering me again with my “white robe of innocence” as I heard them call it… Some even called for another sacrifice, but my father silenced them with assurance that the “right path” would be found in the fulfilment of time…
The rest is very vague. Being unceremoniously bundled back to my room. The blindfold torn away. The white robe ripped from my back by angered men as my father tried to protect me, even though I was guilty of the worst betrayal imaginable…
Once we were alone and the others had retreated, he spoke to me with tears in his voice and agony in his heart.
“You have spurned the black robe of the Elite,” he said. What you have done this night could signify the end of twenty Harkwood generations… The end of our supremacy… They will give you one more chance. Indulgence for your youth. But it will be your only chance… Our only chance.”
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