Godspouse/Descend

Go To him. He is waiting.

You wave me goodbye at the boundary. Before me the rocky terrain, behind me – the forest of green, coolness and calm.

Go to him. He is waiting.

That means leaving you, I say. You smile reassuringly. No, you say, I shall never leave you. But you must go to him. His wisdom is infinite, his touch is might. Go to him, he is waiting.

I wanted to see him, I say. Two years ago. He didn’t want me then. He said it was too early. He pointed me to you.

It was early, you agree. But you’ve gone far since then – and he is pleased with you.

Pleased how? What have I done? I ask, and you smile again.

You have spoken. You speak – and openly- about us. You bring us closer to those who need us. Isn’t it enough to please us? You do what you promised- that alone is rewarding. Go to him, descend. You have nothing to fear.

I follow the rocky path towards the cave in the distance. Wide-watered river runs at its mouth, dark and alluring, cold to the touch.

Cross the water, the voice commands. Deep as the waters before me, solemn and sad, yet filled with compassion and knowledge. Cross the boundary. I am waiting.

I step into the river. One movement at a time, the water stings at first, then tingles, then- caresses. Cold turns to silky warm, only to become almost searing – yet somehow I know it is simply an illusion.

Good, the voice says approvingly. He taught you well, Gwyn. Descend now. The time has come. The wheel has turned.

The wheel has turned. Means it is time to learn again. And I am ready. Even if I think I’m not.

He greets me by the hall entrance. Tall, proud, pale, with dark hair falling down his shoulders, he is majestic and distant, as the stars, yet close as the closest friend might be.

His face seems to shine in the darkness, much like Gwyn’s, yet his eyes are the color of deep water- sapphire blue and dark green, dimmed amethyst and malachite, smoky quartz and agate. These eyes are heavily lidded, under dark and slightly curved brows, and it seems they can see your innermost thoughts.

When he speaks, they glisten, and a smile never touches his lips. His voice is quiet, yet I feel it can be thunderous if needed.

Dressed in silvery grays and blacks, he stands there, looking at me, and I feel humbled yet drawn to him. And he knows it.

The one who crossed the Annwfn, does not belong to the world of the living. If you failed, I would not have let you come here. But you have crossed the boundary. I shall lead you from here. For long or not – we shall see. But here you are – and you shall remain here until you’ve learned.

He looks at me and I feel how the surrounding hall turns and swirls before me. It spins, and all I see is his glance, bluish green, piercing, knowing.

That is Arawn, Lord of Annwfn, Lord of shadows, king of deep waters and caverns, Guardian of the Cauldron.