Meet Meda Rose -- Anastasia's Alter Ego

Excerpted from Camelot Disrupted, a work in progress

Around the base of a mountain, two rivers rushed toward one another seeking passage to the sea. Nestled into the mountain was a secluded, magical spot called Black Bear Mountain Village. An aging warrior woman stood on the mountain’s side. She was timeless as an oak, ageless from a distance, graceful in standing repose. Someone who understood such things would have known her to be listening to an ancient wisdom. To others she might just seem to be thinking, eyes closed, shoulder length hair gently lifted by the breeze, hands resting comfortably in front of her. A lark sang in the distance as rays of sunshine filtered through leaves to dapple her face. 

She wore a deep turquoise garment, and although this wrap might have looked out of place somewhere else, here beneath an ancient tree it looked almost inevitable, foretold. A playful skittling through the underbrush was the closest sign of life but by no means the only one. The clearing was alive with subtle sounds, the creatures’ business of the early morning, a vibrant felt sense of awe that hummed up from the earth. They were an earthly song behind the images that danced before the woman’s eyes bringing her now to focus on a particular arrangement, a hazy series of forms and figures charged with meaning for her.  

“It’s here!” she exclaimed, almost child-like in her delight.  “My time has come!”  

Oversoul had guided her to this, shone a light on her footsteps in those times when she’d been lost.  And It lifted her with that silent but certain voice she had heard that one time of her Prophecy. The instructions of that one time had guided her destiny the many days of her life since, sometimes consciously, other times not. Now, as she relaxed into the imagery, pieces of memory assembled themselves into a pattern in the woman’s mind, a pattern as wondrous and shifting as the jeweled pieces of the kaleidoscope she’d cherished as a child, a gift from her father. Her father – his loss pained her still… Her hero -- honored too late by her, yet out of her grief had come healing and an inheritance she could now pass on to others.

The woman let out a breath, almost a sigh. She widened her stance in defense of something not yet quite seen, as if the pictures coalescing in front of her carried messages of such weight she would need to readjust herself in order to take them in fully. But it was not resistance. She had almost always been an eager learner, often times out of sheer desperation. Next she would need to contemplate what to tell the others of what Oversoul had guided her to see this time.

Then she would wait for further instructions as to what exactly would be required of her in order to, at last, reveal to multitudes  the wisdom and the guidance of her prophecy and how to best implement these in troubled times.