Speaker 1: Calaogu Shark Media.
Speaker 2: Hello and welcome to Echoes of the Void, Episode five Threshold.
Speaker 1: The Midnight Stabilizer burns cold against my palm as Margaret
examines it under the specialized light she's set up in
the library of Blackwood Estate. We've been at this for
hours since my return from Prague, testing the crystal, comparing
it to the anchor Alexander and I created, searching for
any sign of Sullivan's deception. It's definitely a stabilizer, Margaret concludes,
setting down her magnifying glass. The crystalline structure matches the
descriptions in my grandmother's journals check alchemical work seventeenth century.
But can we trust it, I ask, voicing the question
that's haunted me since learning Novak's true identity. Margaret's expression
is grave. That's the problem. The crystal shows evidence of
having been altered. See these lines. She points to nearly
invisible fractures within the midnight surface. Something or someone has
been inside it. Sullivan's splinter of the entity, I say,
suppressing a shudder. Most likely, I pace the library anxiety building.
The dark moon is tomorrow night, less than twenty four
hours until our triangulation attempt. Could we find another solution,
something to replace the stabilizer, Margaret shakes her head. Not
in time, and nothing is effective. The Czech alchemists who
created these were working with knowledge that's been lost for centuries.
I stopped before the window, staring out at the winter
landscape surrounding Blackwood Estate. The ocean beyond is gray and restless,
reflecting my own turbulent thoughts. So we use it knowing
it might be compromised, Or we attempt to triangulation without
protection against the entity's influence. Those appear to be our options,
Margaret agrees. Unless I turned to her. Unless what Unless
we test it first during the practice exchange. My pulse quickens.
The exchange where Alexander's consciousness will temporarily inhabit my physical form.
We'd planned it for tonight anyway, as preparation for the
full triangulation. Using it to test the stabilizer's effects is logical, practical.
So why does the idea fill me with both anticipation
and dread? If the stabilizer has been altered to harm
you or interfere with the triangulation, Margaret continues, the practice
exchange should reveal it. The effects would be noticeable, but
not catastrophic, since we're not attempting a full dimensional bridge.
I touched the key around my neck, feeling its familiar warmth.
Since returning to Blackwood Estate, my connection to Alexander has
strengthened again, the interference from Sullivan's ritual fading with distance.
I can sense him now, a constant presence at the
edges of my awareness, waiting weakening as the entity continues
to feed on his energy. We don't have much choice,
I say, finally, Alexander is running out of time. Margaret nods,
understanding both my concern and my determination. Then we prepare
the exchange ritual is simpler than the triangulation, but still
requires careful setup. We spend the rest of the afternoon
readying the master bedroom Alexander's bedroom for the ritual. Margaret
arranges candles in specific patterns, burns herbs that fill the
air with a sweet, otherworldly scent, and sets up a
modified version of her resonator device on the bedside table.
I place the anchor crystal on the bed where Alexander
and I shared so many dream encounters. The ceremonial knife,
cleaned and purified since its recovery lies beside it, its
blade catching the late afternoon light. The third component, the
text Alexander found in France, remains in the library, secure
in its protective box. The exchange requires just two of
the three anchors. Margaret explains. The anchor crystal and the
knife represent your connection to Alexander and his death. The
transition points between states of being. She hands me a
small vial filled with the same shimmering liquid she gave
me before the solstice ritual. Three drops under your tongue
when you're ready to begin. It will help expand your consciousness,
make room for Alexander's to temporarily coexist with yours. As
the sun sets, casting long shadows through the windows, Margaret
makes one final adjustment to the resonator. I'll monitor from
the adjacent room, She says. The exchange is intensely private,
intimate in ways that transcend physical understanding, but I'll be
close enough to intervene if something goes wrong. I nod,
suddenly nervous. The dream exchange Alexander and I shared in
Prague was profound transformative, but this will be different, real
in a way dreams can never be. His consciousness actually
inhabiting my physical form, experiencing the world through my senses
and the stabilizer. I ask Margaret indicates a small velvet
cushion she's placed on the nightstand. Keep it nearby but
not touching you initially. Once the exchange begins, if it
feels right, you can bring it into the connection. Your
instincts and Alexander's will tell you if it's safe. He
squeezes my shoulder reassuringly before leaving. Trust your resonance with him, Elise,
that's your true protection, stronger than any artifact. Alone in
the bedroom, I change into a simple white nightgown, feeling
oddly ceremonial, like a bride or a sacrifice, or perhaps both.
The anchor crystal pulses with soft light. As I sit
on the edge of the bed, the key around my
neck warms against my skin. I place three drops of
the shimmering liquid under my tongue, tasting that now familiar
flavor of starlight and ocean depths. The effect is immediate,
my awareness expanding the boundaries of the room, becoming less defined,
space between all things more apparent. I focus on the
anchor crystal, on the unique frequency that is Alexander, on
the resonance we share across the void. The resonator on
the bedside table begins to hum softly, its components rotating
in acceleration. With my deepening focus, Alexander, I call with
my mind, reaching across the thinning barrier between worlds. I'm ready.
His response comes immediately, as if he's been waiting just
on the other side of that invisible threshold. Elise, I'm here.
His presence floods my expanded consciousness, stronger than in our dreams,
more substantial than our connections through the void. I can
feel his essence approaching that liminal space where our consciousnesses
can touch. The entity knows what we're attempting, he warns,
his mental void surgent. It's fighting to hold me here.
To prevent the exchange. I focus harder, drawing on the
strength of blackwood estate itself, on the power of the
anchor crystal, on the century of connection that has bound
us across time and space. Come to me. I urge
follow our resonance, follow the path of least resistance. The
air in the bedroom seems to thicken, to charge with electricity.
The candles flicker wildly, then stabilize into unnaturally tall flames
the anchor crystals. Glow intensifies until it's painful to look
at directly, and then I feel it. The actual moment,
when the threshold between worlds thins enough for crossing, not
a full triangulation, not a permanent breach, but a temporary doorway,
just wide enough for a consciousness to slip the through
Now Alexander, I call now. Something surges through that opening,
a rush of energy, of awareness, of being that is
distinctly Alexander, yet foreign to physical reality. It enters my
expanded consciousness like a wave crashing onto shore, Powerful and overwhelming.
For a moment, there is chaos, two consciousnesses occupying a
single space, overlapping, conflicting, struggling to align. My thoughts tangle
with his memories, blur sensations amplify to near unbearable intensity.
I feel myself drowning in the complexity of it, losing definition,
losing self. Elise Alexander's voice somehow both within and separate
from me. Focus on our resonance, the perfect alignment we
found at the solstice. Let everything else fall away. I
grasp for that memory, the harmonic frequency we discovered when
our consciousness is aligned perfectly as I find it, as
I attune myself to it, the chaos begins to settle.
Our separate awareness start to organize, to find their proper
relationship to each other, not merging completely, not erasing boundaries,
but coexisting in harmonious dialogue. Yes, Alexander encourages just like
that perfect resonance. The sensation is indescribable, being simultaneously myself
and aware of another, complete consciousness sharing my mental space.
I can feel Alexander exploring this new state of being,
adjusting to the strange experience of physical form after a
century in the void. Your senses he marveled, so vivid,
so immediate. I feel his wonder as he experiences my
body's sensations, the cool air on skin, the texture of
the nightgown, the weight of gravity, the rhythm of heartbeat
and breath. His consciousness moves through my awareness like a
gentle current, touching thoughts, memories, feelings with reverent curiosity. May
I he asks his intention clear? Yes, I respond, surrendering
deeper control. And then the strangest sensation of all my
hand lifting, fingers, flexing, but moved by his will rather
than mine. Alexander experiencing physical action for the first time
in a hundred years. Using my body as his own,
he touches the anchor crystal, gasps at the dual resonance,
feeling it both from within my consciousness and through my
physical senses. Then my fingers move to the key around
my neck, tracing its shape, feeling its warmth. It's working,
he says, with wonder. The exchange is stable, stronger than
I dared hope. Emboldened by our success, I reach for
the Midnight Stabilizer on its velvet cushion. The moment my
fingertips touch its surface, guided by Alexander's will, a shock
runs through us, both not painful, but intense, like a
circuit suddenly completing. Immediately, a new awareness floods our shared consciousness,
something ancient and alien observing us from within the crystal's depths,
Sullivan's splinter, Alexander recognizes instantly, or some echo of it
embedded in the stabilizer. I feel my body tense, Alexander's
alarm resonating through our shared space. Is it dangerous? I ask,
not directly, he responds, after a moment of careful assessment.
It's a passive presence, observing, not acting. The crystal itself
works as intended, but it creates a channel between dimensions,
a very narrow one, just wide enough for observation, for
information to flow. Understanding dawns Sullivan is watching us through it,
learning our methods, our plans for the triangulation. Yes, I
consider pulling my hand away from the crystal, but Alexander
maintains our contact with it, studying the presence within. No,
he decides let him watch. The knowledge flows both ways.
I can learn from this splinter as well, understand how
Sullivan has maintained his bargain with the entity for so long.
Information we might need tomorrow night. His confidence steadies me.
I allow our shared focus to examine the stabilizer more thoroughly,
to probe the alien presence embedded within it. Alexander's century
in the void has given him insights into these entities
that I couldn't hope to match. He navigates the interaction
with practice skill. The crystal will work as promised, he confirms,
after this examination. It will protect your consciousness during triangulation
and can indeed capture the primary fragments separately. But Sullivan
has added his own modification, this observational channel, this window
between dimensions. Can we close it? I ask, not without
rendering the stabilizer useless. Its function depends on that same channel,
just repurposed. I feel our shared awareness shift as Alexander
turns his attention from the crystal to my physical form,
to the sensations of embodiment he's been denied for so long.
My hand, under his control, moves from the stabilizer to
touch my face, tracing features he's only been able to
see or touch in dreams. The sensation is extraordinary, feeling
my own skin through his perception, experiencing his wonder, and
longing through the touch. A shiver runs through me. That
is partly his reaction, partly mine, the feedback loop of
our shared consciousness, amplifying every sensation elease. His voice resonates
through me, colored with emotion too complex for words to feel, again,
to truly feel. My body responds to his presence, to
his attention with an intensity that surprises us. Both heat
builds beneath my skin, my heart rases, breath comes quicker,
the familiar stirring of desire, but transformed, elevated by our
shared awareness of it. I can feel what you feel.
He marvels experience pleasure through your senses. He guides my
hand along my neck, across my collar bone, down to
where the night gown reveals the upper curve of my breast.
Each touch sends dual waves of sensation through our shared consciousness,
my physical response and his emotional one, resonating together, amplifying
each other. It's the most intimate experience imaginable, beyond physical coupling,
beyond even the dream exchanges we've shared before. There are
no barriers between us, no separation. His desire is mine,
My pleasure is his, creating a feedback loop of sensation
that builds with each touch. May I, he asks again,
his intention unmistakable even before it forms into words. Yes,
I respond, surrendering completely to our shared experience. Under his guidance,
my hands move across my body, caressing, exploring, with the
wonder of someone rediscovering physical sensation after an eternity without it.
Each touch ignites new pleasure that ripples through our joined consciousness.
When my fingers slip beneath the nightgown to touch bare skin,
the sensation is so intense that our shared awareness momentarily
wipes out. Overwhelmed, we learn together the geography of pleasure
in this unique state. How certain touches create care cascading
reactions between our consciousnesses, How sensation can build and reflect
between us until it becomes almost too much to bear.
Its love making beyond the physical, beyond even the metaphysical
exchanges of our dreams. It's a communion of being that
transcends any ordinary understanding of intimacy. When release finally comes,
its cosmic in scale stars bursting behind my eyes, reality
itself seeming to fracture and reassemble around us. For a moment,
I lose all sense of separation, all awareness of individual existence.
There is only this perfect union, this harmonic resonance, where
Alexander and I exist as a single point of consciousness,
experiencing ecstasy from both sides simultaneously.
Speaker 2: Romance Weekly is a production of Calaroga Shark Media executive
producers Mark Francis and John McDermott. Portions of this podcast
may have been created with the assistance of Ai
Speaker 1: Calaroga Shark Media