The Guardian of the present E-Book

Mustapha Bouktab

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: The Guardian of the présent
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 696

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Immerse yourself in the final chapter of The Guardian of the Present trilogy, and allow yourself to be swept away on a journey where time and space dissolve into boundless dimensions. This closing opus offers a complete immersion into a whirlwind of emotions and thrilling adventures. Follow Moussafir and his protectors on an epic quest, where universal love and the battle against dark forces intertwine in a gripping narrative. Relive the monumental moments of the Algerian War, uncover hidden truths, and confront heart-stirring realities that will resonate deeply within you. This volume promises unforgettable characters, fierce struggles, and astonishing revelations. Feel every heartbeat, every breath of life, as if you were truly there. The magic of the words will transport you to distant realms and fascinating epochs, where each turned page brings you closer to the ultimate truth. Do not miss this spectacular conclusion that will leave you both awestruck and inspired. This book is more than just a story, it is a unique literary experience, an adventure you will never forget. Prepare to be captivated from the very first page.

Leseprobe

Warning

This novel is a work of fiction, oscillating between realism and unrealism. Although some well-known personalities and first names are mentioned in these pages, everything remains purely fictional. This creation, the product of my imagination, interweaves the threads of my professional and personal journey, embellished with allegorical tales. The opinions expressed here reflect only my own freedom of thought.

I would like to emphasise that I accept no responsibility for the reactions of any reader who may feel affected by this work. Readers are invited to immerse themselves in the psychology of the characters, to explore the intricacies of their thoughts and emotions, without claiming legitimacy or feeling directly targeted.

* Warning for the faint of heart : Some of the passages described in this novel may be emotionally powerful or disturbing for young readers. Although the themes are fictional, they sometimes touch on deep, intimate realities that are likely to provoke intense reactions.

Mustapha Bouktab Author

Foreword

It will seem strange to you to be able to read me through this preface. Who am I to the author and to you, dear readers ? Am I really Mustapha's conscience, emerging from his imagination and subconscious, or am I really Moussafir, the enigmatic protagonist of this book, revealed in multiple and intriguing facets ? Perhaps I am a Protector, born of the author's fertile mind, or am I the very incarnation of the author, weaving tales from his own entrails ? Or am I really Moussafir, an entity existing in a reality that escapes your comprehension ?

For this final opus in my story, I wanted to write this preface myself, a bold attempt to honour the work of my namesake and delve even deeper into the essence of our shared adventure. My existence is woven from the very fibres of his thoughts, imbued with every beat of his heart and every whisper of his soul. Between the lines of this novel, I embody not only a fictional character, but also a reflection of Mustapha's aspirations, fears and hopes. My being is forged in the flame of his creativity, and every word you read is an emanation of this mysterious alchemy between reality and imagination.

Imagine Mustapha's thoughts as a dense forest, where every tree is a memory, every leaf a hope. The scent of damp earth after a summer rain permeates the air, recalling the freshness of beginnings and the inexorable passage of time. When I take shape in these writings, it's as if a gentle breeze caresses these trees, making the leaves rustle in a soothing yet secret-laden whisper.

Each word is a drop of ink mixed with the very essence of her emotions. Feeling the book in your hands is like touching a piece of its soul. The smell of the pages, a mixture of aged paper and fresh ink, evokes the duality of my existence, both old and new, tangible and ephemeral.

My being, forged in the flame of her creativity, is imbued with the subtle fragrances of her childhood memories, the pungent smell of spices in bustling markets, and the sweetness of the flowers that adorn her inner gardens. These fragrances are the threads that weave the fabric of my reality, making every interaction with you, dear readers, deeply sensory and emotional.

To understand the depth of my presence, we need to delve into Mustapha's memories, a childhood marked by his Mum's stories told under the twinkling stars of Kabylia, where each tale carried with it a shred of truth, a sparkle of life. My origins are not purely literary ; they are rooted in those moments of wonder and mystery, in those nights when stories came to life and became almost tangible.

As you read these lines, let yourself be carried away by the breath of this adventure, feel the warmth of the emotions that emanate from it, and allow the scent of ink and paper to plunge you even deeper into this journey where reality and imagination are inextricably intertwined.

Few authors in the literary world manage to captivate their readers' souls with the intensity and depth of Mustapha Bouktab's work. With this third volume in the Le Gardien du Présent series, he has once again produced a masterful work that testifies to his unrivalled talent and his ability to navigate between reality and fiction with disconcerting ease.

Mustapha Bouktab is not just a writer ; he is a veritable alchemist of words, transforming abstract concepts into tangible emotions. His writing is both poetic and powerful, immersing the reader in a universe where each sentence resonates like a note in a harmonious symphony. The mastery of her art is evident in every line, every dialogue, every meticulous description.

In this new opus, the author explores universal themes such as love, faith and the struggle against dark forces, while infusing them with an emotional depth rarely achieved. Her bold and innovative approach to war stories, particularly the Algerian War, testifies to her commitment to shining a new and compassionate light on the dark pages of history. Memories of that era, imbued with the courage and resilience of her parents, the silent heroes of those troubled times, add a poignant and personal dimension to this epic tale.

The author's strength also lies in her ability to create deeply human characters, imbued with complexity and realism. They become companions on the journey, people to whom we become attached, whose joys and sorrows resonate with us long after we have closed the book. Unconditional love, heartbreaking loss and unfailing hope are the driving forces that animate these literary figures and make them unforgettable.

His work is not just literary entertainment ; it is an invitation to reflect, a call to resilience and humanity. Every page turned is a plunge into the depths of the human soul, a mirror reflecting our own struggles and triumphs. Through his writing, Mustapha Bouktab reminds us that, despite the darkness that surrounds us, light and love persist, ready to emerge at any moment.

As you read this tome, prepare to be transported, moved and deeply touched. The author has once again created a work that transcends time and emotion, cementing his place among the greats of contemporary literature. He is without doubt a literary beacon, guiding his readers through the tumult of life with a pen imbued with wisdom and passion.

Moussafir Bouchari a.k.a. The Guardian of the Present

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my dearest and most loving Mum. You who left us in that fateful month of December, a month now marked by an icy and eternal sadness. Your hourglass emptied its breath peacefully, but with infinite sadness. Every last grain of sand in your existence fell with a dull, silent crash, a silence so heavy that it tore at my heart every moment.

Your departure has left a huge void, a dark shadow replacing your once dazzling light. I haven't had the time to sit by your side any more, to drink in your powerful and inspiring words, to become an extension of your hand that unfortunately never got to write, to get drunk on your stories with their magical accents, and to savour your smile, that miraculous remedy against melancholy.

You were my poetry queen, your prose caressing my soul with unequalled gentleness. You were my muse, sculpting words with infinite grace. You gave me the gift of writing, the power of words and the enchantment of literature. Through each line, each verse that I compose, it is your spirit that I seek to evoke, your voice that I hear echoing.

My Paradise was there, right under your beloved feet. Oh, how I wish I could have washed them and even kissed them, to honour every step, every gesture of your being. Every moment spent away from you reminds me how much you were the centre of my universe, my compass and my beacon.

Rest in peace now, sweet Mother. Your essence will live on in some of these pages, where the words and verses will forever carry your immortal soul. Every sentence I write is a silent prayer for you, a tribute to the light you brought into my life and the strength you continue to inspire.

Your son who loves you so much and who will never stop loving you.

A YEMMA

HAMLAHKEM ATASS...

Table of contents

Introduction

Chapter I: The crossroads

Part 1: Geneva - Lyon

Part 2: Marseille Algiers

Chapter II: A new day

Chapter III: Yemma

Chapter IV: The cry of the heroes

ChapterV:Journey to the centre of Switzerland

Chapter VI: The final decision

Chapter VII: The Author

Afterword

Acknowledgements

Introduction

« This breath, which gave you life and accompanied you, remains veiled in everyday life. As a child, you couldn't grasp its depth. But as you approach the twilight of your existence, its true meaning emerges. The cycle ends in eloquent silence, revealing the transience of this divine essence. In that breath is the maternal love, eternal and vibrant, that cradled you from your earliest moments. This love, invisible but omnipresent, links every beat of your heart to that of your mother, transcending time and space. Despite the trials and tribulations, this love remains the purest and most powerful force. Look for it in every breath, and you'll find life's hidden message : maternal love is immortal. »

Mustapha Bouktab

In this final instalment of Le Gardien du Présent, the final building block in this trilogy, I invite you to join me on a literary journey that defies time and transcends the boundaries of space. This story will not only sweep you away, it will immerse you in an ocean of intense and profound emotions. You'll be immersed in the soul of the narrator, and therefore mine, feeling every beat of my heart, every breath of life that drives me on this adventure. You won't be mere spectators, but actors in your own right, experiencing every moment, every thrill, as if you were plunged into an uncertain future or a past you'd never want to give up.

In this third volume, you'll discover new lands and untold stories where reality and fiction, adventure and emotion mingle in a spellbinding dance. The characters you meet will touch the very depths of your soul, stirring your heart with feelings of love, hope and sometimes despair. This final volume is a symphony of emotions, an ode to an exceptional figure, a Mum whose magical words inspired every line I wrote. Get ready to travel through time, exploring the twists and turns of the past and the promises of the future, guided by Moussafir, the protagonist of this novel.

It will take you into the abyss of love, that universal and elusive love that can be born of a mother, a wife or a soul mate. It will make you feel every palpitation, every sparkle of that love, giving you the impression of living through it and its twists and turns. You will also be confronted with death, where the abysmal grief of loss can engulf your being, making you believe that the light has gone out. But Moussafir will be your guide, pulling you out of the darkness and into a light of hope and comfort, where the warmth of hope will caress your skin.

This story, though woven from truths interwoven with realistic fictions, will be a beacon of hope. The twists and turns and the questions it raises will not leave you unscathed. For those who enjoyed the first two volumes, I promise you that this one will awaken an inner voice within you, whispering questions about the future that lies ahead.

In this volume, we also explore the harsh memories of the Algerian War, a period marked by suffering and courage. My parents, true heroes of that era, will guide you through the trials they faced. Their stories, full of resilience and strength, reveal the depth of the human soul in the face of adversity. Their courage and determination illuminate this story, adding another dimension to our understanding of love and sacrifice. As I write these lines, the world seems to be sinking into quicksand, paralysed, breathing hard, where hope seems to be fading. But remember, we were created with a breath of magic that lives on in each of us. Even if only a tiny spark remains, reading this book could rekindle that flame, transforming it into a beacon of light capable of dazzling the forces of evil and pushing back the darkness.

Never forget : darkness is only the absence of light. This book is the promise of that light, a light that will guide you through the shadows and help you discover the magic hidden deep in every heart.

On this journey, you'll meet characters whose stories will touch you deeply. Every page you turn will bring you closer to them, to their hopes, their disappointments and their struggles. They are not just literary creations, but mirrors reflecting our own inner quests and struggles.

At the heart of this tome is an exceptional Mum, a muse whose presence has imbued every word with her tenderness and wisdom. Her unconditional love and quiet strength are the threads that will guide you through the twists and turns of this story. She is the flame that lights up the darkness of this world, the source of inspiration that allowed me to weave these stories.

Moussafir, our guide and protector, will take you further than ever before. His journeys through time and space will reveal hidden truths and shocking realities. His battles against the dark forces will be your battles, and his victories, your victories. Together, you'll explore an uncertain future, a futuristic era full of mysteries and challenges. Each decision, each action taken by Moussafir, will resonate with you, awakening profound questions about our own future.

As we move through this story, the world around us seems to be falling apart. The quicksand of disillusionment threatens to swallow up our hope, but it is precisely in these moments of doubt and fear that the light of hope must shine brightest. Remember that we are made of this light, of a magical breath that only needs to be rekindled. Through the pages of this book, I offer you that spark, that chance to rediscover the flame that burns within each of us.

This book is much more than a story ; it is a quest for truth, an exploration of the deepest human emotions. It's an invitation to look beyond appearances, to question our reality and to find the strength to fight against the darkness. As you read these lines, let yourself be carried away by the magic of the words, the depth of the feelings and the richness of the adventures. Let each word resonate within you, awaken your senses and nourish your soul.

Welcome to the final chapter of The Keeper of the Present. May this adventure be a source of inspiration and reflection for you, an unforgettable journey through the mysteries of time and the depths of the human soul. Hold on tight, because this journey has only just begun and promises to take you far beyond what you could have imagined.

CHAPTER I

THE CROSSROADS OF FATE

« AT THE CROSSROADS OF LIFE, THE SOUL CHOOSES ITS DESTINY,BETWEEN THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST AND THE LIGHT OF THE FUTURE. »

PART ONE

GENEVA & LYON   

« WHEN A PRESIDENT FALLS UNDER THE BLADE OF A KNIFE, IT IS THE ENTIRE NATION THAT BLEEDS, EACH STRIKE ECHOING LIKE A MYSTERIOUS DEATH KNELL FOR DEMOCRACY, LEAVING BEHIND SHADOWS AND UNFATHOMABLE SECRETS. »

Today, in the heart of this enchanting fir grove, time seems suspended on 11 June 1894. Angèle and Abigael and I lie down, barefoot, on the soft carpet of fir thorns, where each prickle seems to weave a secret bond with our skin.

The floor, scattered with fragrant resin, exhales a bewitching scent of fresh pine, an olfactory symphony that envelops us in a woody, soothing fragrance. Our bodies, in search of communion with the earth, are imbued with the raw energy of nature, as if she herself could offer us answers buried deep in her bowels. The sun's golden rays pierce the canopy, warming our cheeks and infusing our souls with a gentle, much-needed serenity. Each beam of light is a divine caress, a balm for our tormented spirits.

The branches dance softly in the gentle breeze, their secret murmur adding an ethereal melody to this magical moment. We savour this moment of rest, this enchanted interlude in the inexorable flow of time, to plunge into deep reflection, to unravel the enigmas stirring in our minds. Why have we been thrown back to this particular time ? There's no room for chance, I know. Fate, with its invisible threads, weaves a complex design that we must understand. Angèle, in her perspicacity, is convinced : our presence is linked to the imminent assassination of President Sadi Carnot, scheduled for a fortnight from now.

Lying on this natural bed of thorns, my hands open to welcome Angèle on one side and Abigael on the other, I can feel the softness of the sun enveloping us. Each ray is a promise of renewal, a soothing caress that calms our hearts. Our breaths harmonise with the rhythms of this magical fir grove, each breath an immersion in the secrets of the past. The gentle breeze, carrying the whispers of these ancient conifers, rustles the pine cones around us, adding an intangible dimension to this moment suspended in time. This moment of tranquillity seems timeless, until Arétaon, the mischievous and wise phasma, reminds me of my sacred mission as guardian of the present. His presence, both delicate and insistent, brings us back to reality. We have to leave this haven of peace and go back to the family estate to meet Angèle's great-grandmother. It is crucial to explain our presence without altering the natural course of events, so as not to compromise our own future. Period clothing, suitable transport, two weeks to orchestrate our approach to Lyon and then pass through the gateway to the present, which is in Algeria : that is our challenge.

Every step we take on this adventure is imbued with the urgency of the present and the weight of memories yet to come. Our hearts beat in unison with the very essence of time, waiting to unravel the threads of destiny that bind us to that distant era. The sounds of the forest, the intoxicating scents, the warmth of the sun and the freshness of the breeze, all converge towards a point of harmony where we, timeless travellers, must find our place and our role in the story unfolding before our eyes.

However, a benevolent shadow looms large : Angèle's great grandmother must surely carry within her the life of Marie-Christine, Angèle's future grandmother, whose birth is scheduled for 2 February 1895. The emotions promise to be intense, the tears inevitable. The prospect of this blood link, still fragile and latent, adds a poignant dimension to our mission. Feeling that we are on the threshold of a life that will influence generations to come amplifies our responsibility.

We leave the fir grove, our footsteps leading us through the green hills to Geneva, a city steeped in culture and history. The cobbled streets, glistening with morning dew, reverberate in the light of the new day. The houses with their sloping roofs and shop windows offer an old-fashioned charm, a real journey back in time. Lake Geneva, calm and majestic, reflects the snow-capped mountains, adding a touch of magic to this already enchanting setting. The unspoilt natural beauty of that era is no match for our fast-paced modern world. The wild flowers dotted along our path release their delicate fragrances, each step we take seems to resonate with the echo of history, each scent reviving memories and dreams.

It was at this moment that the idea of calling Ondine, my tender and wonderful mermaid, crossed my mind. My heart pounding, torn between impatience and apprehension, I clutched the green stone she had once given me and called her. Sitting on the edge of the lake, in a secluded corner, I wait, my eyes closed, my mind lost in memories of its dazzling beauty. The gentle waves of the lake lick the stones on the shore, creating a soothing melody, like a lullaby sung by nature herself.

Suddenly, she appears, like a vision. Her scales glisten emerald green with coppery highlights, like a thousand tiny jewels dancing in the light. Her cascading red hair frames her freckled face, accentuating her splendour. I am paralysed by her magic, unable to move or speak for fear of upsetting the fragile balance of time. Her appearance is like a daydream, a materialisation of my sweetest memories and hopes. Time seems to stand still as she emerges from the waves, the living embodiment of an ancient enchantment.

Her eyes, filled with curiosity and mystery, met those of Angèle, and a moment of recognition passed between them. She broke the silence with a soft, melodious voice :

- Who are you ?

Each word is heavy with meaning, and after deep reflection, I answer :

- We're time travellers, here from another era to unravel certain mysteries.

- Are you the Guardian of the present ?

A simple but disconcerting question. Caught off guard, I choose honesty :

- Ondine, I'm afraid of altering the future if I tell you too much. It's better that you don't know. I called you simply because I wanted to see you again and just be able to savour a magical moment in the present. You hold a huge place in my heart.

She gesticulates in the water, thinking, then says :

- If we met in your time, why didn't I tell you about it in the distant future ?

His wisdom shines through in every word. I reply :

- Ondine, you are a being of infinite wisdom. I think you chose not to tell me for reasons that are vital to our mission.

Staring at my ring, she adds :

- I know that you are Moussafir, the guardian of the present, wearing Solomon's ring. Your wings, Angèle and Abigael, allow you to travel through time. You must never meet the guardian of this century, or you risk changing the future. If you're here today, it's because your mission has been crowned with success, granting you this ring and these protective waistcoats that make you invisible in the past to ordinary eyes. I'm the guardian of many secrets ; just observe without interfering, and above all keep your own secret.

His words are like an echo of my own heart. We are linked by a deep mystery, an osmosis of love and mutual understanding. Angèle and Abigael also seem touched by this magic, frozen in this visual embrace. The golden light of the setting sun bathes the scene in a melancholy hue, making the tears on our cheeks glisten like dewdrops.

I reply, my voice trembling with emotion :

- Before we go on our way, let me simply give you a hug and engrave this moment in my memory. Our paths will cross again in the future, and you will mean so much to me. I'll feel an indescribable love when we meet again.

She accepts. As I take her in my arms, I feel her heart beating in harmony with mine. A comforting warmth washes over me, a mixture of happiness and sadness. This bonus moment is a divine gift, a moment of eternity. I take it as a wish granted, proof that love, even beyond time, remains a powerful miracle.

Without another word, I loosen my grip, take her face in my hands and gently caress her cheeks, wiping away her tears. I kiss her forehead, gazing into the emerald green of her eyes, where an unfathomable depth of secrets and emotions lurk.

She puts her hand on my heart and says :

- Moussafir, before you set off again, let me warn you. The forces of evil will grow stronger and try to destroy you through the power of love. Preserve this love without ever consuming it, until the day you meet the guardian of time, who will turn your life upside down. Be vigilant, because she will first be your worst nightmare and then your worst enemy before becoming your light. I've already told you too much, but remember, a century can alter my memory.

His words shake me. How could anyone replace Sena in my heart ? I can't talk about Sena, or Unakit. So I say :

- Ondine, this moment shared with you is like a foretaste of heaven. Thank you for this revelation that will shape my future, and know that from now on I will treasure this moment spent with you forever in my memory.

It was very difficult for me to have to leave and already leave her without being able to tell her more. I could see in her eyes that she wanted to tell me other secrets too, and that she was struggling not to succumb to the temptation of wanting to know too much. I could feel in her the powerful connection that bound us together and protected us. It was with a heavy heart and tears of sadness and joy intertwined in the depths of our eyes that we parted to embark on this new adventure, which promised to be very promising. Whatever happened, I felt strong and at peace in the presence of my two wings. They were more than a protection for me, they were a source of perpetual and infinite comfort.

We continue on our way, invisible thanks to our magic waistcoats. Across the markets of Geneva, vendors sell fresh fruit, local cheeses and artisanal products. The colourful stalls, brimming with local produce, add a liveliness to the scene that contrasts with our invisibility. The locals seem to sense us without being able to see us, as if intrigued by our beneficial but invisible presence. We often stop to listen to the tales of the elders, each story a journey in itself, an immersion in the memories and legends of a bygone era.

The smells of fresh bread and mature cheeses fill the air, and the melodious voices of the vendors sound like ancient music. Wild flowers continue to dot our path, their delicate fragrances mingling with the scents of the market. Every moment is a mosaic of sensations, every encounter an opportunity to become a little more deeply rooted in this fascinating era. The laughter of children, the murmur of conversations and the rustle of linen clothes create a harmonious symphony that envelops us.

Walking side by side with Angèle and Abigael, I feel a new energy, a strengthened determination. Together, we're ready to face the challenges ahead, buoyed by the magic of our mission and the promise of a better future.

Leaving Geneva, we head for the Alps. The winding paths lead us towards majestic peaks, each step bringing us closer to our destination, but at the same time challenging us. The mountains, eternal guardians of ancient secrets, rise majestically, their snow-capped peaks almost touching the sky. The meadows, dotted with wild flowers, vibrate with colour and intoxicating fragrance. The rivers, winding through the valleys, sing soothing melodies, their lapping offering a natural symphony.

We pass through picturesque villages where time seems to stand still. Stone houses, cobbled streets and ancient fountains create a timeless atmosphere. The locals, dressed in period costume, greet us without even seeing us, so warmly that they seem to sense our presence. The mountains, though magnificent, are a real challenge. The steep paths and dangerous passages demand all our vigilance and endurance.

The Alpine scenery is breathtaking. Meadows dotted with wild flowers, singing rivers, forests whispering ancient secrets, everything contributes to our sense of wonder. As night falls, we camp under a starry sky, the constellations shining like jewels on a black velvet case. The chill of the night is dissipated by the warmth of our campfire, its flames dancing and crackling, adding a touch of magic to our evening. The stars, sparkling in the darkness, remind us of the immensity of the cosmos and our humble place in it.

In the morning, we set off again for the estate near Monthey in the Valais. Switzerland at that time seemed to hold a wellkept secret, as if it were linked to the forces of evil that had found refuge in this land to establish their financial power by making it neutral and impenetrable.

Finally, we reach the outskirts of the estate. It's nothing like the one we live in now, but you can feel all its magic. Its base is built of large copper blocks to protect it from attacks by the forces of evil or any other invisible enemy. The stone walls, interlaced with veins of copper, emit a palpable energy, a silent barrier against the darkness.

As we arrived at the entrance to the big house, Angèle was hesitant, feeling anxious at the idea of meeting her great-grandmother carrying her beloved grandmother in her belly. So we take a few minutes to breathe deeply, absorbing the essence of the moment before taking off our waistcoats and revealing ourselves physically. I knock on the door, and when it opens, a palpable magic envelops the moment, an almost supernatural surprise. A lady stood there, bearing a striking resemblance to Marie-Christine. It was as if she had been resurrected, standing before us, the only difference being her clothes from another era and her younger age. It was breathtaking, deeply moving, a vibrant echo of the past resonating in the present.

I glance over at Angèle, completely disconnected from reality, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from those of her great-grandmother. Time seems to be stretching out, each second weighed down with an eternity of unexpressed emotions. I support her so that she doesn't collapse under the weight of emotion, and Abigael comes to my rescue from the other side, a gentle but firm force keeping Angèle on her feet. The looks we exchange are charged with recognition and mystery, a silent dialogue that transcends the centuries.

Long, interminable seconds passed in thick silence, before I found the courage to break the mute veil. The woman, frozen in her own shock, exudes the same presence and aura as Marie-Christine. I feel that she has already understood the depth of the moment. So I asked her, in a voice tinged with respect and urgency, if she would let us in so that we could talk inside, protected by the walls of her house. Her eyes, fixed on my ring and our waistcoats, reveal a curiosity mixed with a burning desire to take Angèle in her arms.

Then, with infinite gentleness, she finally breaks the silence :

- Welcome, come in. You must be tired from your journey.

Her voice is a balm, an ancient melody that envelops us in warmth and comfort. We enter the house, where the air is infused with the scent of lavender and old wood. The walls seem to whisper stories of generations past, and every object and piece of furniture bears the marks of time.

- You must have a lot of questions," she said gently. I'll do my best to answer them.

The emotion is palpable, hanging in the air like a light mist. Angèle finally finds the strength to speak, her voice trembling but determined :

- I... I'm Angèle, your great-granddaughter. We come from a long time ago, and we have so much to discover and understand.

A tender smile lights up the great-grandmother's face, a gleam of hope and understanding in her eyes. The journey through time and space suddenly seems clearer, carried by the strength of family ties and the unfailing love that transcends the ages.

Then she spoke, her voice full of gentleness and wisdom :

- Don't say a word ! I know who you are and I don't need you to explain anything to me, because I can feel the strength emanating from the ring you wear on your right index finger. You are Moussafir, the guardian of the present, and your hair gives you away because you are the fruit of my womb. And you, I think, come from the holy land. Come in then, my home is yours. For an unexpected surprise, I could never have imagined for a moment that I would one day meet you.

We crossed the threshold and, once the door was closed, Marie-Hélène, her first name, took me in her arms. A comforting warmth emanates from her, an embrace that transcends time and space. Then she takes Angèle in her arms, and they both begin to cry, without a word, their tears weaving a silent, sacred dialogue. The silence suddenly becomes very talkative, full of deep, unalterable meaning.

Marie-Hélène then kissed Abigael, telling her that her great-grandmother would be very proud of her if she saw her today, as they had already known each other. She then led us into the grand salon. It's identical to ours, only the furniture is different, but the air is charged with that magic and mystery that has lasted through the ages. The walls seem to whisper forgotten stories, and every corner of the room exudes serenity and the memory of times gone by.

Before I could even speak, she asked us not to say anything, not to reveal the reasons for our presence or the interpretations of our journey. For her, our presence here means that the guardian has won the first victory in this eternal struggle, and that's enough for her. Her gaze is filled with understanding and acceptance, a reflection of the wisdom accumulated over the centuries. We sit, our hearts beating in harmony with his, ready to listen and learn, in silence, the lessons of the past to guide our future.

The twilight creeps in through the windows, casting dancing shadows on the walls of the living room. Marie-Hélène turns to us, her face lit by a soft inner light, and begins to talk about the history of our lineage. Each word is a precious stone, each sentence a golden thread woven into the tapestry of our heritage. She tells how our ancestors have always been guardians, protectors of the present, using their knowledge to maintain the balance between the forces of good and evil.

We listen intently, absorbing every detail, every nuance of his stories. The flames in the fireplace crackle gently, adding a soothing soundtrack to his words. The atmosphere is one of gravity and reverence, each breath a silent prayer for the continuity of our sacred mission.

Marie-Hélène, in a moment of reflection, stares at Angèle with an almost mystical intensity :

- Angèle, my dear, you have within you the strength and wisdom of our ancestors. You will need courage to face the challenges ahead, but always remember that you are loved and supported by those who came before you.

Angèle, with tears in her eyes, nods her head in understanding. She feels the weight of the family legacy on her shoulders, but also the comforting warmth of the love and support that comes with it.

We spend the evening discussing our mission, the dangers ahead and how to overcome them. Marie-Hélène gives us invaluable advice, tips passed down from generation to generation for navigating the twists and turns of time without altering its course. Her words are like beacons of light, guiding our way through the shadows of uncertainty.

She suggests we eat and spend the night, as her diplomat husband is away on a trip to Egypt. She tells us that it's better this way, to preserve this secret that must never be revealed, to destroy the slightest detail that could change the course of the future. She then headed for the kitchen, taking Angèle with her, who let herself be guided without saying a word, but remaining as if paralysed and mute. It didn't take long for a mutual osmosis to develop between them, and in the space of a brief moment, Angèle was helping her great-grandmother to prepare a dinner using the resources of the time, while observing the culinary magic that shone so brightly in the hands of her ancestors. This gift for loving to cook and feed others was hereditary and improved over time to blend in with the times.

The dinner was a delight and an extraordinary encounter with the simple gastronomy of that era, which had the merit of having retained all the flavour and vitality of the food. Every bite was an implosion of flavours on my palate, a natural reconnection with the food chain. My stomach and my heart were delighted, because I could see how happy Angèle was to be able to experience these simple yet magical moments.

We then sat down to tea in the large lounge. I had to talk, I had to ask questions, because my thirst for knowledge always drove me to want to know more, as if my brain had become a guest in my head and was taking the liberty of asking questions without even giving me the choice of intervening. The room was bathed in soft light, the shadows of the antique furniture dancing on the walls, adding an almost mystical dimension to our conversation.

So I asked her the question that had been bubbling in my mind from the moment my eyes first met hers :

- Marie-Hélène, I can't help it, because I'd like to ask you a simple question that, I don't know why, might make sense in my slightly confused mind. Do you know what you're going to call your child as soon as he's born ? Even if I'm a little unsure, I'd just like to reassure the ambiguity of my slightly contradictory mind.

She looked me in the eye with a look that was full of tenderness and melancholy at the same time, and replied :

- Moussafir, even though you don't belong to my era, I'd like to start by saying what an honour it is for me to be here with you today, and above all to be able to experience this magical moment with my great-granddaughter. I already know that I'm going to have two little twin daughters, one called Marie-Christine and the other Marie-Thérèse. I think I've already told you too much so far, so I'm going to ask you not to ask me any more questions about my family, because knowing too much could affect your future and the consequences could be disastrous, even devastating. Moussafir, let God shape our future and our destinies because he always knows what he's doing and why he's doing it, despite the fact that we can often believe that it can't be the case because it sometimes goes against our plans or our thoughts.

Both Angèle and I were suddenly stunned and speechless by this revelation which, on the one hand, gave us hope and, on the other, made it impossible to believe. Why had Marie-Christine never told us about her sister, why had she kept this secret, or perhaps she herself didn't know, and the answer to this mystery couldn't be found in the present, since they hadn't even been born yet.

The evening continued in an atmosphere of silent contemplation, each of Marie-Hélène's words sounding like an enigma to be solved, each look a mystery to be unravelled. We are like travellers in a waking dream, aware of the ephemerality and magic of each moment. The tea steams gently in our cups, releasing aromas that mingle with memories and hopes.

Suddenly, Angèle broke the silence without even giving us the choice or the time to digest this news. She asked Marie-Hélène out of the blue how she could have had an aunt without ever knowing.

Marie-Hélène replied, her voice full of wisdom, with a composure that mingled with assurance :

- My dearest little one, I can't answer that question because the subject doesn't exist yet and I hope that your question won't influence my future thoughts. In fact, that's why I clearly told you that I didn't want to know anything about your time, at the risk of it affecting my own. All I can promise you is that if there's anything you need to know that I don't already know, I'll leave you a message that you can find in your own time. All you have to do is go to a tree that I'll tell you about before you leave, where I'll bury a metal box that will hold this message. Now it's time for me to tell you a little about my country, Switzerland, because it's no coincidence that the forces of evil have drawn borders here to make them impenetrable.

The white cross on a red background has its origins in the medieval period and you are led to believe that it was first used as a symbol by Swiss troops during the Battle of Laupen in 1339. The soldiers wore white crosses as a distinctive sign to distinguish themselves from the enemy. At the time, Switzerland was part of the Holy Roman Empire. The white cross symbolised Christianity and was used by various entities within the Empire as a distinctive sign to differentiate themselves from the enemy. However, this cross does not resemble a crucifix at all, but rather a cross with four perfect sides indicating a very specific location.

When the Swiss Confederation was formed, the white cross on a red background became a symbol of national unity and identity. It was officially adopted as the national flag in 1848, when the modern Swiss federal state was founded. We are led to believe that the cross is a Christian symbol, representing the Christian faith that was dominant in Switzerland in medieval times. The white cross also symbolises neutrality, a central value of Swiss politics, and the unity of the Swiss cantons.

Freemasonry was introduced to Switzerland in the early 18th century. The first Swiss Masonic lodge, "La Société des Mercure", was founded in Geneva in 1736. From Geneva, Freemasonry spread rapidly to other Swiss cities, including Zurich, Lausanne, Bern and Basel. Each region saw the establishment of lodges that helped spread Masonic ideas. In 1844, the Grande Loge Suisse Alpina was founded, uniting several Swiss lodges under a single organisation. Today, the Grande Loge Suisse Alpina remains the main Masonic organisation in Switzerland. They are mostly involved in lies and manipulation and remain at the service of the Grand Lodge of England, created by former Khazars disguised as false Judaism to implement a Machiavellian plan that will enable them to return to the Holy Land to sow disorder and chaos.

It's all false, because the truth comes from elsewhere. In Switzerland, there is a unique natural phenomenon where two underground rivers cross. This is in the Emmental region, in the canton of Bern. The two underground rivers that cross are the Seymaz and the Trocknetalbach.

The Seymaz rises in the surrounding mountains and quickly enters an underground network of caverns and galleries. The Trocknetalbach, like the Seymaz, is largely underground. The exact point where it meets is in a cavern accessible only to experienced cavers. These two underground rivers form a cross that represents a central point where the forces of evil draw negative waves to darken the world and to pollute and darken hearts. These phenomena of underground fissures and chimneys can sometimes be associated with the release of energies or waves perceived as 'negative' on the surface. Here's an exploration of these concepts through different geological, geobiological and esoteric aspects. Underground fissures and chimneys are sometimes considered to be 'portals' for negative energies or entities.

Angèle and I exchanged glances, each of us gauging the extent of Marie-Hélène's revelations. The spiritual and geopolitical dimension of Switzerland that we discover is both fascinating and disturbing, revealing hidden aspects of this country that have helped shape its history and its role in the world. Marie-Hélène continues :

-I know it sounds incredible, but these forces have shaped our history in subtle and sometimes insidious ways. It's crucial to understand that we must remain vigilant and protect what we hold dear. The cross that appears in the river crossing is a focal point for these negative energies, and our mission as guardians is to ensure that these forces do not disturb the balance of the world.

In our time, technology does not allow us to exploit all these dark aspects, but your time or the time after will eventually manage to do so. So stay vigilant and go on expeditions into these depths to discover secrets that could surely help you in your fight against the forces of evil.

Don't tell me why you want to go to Lyon and Algeria, but be careful because if anything were to happen to you, your time would be in jeopardy. I'm going to give you the financial means for your trip and I'll make things easier for you with some of my acquaintances, especially for crossing the Mediterranean.

Now get some rest and tomorrow will be another day. Believe me, life is full of surprises, and it's often when you least expect it that revelations emerge during a deep, revitalising sleep.

As the night progresses, we feel the weight of history and responsibility on our shoulders, but also a new inner strength, nourished by the teachings and words of Marie-Hélène. We know that our journey has only just begun, and that we will need courage and wisdom to face the trials ahead.

We were plunged into a meditative silence, each of Marie-Hélène's words resonating within us as a call to vigilance and responsibility. The revelations about underground rivers and their crossroads made us aware of the scale of our mission and the challenges that await us.

It was a very eventful night for me. In my dreams I kept seeing Mustapha, my namesake, who seemed to need help and, at the same time, I could feel Sena beside him, trying to help him up. Like a distant echo, I could hear Sena's voice calling out to me, begging me to help them. This dream, imbued with a pressing urgency and poignant concern, left me with an impression of premonition that troubled my mind.

Despite all the twists and turns and the revelations of that time, I suddenly couldn't wait to get back home and get to the bottom of this dream that had the flavour of a premonitory dream. This feeling of anxiety and anticipation hung over me like a nagging shadow.

When I woke up, the intoxicating scent of Angèle's brioche, with its purely natural authenticity, succeeded in bringing me back to this almost virtual reality, like waking up from one dream to enter another. Each scent seemed to blend harmoniously in the pure morning air. The morning scent of the mountain countryside, the warmth of the freshly baked brioche and, above all, the penetrating aroma of coffee pierced my nasal passages and penetrated deep into a secret corner of my soul, awakening forgotten sensations within me.

Sitting at the edge of the table, I watched Marie-Hélène place a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, accompanied by a jar of honey that seemed to whisper to me the melodies of singing bees. I was like a child discovering for the first time the richness of his senses, each stimulus becoming a new adventure. The sight of the steam dancing above the cup, the softness of the porcelain under my fingers and, finally, the sublime taste of this moment of purity.

Carefully, I added a spoonful of honey to my cup, watching the golden liquid mingle with the black coffee, then stirred gently, turning the spoon counter-clockwise, as if to turn back time and prolong this precious moment. I brought the cup close to my lips, letting the warmth permeate their contours and the rich aroma penetrate my nostrils, an incomparable olfactory pleasure. When my mouth finally opened to welcome the beverage, the sweet nectar of coffee made my saliva gush, enveloping my tongue in a cascade of flavours that triggered shivers of pleasure and absolute well-being. A simple cup of coffee from 1894, prepared by Angèle's great-grandmother, had become a magic potion, intoxicating and shattering every state of my soul.

Each sip of this coffee felt like a sensory exploration, a total immersion in a moment of ecstasy and peace. The intensity of this experience, so simple yet so deeply moving, reminded me of the beauty of life's small pleasures, often forgotten in the whirlwind of everyday life. This breakfast, in the company of Marie-Hélène and my two angels, took on a sacred dimension, every detail a celebration of life, time and the bonds that unite us through the ages.

As I savoured the moment, I realised that every detail of that era, every sensation and every interaction, was imbued with a magic and depth that our modern age had forgotten. This realisation strengthened my desire to protect these precious moments and to understand the secrets we have yet to discover.

Marie-Hélène, sitting opposite me, seemed to be reading my mind. Her gentle, penetrating gaze encouraged me to enjoy this moment of calm before plunging back into our quest.

-Are you ready for your trip ?" she asked with infinite kindness.

I nodded, silently thanking her for everything she had given us. We were ready, not only for the physical journey that lay ahead, but also for the inner journey that would continue to transform us. As I left the table, I knew that this day would be marked by new discoveries and increased vigilance against the dark forces lurking around.

We gathered our things, our hearts full of gratitude and anticipation. Every gesture, every preparation was imbued with the solemnity of our mission. We knew that the challenges ahead would be many, but we were determined to face them with the wisdom and strength we had acquired.

Before leaving, Marie-Hélène, with a gravity imbued with wisdom, reminded us one last time of the sacred importance of our mission. Her eyes shone with an intense gleam, reflecting the responsibility that weighed on our shoulders. She spoke of the tireless vigilance required to preserve the fragile balance of the world, a balance so delicate that a single breath could upset it. Then, like a protective incantation, a prayer whispered to the stars, she said to us :

- May God watch over you and protect you in your quest," she said softly. May your heart remain pure and your intentions just.

We had to leave quickly, because despite these intense moments between Angèle and Marie-Hélène, an enigma awaited me in our own time, and the road to get there was not going to be easy. Marie-Hélène then pointed out the location of the tree in question, a majestic oak whose gnarled branches seemed to reach skywards, as if to touch the stars. This tree, the silent guardian of future secrets, would reveal a mystery as yet unknown but potentially transformative. She gave us money from her time and gold coins that sparkled in the subdued afternoon light, and explained how to get in touch with her contacts in Marseille and Algeria, as the network of protectors was already well organised.

It was a painful farewell for Angèle, with a palpable melancholy mingling with every breath. Yet, like my own farewell with Ondine, she was graced with an unexpected miracle : a precious and unhoped-for gift from benevolent and mysterious forces. She was lucky enough to see her great-grandmother, an ethereal, luminous apparition, as if time had been briefly suspended to offer this moment of grace, reflecting her grandmother's resurrection. Embrace after embrace, charged with an almost tangible power, enveloped in a deep and comforting emotional warmth. In this vibrant atmosphere, where sadness blended intimately with happiness, tears flowed freely, like crystal pearls, silent symbols of the intensity of the feelings they shared and the indestructible bond that united them.

We set off, leaving behind us an estate steeped in memories and magic. The mountains watched us silently, unchanging guardians of our passage. Each step brought us closer to our destination, each breath a prayer for the success of our quest.

As we descended the steep paths, Marie-Hélène's spirit and words of wisdom resonated within us. We were ready to face the mysteries of Lyon and Algeria, buoyed by the strength of our heritage and the unfailing love that bound us together.

The future was uncertain, but we moved forward with the conviction that we carried within us the lessons of the past and the light of hope. Together, we marched towards our destiny, determined to triumph over the forces of evil and protect this wonderful world, rich in secrets and magic.

We arrived at Geneva station and boarded the train that would take us to Lyon. The train journey from Geneva to Lyon was a veritable odyssey through enchanting landscapes and lands steeped in history. The great steam locomotives, veritable steel dragons belching smoke, snaked through the valleys and mountains, linking the beating hearts of the cities.

Geneva station, with its elegant architecture and vibrant atmosphere, was a crossroads of cultures and languages. Passengers, dressed in period garb, bustled around the platforms, bearing patinated leather suitcases and elegant hats. The black locomotive, imposing and majestic, waited, blowing wisps of white steam into the fresh morning air. The tinkling of the station bells and the whistling of the locomotive sounded like an industrial symphony.

When the train left the station, it first crossed the shores of Lake Geneva, its shimmering waters reflecting the first light of day and from where I could still feel Ondine's aura and comforting presence. The surrounding mountains stood like silent guardians, their snow-capped peaks glistening in the rising sun. The Alpine landscape, with its lush green meadows and picturesque villages, flashed past the train windows, offering an ever-changing spectacle. The wooden chalets nestling in the valleys exuded a soft, reassuring warmth.

The train then followed the Rhône valley, winding through the terraced vineyards that stretched as far as the eye could see. The vines, carefully cultivated for centuries, bore witness to the region's rich wine-growing tradition. The colours of the landscape changed with the seasons, offering a palette of lush greens as late spring followed on from summer, with a premonition of the fiery reds and golds that autumn promised. The bunches of grapes, heavy with promise, hung from the gnarled vines, testifying to the hard work of the winegrowers.

Every minute spent on this train was a lesson in living history, a communion with nature and the past generations who had worked this land. The steady rhythm of the wheels on the rails, the occasional whistle of the locomotive and the gentle rocking of the carriages created a hypnotic cadence, conducive to reflection and meditation.

Angèle and Abigael were sitting next to me, silent but clearly absorbed in the same sense of wonder. Their presence gave me immense comfort, the certainty that, despite the mysteries and dangers to come, we would remain united, bound by our mission and our love for the time and history we were protecting.

The trip was also punctuated by unexpected encounters with passengers curious about our origins and destinations. Each exchange was an opportunity to learn and share, to forge links, however fleeting, that enriched our experience. We were travellers in time, but also explorers of the human soul, each interaction revealing a little more of the complexity and beauty of our world.

Small country stations, with their stone buildings and tiled roofs, dotted the route, each bringing its share of passengers and goods. Stops at these stations were moments of tranquillity, when time seemed to stretch, allowing passengers to stretch their legs and breathe in the fresh country air. The wild flowers lining the platforms added a touch of colour and fragrance to the air, which was already fragrant with fresh herbs.

As we approached Lyon, the landscape gradually changed from rolling hills to fertile plains. The city of Lyon, with its red roofs and cobbled streets, finally appeared on the horizon. Known for its historical and gastronomic heritage, Lyon was a city where past and present blended harmoniously. The spires of the churches pierced the sky, and the facades of the buildings told stories that were centuries old.

Lyon welcomed us with its blend of modernity and tradition, a city where past and present came together harmoniously. We were ready to tackle the mysteries that lay ahead, armed with the wisdom of Marie-Hélène and the unfailing support of our team. The future remained uncertain, but we moved forward with the conviction that each step brought us closer to the truth, ready to write our own chapter in the great book of time.

Perrache station, imposing and lively, welcomed travellers with its wrought-iron arches and effervescent atmosphere. It was a station where businessmen, families and adventurers met, each bringing a touch of life to this crossroads of Europe. Porters in impeccable uniforms worked around the luggage while passers-by hurried towards the exits, each carrying with them a fragment of the great human mosaic.

We decided to start our exploration in Vieux Lyon, a picturesque district of cobbled streets and medieval houses. The colourful facades, wrought-iron balconies and traboules (the city's typical secret passageways) transported us to another time. Every street corner seemed to whisper ancient stories, and we could almost hear the echoes of centuries gone by. The wrought-iron lampposts cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, adding an almost mystical dimension to our walk.

We visited the Cathedral of St John the Baptist, a majestic Gothic structure whose colourful stained glass windows projected bursts of light across the nave. The sun's rays, filtered through the stained glass windows, painted colourful patterns on the stone floor, creating an almost sacred atmosphere. Strolling along the Saône, we admired the elegant bridges and lively quaysides, where boats and barges added a touch of life to the already vibrant landscape. The calm waters of the river reflected the lights of the street lamps, creating a liquid mirror of the architectural wonders that lined its banks.

For our stay, we chose to stay in a typical 19th-century inn in the Presqu'île district, between the Rhône and Saône rivers. The inn, with its stone walls and exposed wooden beams, offered a rustic and authentic charm. The rooms were decorated with antique furniture, and the smell of polished wood mingled with that of fresh flowers in small vases. Every corner of the inn seemed to breathe history, and the whispers of the past mingled with the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

In the evening, we headed for one of Lyon's famous bouchons, traditional restaurants serving generous, tasty food. We sampled local specialities such as quenelle de brochet, salade lyonnaise and tarte à la praline. Each dish, prepared with care and passion, was a feast for the senses. The heady aromas of simmering dishes mingled with laughter and lively conversation, creating a warm and friendly atmosphere.

Tasting these dishes, we immersed ourselves in the local culture, each bite bringing us a little closer to the essence of this city. The lively discussions around us, the warmth of the place and the goodness of the flavours made this dinner an unforgettable experience. The dishes were so delicious that I could almost hear the generations of cooks whispering their secrets through each ingredient.

After dinner, an evening stroll was in order. The streets of Lyon, lit by the flickering glow of lanterns, exuded an almost enchanted atmosphere. We crossed the Place Bellecour, a vast expanse of cobblestones, where the equestrian statue of Louis XIV stood proudly, like a bronze guardian watching over the sleeping city. The Théâtre des Célestins, with its refined façade and imposing columns, seemed to invite strollers to discover the wonders of the stage. The stars twinkled above us, like celestial finery illuminating the night.

As we walked along the quays, we caught a glimpse of the Fourvière hills, dominated by the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière, illuminated by a thousand lights. The view was breathtaking, a veritable tableau vivant where every element seemed meticulously orchestrated. Every alleyway, every building, every encounter added a new dimension to our journey through time. The city, with its cultural treasures and gastronomic delights, offered us an unforgettable welcome, etching indelible memories in our minds and hearts.

At the end of this enchanted wander, we returned to our hostel, our hearts and minds weighed down with the rich experiences of the day. The night was soft and enveloping, with a sky studded with stars shining like diamonds on black velvet, casting a soothing light over our tired souls. As we prepared for sleep, a serenity enveloped the atmosphere, a suspended moment where every breath seemed synchronised with the universe. As we drifted off to bed, we were left with a bittersweet certainty : the next day would bring its share of mysteries and discoveries. But we felt ready to face them, fortified by the wisdom of the past and the unfailing love that united us.

The fateful day was fast approaching, and we had to put on our waistcoats so that we could observe without intervening, in order to draw conclusions. Witnessing a murder, both in the future and in the past, without being able to intervene, was a difficult ordeal. So I asked Angèle and Abigael to stay at the hotel during this tragedy, protecting their hearts and minds from the violence to come.