Hiero Nyx

Cosmic dust turned yellow by the millions of suns within. Where seas of sand call themselves Desert. The Golden Isles. Somewhere between the Nile’s end and Bohemia. In the stories, this place was always named “The Space Between Stars.” Cosmic dust turned yellow by the millions of suns within. And before it was yellow? Crumbs from neighbouring cosmic lands strewn over the Black Sea, into our borders, perhaps? And those neighbouring cosmic lands? They are no longer seen from the edges of this grid. But the stories are beginning to stand correct. In The Space Between Stars there is matter, there is life…

In the Golden Isles, somewhere between the Nile’s end and Bohemia, there is a mountain. Within this mountain there is a staircase. At the end of this staircase there is a chamber.

My name is Heiro Nyx. This is where I live.

Robert Southey once called the home a mystic circle. One that surrounds comforts and virtues never known beyond its hallowed limits. My virtuosity speaks for itself. I explore the crafts that my blood to my nerves to my hands to my world creates. I enjoy playing in the living of art. Devotion is one of my comforts. As is voyaging to the cavern within. This is my sacred space behind the hallowed walls, the holy limits of this home drawn here. Until now, my comforts and virtues have never been known - locked away in the name of a key made to be discovered. I write to you presently unveiling, because the time has come when my story is necessary (WHY?). This stairway to golden dimensions is all that I know as a dwelling. I leave behind a set of coordinates, climb the next mountain on the map, and this staircase appears the moment I summit. And so it is with the Speck. Some philologist of a past world would trace this as an alteration in base units of my DNA, a distorting rearrangement of chromosomes. I see it as a transmission. Direct. Definite. Through the blood. The Speck has trailed down the ancient courses, pumping and dancing its way around the body of each of my ancestors. The Speck manifests differently in each. The first name of the Egyptian Sun goddess comes from my great-grandmother, Sekmet Nyx. The brightest star in every constellation, after my aunt, Alpha Nyx. Dancer of the Isles, my cousin Nova Nyx, is said to have danced the mountains into posture. Damiana Nyx discovered the medicine language of the herbs. Wyla Nyx brought wind to the sky. Gematria Nyx turned numbers into letters back into numbers again.

And I, Heiro Nyx

I am the Storyteller. I am the warrior. I am the travelling dancer. I am the guru.

The tellings of my ancestral magic and wisdom are from old. We speak them among us only. Talk of the Speck has traveled over the Desert sands, radiating out from the millions of suns our cosmic forcefield homes. The elders have appointed me to decree the truth of the Speck, to articulate the formless, ancient language, once, and for all.

(WHY?)

So the essence of our magic can remain while beaming in an accurate fashion on those who need it.

(WHY YOU?)

The Speck settles in my hands, once it has twirled its atoms through my atoms by way of dance and light. Core components of Fire. Dance and light. And air and space. Mutable perfect spirit.

The settled Speck in my hands finds the crevice in the cobblestone wall that opens into the door. It catches the tokens that fall from the sky. It pulls the buried treasures up out of the Earth. With ease.

It is the magnet with a vibrational pull to the exciting, the benevolent, the surprises, the holy and the divine, the nectar.

I say the Speck settles in my hands but that’s the only place I can articulate. The Speck cascades within and without me. It brims my mystic biome. I am a channel cleared, made to make way, carved in the manner of a throne, for the Speck. I take on my duties as a goddess at the start of an epoch. Very seriously.

The Turning of the Hourglass occurs. We take our places with the millions of suns, lined at the edge of our cosmic land. With the deepest breath I step forward. My flesh holds firm and all that I am passes into my voice, to proclaim what my bloodline’s body has danced into creation.