Lucy and the Veiled Truth E-Book

Anya Kaldek

• Herausgeber: Ayna Verlag
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Serie: Waves of Time Trilogy
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 211

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Are There Other Realities? Are you as free as you think, or is someone else pulling the strings? And are you aware of all your gifts? In Spain, with the old master Aramis, Lucy gained insight into the mysteries of our reality and her inner being. But back in Germany, she quickly realizes that this alone is not enough to navigate the challenges of these times. The world seems to be falling further out of balance. When a mysterious threatening letter appears, it becomes clear: to move forward, she must go back. Back to Spain! There, she ascends the steps of consciousness, discovers the necessity of a double awakening, and learns about the superpower of cosmic laws. A stay in the forests of the Sierra Nevada turns her life around. In this healing realm of nature, she comes closer to her own true nature. But dark revelations from behind the curtains of the grand world stage challenge her to remember who we, as humans, truly are. Fascinating. Inspiring. Illuminating. The Times of Change Trilogy is an invitation for you to see the world through different eyes. This story has the power to transform your life and your perception of reality! "The solutions for a harmonious life on Earth have always been here. When we look behind the veil of illusion, we discover possibilities beyond imagination." Anya Kaldek

Leseprobe

Lucy and the Veiled Truth

The Discovery of Reality

Volume 2

Edition 2025

Copyright © Anya Kaldek

All rights reserved

Kapitel

England 1723

Return to the Future

The Message

Chasing the Wind

On the Other Side of the Light

The Absence of Self

Wake Up

Skywide Consciousness

Beyond the Horizon

The Language of the Universe

Forging New Paths

Journey to Higher Realms

Kendra

Restoring Order

The Embrace of the World Soul

Soul Conversations

Illusory World

The Soul of the Forest

Tell Me Your Dream

The Levels of Consciousness

Shadows of the Deep

A Lighthouse in the Storm

Behind the Scenes

Reunion

The Puppeteers

I See You

Dance of Emotions

The Vastness of the Universe

We Are Starseeds

Back to the Source

Love Is Always the Answer

Everything Flows

A Piece of Infinity

Trails of the Soul

Game Pieces

Realm of Shadows

Parallel Worlds

Light Over Shadow

Epilogue

Vita

The Journey Continues

England 1723

»They carried memories of things yet to come.«

The flickering flames of the roaring fire cast devouring shadows upon their cloaks. They formed a circle around the great bonfire, their hoods pulled far forward to conceal their faces—sixteen brothers, each clad in dark robes, adorned with gold-embroidered aprons. The elite order insignias on their sashes glinted in the firelight.

Solemnly, one by one, they drew an engraved tablet from the leather pouch at their belts and held it to their foreheads.

The master, recognizable by his ceremonial sash, stepped forward and opened a golden casket. He walked the circle of his brethren, and each of them placed their tablet into the chest.

It was decreed that the contents of the tablets must never be revealed to the people. Enlightening humanity about the true events unfolding on Earth was not in the Brotherhood’s interest. A violation of these principles was deemed dishonorable and was punished with relentless severity.

A sailing ship would carry the casket and its tablets out to sea, where they would vanish forever.

At that moment, no one foresaw that Mother Earth herself would ensure the tablets would one day be spewed forth from the depths and wash ashore on a small island in the Mediterranean. One might believe she knew that the prophecies etched into the tablets told of her fate and that of her human children.

And so, this story began.

Back to the Future

»The more you perceive, the more sensitive you become.«

My eyes are closed. The breaking waves whisper softly in my ears, and warm sunlight gently kisses me awake. Thoughts come and go, like foam-crested waves washing ashore only to be swept away again.

»Great. Now I'm hallucinating, too.«

I open my eyes. The sound of the ocean turns out to be the pattering of rain filtering through my bedroom window, and the shimmering reflections belong not to sunlight but to the headlights of passing cars. Much to my dismay, I am not lying on the sandy shores of the Spanish Mediterranean coast but in my apartment in Germany.

It’s late September. The memories of those months in Moraira, that magical coastal town, still stir within me every day.

But everyday life had ensnared me again as swiftly as a spider trapping its prey. Even on my way back from Spain, the museum’s HR department had already called. They offered me a temporary three-month contract—clearly just a pretext to ensure that I handed over my mysterious tablets for further research at their institution. In truth, they were only after the publicity that this "monumental archaeological discovery" had generated in the international press. That was fine by me—my bank account was as dry as a parched riverbed.

My health issues had also returned from their "vacation," creeping back one by one. My stomach was acting up again, and the tinnitus had resumed its wild, gleeful buzzing in my ears. I had hoped I had left all that behind.

And yet, something had changed. It felt strangely difficult to reintegrate into the system. There was something unsettling about living in a society where being "busy" was equated with being productive, when, in truth, life should be about cherishing and experiencing the journey itself.

I had become hypersensitive to everything around me, as if seeing through a magnifying glass and hearing through an amplifier. There was the intrusive advertising, trying to seduce us at every turn with its relentless consumerist lure. Then there were the hollow promises of so-called experts and politicians, spewing their rhetoric across endless talk shows. And the mind-numbing entertainment industry, designed to distract us from real life—bread and circuses for the masses. Worst of all, the news. No matter the channel, no matter the newspaper, it was all the same, the same narrative, feeding us the same dubious content. Whenever I read the headlines, I recalled something Aramis had once told me:

»Look at the world through the eyes of your heart, and you will feel what is true.«

Ah, Aramis. If only you were here to guide me with your wisdom.

On the floor, a pile of unopened mail from the past few days lay scattered. On top was the newspaper article Eloy had published about our discovery—the mysterious tablets. "A Sensational Find with Messages for the Future"—that was the title. There was even a photo of me handing the tablets over to the museum. The caption beneath it read: "Does the Future of Humanity Lie Within Our Thoughts?"

As for the so-called "messages for the future," I had expected a bigger stir. But apparently, this news couldn’t compete with the bold, capitalized headlines of the mainstream press. Too insignificant. Who wants to read about how we could "save the world through positive thoughts," anyway? On the contrary—I was ridiculed by a few internet trolls who questioned my grasp on reality. Pah. I don’t suffer from a loss of reality. I seek it.

Eloy hadn’t been surprised by the public reaction. He was used to the fact that people were far more drawn to hatred, brutality, and bare facts. A report on ancient prophecies just wasn’t thrilling enough.

Eloy… My heart always does a little leap whenever my thoughts drift toward him. As if it wants to jump right into his arms. Our time in Spain feels like a dream from another life. Did I make the right choice by returning to Germany? It wasn’t a decision against Eloy, nor against Spain. I just wasn’t ready yet. Something inside me whispered that I might have another purpose to fulfill.

How true that would turn out to be—I had no idea.

The Message

»Fear is a wake-up call. Face it with courage.«

I absentmindedly shuffle through the stack of unopened mail until a dark envelope catches my eye. It is matte black, like a mourning letter. Tension grips me as I sit up straight. Strange—no sender. Carefully, I open the envelope and pull out the letter:

If one sees ME,

Then one does not see me.

If one does not see me,

Then one sees me.

But if I see YOU, it is already too late.

If you go public,

You will become visible, so remain in the shadows.

A chill runs down my spine. My hand trembles as I let the letter sink onto my lap. I turn it over, examining the printed words as if they might reveal something about the sender.

Suddenly, a loud, metallic ringing fills the room. My body jerks in shock. It takes me a moment to realize—it’s my doorbell. Who could that be? Cautiously, I open the door. Before me stands a man with a friendly smile, dressed in ripped jeans, his bright red curls wild and unruly.

»Tom,« I exclaim, a mixture of surprise and relief washing over me.

»Lucy, so good to see you! You look… well, how do you even look? Are you okay?« Without a second thought, I throw my arms around him, and a rush of emotions wells up—joy, despair, and everything in between.

»Hey, hey. Girl, what’s going on?«

»Oh, it just feels good to see an honest face. Come on in.«

Tom follows me into the kitchen. »Coffee?«

»Gladly.«

We sit down at the small table.

»So, what’s wrong?« Tom looks at me with concern.

»Oh, Tom… Ever since I came back, I feel like I’m living in a parallel universe. I struggle to settle in. I never realized before how suffocating and draining life here can be. Every morning, my alarm wrenches me from sleep, completely out of sync with my internal clock. Then comes the depressing subway ride, surrounded by people lost in their screens, their eyes glued to smartphones like a mouse frozen before a snake’s strike. My colleagues’ idea of a highlight is the mindless evening TV routine.« I sigh. »I miss Spain. The sun, the night sky over Moraira. The long evenings with Aramis and all of you.«

Tom watches me with quiet understanding. I am grateful for his presence.

»When I left Spain in the spring, I was overflowing with energy, inspired by my conversations with Aramis. It was such a magical time.«

Tom listens patiently, without interrupting, without offering advice or trying to fix me. I love it when people simply listen—except when it comes to Aramis.

Memories of my dreams in Moraira resurface—the ones where I learned about my inner light. A fleeting smile crosses my lips, yet those dreams and the insights they brought seem to be fading, as if shrouded by an invisible veil. Day by day, another layer dims their clarity.

»I want to understand how to internalize everything I’ve learned. How to hold on to my positive energy. How to keep my light shining. Right now, I just wish I could walk into Aramis’ garden and ask him for guidance.« I place a hand over my heart, feeling the ache of longing for the old wise man who had turned my world upside down.

»Then do it. Come with me to Moraira.«

Surprised, I look at Tom as if he’s just suggested the impossible. Or… was it possible?

Only now do I realize that I haven’t even asked him why he’s here.

»What are you doing in the city, anyway?«

»I had some work nearby, so I thought I’d drop by. Seems like that was a good decision.«

Suddenly, I remember the letter. I jump up to show it to him.

»Look at this. I got this in the mail.«

Tom reads the message. »What the hell? Who sent this?«

»No idea. There’s no sender.«

»That’s really weird.«

»I know. I’ve already seen nasty comments online, but a letter sent to my private address… that’s not funny.«

»Someone is trying to scare you.«

I stare at Tom. »But why?«

»No clue. There are a lot of crazy people out there. Come to Moraira with me, and we’ll talk to Aramis about it.« Tom looks at me expectantly. I shake my head.

»I can’t just drop everything and leave overnight.«

Chasing the Wind

»The more I recognize what truly shines, the more meaningless that which blinds becomes.«

Alright, I admit it—it didn’t take long to convince me. I only had to pack a few things and inform the museum of my new address. We called Aramis on the way to let him know I was coming to Moraira.

Now I’m sitting in the car next to Tom, heading toward Spain. Crazy. To my delight, I managed to convince him to take my Volvo instead of cramming ourselves into an overcrowded airplane. We take turns driving, which gives me a chance to actually enjoy the scenery this time. »I can’t wait to be back in Moraira, to see Aramis and Eloy.«

»Eloy isn’t in Moraira.«

»What? Why? But… where is he?« A small pang pierces my heart.

»No idea. He set sail some time ago and took off without a word.«

»Oh.« I try to mask my disappointment.

»So what are your plans in Moraira?«

»I want to look at some houses and apartments. I’m thinking about moving there.«

I glance at Tom in surprise. »Wow, that’s big news. Any particular reason?«

»Germany is just too stressful. The relaxed lifestyle down there suits me better.«

Yes, that makes sense for Tom. I steal a sideways glance at him in admiration. Would I dare to do the same? Just leave everything behind? Not that I have much to leave, but exchanging familiar worries for the unknown is something else entirely. My gaze drifts dreamily toward the horizon stretching out before us.

Six hours ago, we crossed into Spain, and I can feel the tension of the past weeks melting away. My shoulders loosen, my stomach relaxes. I take a deep breath and feel life flowing into me.

»You already look much more relaxed.« Tom casts a brief look at me. The low sun bathes the pine treetops in gold, illuminating the towering mountains that occasionally grant me glimpses into the vast landscape beyond.

»I feel better already, but it seems so unreal that I’ll be seeing Aramis soon.«

My pulse quickens with excitement. As we near our destination, I shift impatiently in my seat. Then, at last, Tom turns the car into a small side street. I see the sign above Aramis’ quaint inn: Entre los Mundos. I’m back.

We pass under the archway into the courtyard. Everything is just as I left it months ago. Small earthen vases filled with flowers sit on the wooden tables arranged around the patio. Strings of lights and lanterns cast a soft glow. The intoxicating scent of lemon and orange trees fills the air, and in the center of the garden stands an ancient olive tree, its gnarled trunk a silent witness to time. From the windows of the inn, the flickering glow of countless candles spills into the night. A few guests sit enjoying the balmy evening with wine and tapas.

Then, a deep voice behind me says, »Lucy, you’re here.«

I turn around and meet the gaze of those striking blue eyes that have always fascinated me. His wild white hair falls over his shoulders, reminiscent of Dumbledore from Harry Potter. Some people seem to carry peace within them, radiate light, and are simply born with kindness in their hearts.

»Aramis.« Tears of joy well up in my eyes as he pulls me into an embrace. Like a child drinking in the pure security of a parent’s arms, warmth flows through my body. He holds me at arm’s length, studying me in the light. »Come, you need a good meal. Take your bags upstairs. Lucy, you’ll have your old room again. And Tom, yours is at the end of the hallway on the first floor.« Aramis pulls two keys from his pocket. »I’ll prepare something to eat in the meantime.«

Everything reminds me of my first night here. A feeling of coming home washes over me.

Tom and I savor the food Aramis has prepared. The last of the guests leave the courtyard, and soon, even Tom bids goodnight. He has an early appointment with a real estate agent tomorrow.

The crickets chirp louder than they did in spring, and the stars shine even brighter overhead. Everything feels more intense. Aramis joins me at the table with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

»Oh, Aramis. It feels so good to be back. I had such a hard time adjusting to my old life in the city. Everything felt so foreign.«

»A wise man once said: The more real you become, the more unreal the world appears.«

»Who was the man?«

»John Lennon.«

»Oh yes, he was a truly genuine soul. He had an extraordinary radiance. I’m afraid my light has already gone out again.«

Aramis shakes his head. »No, no. It hasn’t disappeared. It has always been within you and will always be there. Sometimes, it dims a little when the world around us grows darker.«

»Yes, that makes sense. Until recently, I wasn’t fully aware of how much is out of balance on our planet. But now I see it everywhere, all the time. Our systems seem so sick to me—our failing education system, the unjust financial system, politics controlled by lobbyists. And then there’s the division among people. Everyone insists their perspective is the only right one: for some, it’s about race, for others, religion, and for many, it’s about political ideology. Everywhere you look, there’s separation.«

»One might think that’s intentional, wouldn’t they? A divided people is easier to control.

The moment a person is born, they are given a kind of code. They receive a name, a religion, a nationality, and a racial identity. And even though they never chose any of it, they spend their whole lives defending it.«

»You’re right. That’s an incredible realization. I’ve never looked at it that way before. I see so many things differently now.«

Aramis nods. »When your perception of the world shifts, it’s a sign that you’ve set deep internal processes in motion.«

»Okay. But how do I stay positive despite all of this? How do I keep my light shining?«

Aramis raises an eyebrow and looks deep into my eyes. »If a dragon wants to fly, it must face the wind. The higher you wish to soar, the deeper you must look into the mysteries of the world.«

A warm hum escapes my throat. Oh, how I’ve missed these conversations with Aramis. I raise my glass to him. »I drink to my continued journey into the mysteries of the world. Please, be my co-pilot once again as I navigate these storms of discovery.«

A knowing sparkle flickers in Aramis’ eyes, and a smirk plays on his lips. »It will be my pleasure to accompany you on your path and give you the wind beneath your wings.«

I smile at him in contentment. »Wonderful. Where do we start?«

»By getting some rest. Everything essential arises from stillness. First, recover.«

Only now do I notice my exhaustion. I nod to Aramis. »Agreed. One more question—do you know where Eloy is?«

»»Eloy… He set sail some time ago. I can’t tell you where he is or when he’ll return.«

A sharp pang tightens my chest. »I see. Well, goodnight then.«

My disappointment must be plain on my face. Aramis watches me as I head into the house, his gaze lingering until I disappear inside.

On the Other Side of the Light

The antique desk, made of heavy oak, lay in the dim half-light of the room. The glow of a desk lamp illuminated a stack of envelopes—each one deep black, addressed, and stamped. A man in a hunter-green flannel suit carefully placed the letters into a worn leather bag.

In the hallway, he allowed himself a final glance in the mirror, smoothed back his slicked hair, and pressed a fervent kiss onto his signet ring. Malice was etched into his features as he stepped out of the house in the affluent suburb.

»»Let’s see if we can stir up a little fear and dread.«

Lotus with Unalome – The symbol represents enlightenment and embodies your path to freedom. The curved line illustrates life’s challenges, rising from the mud to bloom into the magnificent creation you were always meant to be.

The Absence of Self

»You don’t always have to move forward. Arriving is enough.«

The room is just as cozy as I remembered. The red sofa beneath the window beckons me to sink into its embrace. With my legs draped over the armrest, I gaze up at the stars. My thoughts drift back to the threatening letter with its strange riddle. Who would do such a thing? And what does this person want from me? A shiver runs through me at these questions. But the constant murmur of the waves has a soothing effect, lulling me into sleep.

*

The wind is fierce, whipping through my long hair. The night is pitch black, and apart from the rushing air, an eerie silence envelops me. A faint glow surrounds me—I can barely make out my arms and legs, but beyond that, there is only darkness.

Black, endless stillness. Then, a whisper, close to my ear: »Lucy, awaken. It is time to see.«

*

My heart pounds as I jolt upright. It takes a moment to recognize my surroundings. I’m at Aramis’ inn. It was just a dream. Exhaling in relief, I let myself sink back into the pillows.

What is it with these dreams? They unsettle me. And yet, they awaken a curiosity. What is the darkness? What am I supposed to wake up to? And… who is speaking to me?

Eventually, my thoughts drift into sleep once more. The morning sun lures me out of bed with its warm rays. I feel an irresistible pull toward the beach.

The coastline is nearly deserted. The sun scatters a thousand tiny flashes of light across the waves. I inhale the salty air deeply, letting it fill my lungs. My feet sink into the soft sand. Holding my sandals in one hand, I stroll through the gentle surf. The water is pleasantly warm. For the first time in a long while, I feel truly alive. There is something magical about the sea, as if it cleanses my thoughts and expands my mind. The sea is not the answer—but here, you forget the question.

What is also expanding, however, is my stomach, which loudly reminds me that it’s time to eat.

The colorful breakfast buffet in the courtyard is set beneath the great olive tree, surrounded by guests indulging in the morning feast. I help myself to the fragrant bread rolls and choose the farthest table, where I can observe the scene around me. My gaze lingers on the lemon trees. Were they this full of fruit in spring? Along the house, wooden boxes overflow with fresh herbs. The scent of thyme, rosemary, and marjoram drifts through the garden, reaching my seat. It truly is a charming place.

Yet, few of the guests seem to appreciate the beauty around them. Everyone is lost in their own little world. A middle-aged couple sits across the patio. I marvel at how the woman manages to eat and talk without pause, while her partner remains glued to his phone, occasionally nodding absentmindedly to feign interest. She doesn’t seem to mind that he clearly isn’t listening.

Nearby, a family with a young boy is enthusiastically planning their day. After yesterday’s mountain biking tour, today will be kayaking, and the day after, a visit to an amusement park. They are so caught up in their itinerary that they don’t notice how much food they are piling onto their plates—nor do they spare Aramis a kind word as he attentively refills their drinks.

To my left, an older, stout man sits alone at a table. You’d think, with no distractions, he might savor his meal—but I barely see him chew. He seems to swallow each bite whole. And there are many bites.

One by one, the guests leave their tables. I relish the growing silence, the solitude. The only sounds now are the clinking of dishes and, from above, the sweet trilling of a bird.

»He sings beautifully, doesn’t he?« Aramis asks, setting a cup of tea in front of me as he sits down.

»Oh yes, he does. What surprises me is that none of the other guests seem to notice him. People are so absent. Was I like this when I first came here?«

»Mmm, well, you’ve become more attuned to the vibrations around you. Your intuition is sharper, and you are more aware of the energies that surround you. That can be exhausting when you feel the energy of others too intensely.«

»Oh yes,« I nod in agreement.

»But it can also be enriching, once you learn to perceive the frequencies of nature with both your senses and your spirit. The more centered you are, the more consciously you can respond to all energies around you.«

I nod again. »That explains why I struggle so much with my old life and react so strongly to everything around me.

I used to see solitude as a punishment, but lately, it feels like a blessing.

Why are so many people constantly absent, drifting through their days as if they aren’t at home within themselves?«

Aramis gives me an approving look. »A keen observation. Many are physically present, but their minds are caught in endless distractions. If they were forced to confront the present moment, they would be overwhelmed. Most people have never learned to do nothing. And yet, the most profound insights arise from stillness.«

»But why is everyone so distracted? And by what?«

»Partly, it is human nature. And then… there is a force that deliberately encourages it for its own purposes.«

»Wait—one thing at a time. Why is distraction part of our nature?«

»Ask yourself first: What are we distracting ourselves from?«

»I don’t know.«