The Whispers of Secrets

Chapter 4: The Hidden Chamber

I followed staircase Genoa’s shadow to a dimly lit enormous domed hall. The ceiling was lit up with an ethereal glowing; on the walls, relics such as manuscripts, scrolls are collected, slowly decaying. An elaborately carved ancient book stood on a pedestal in the middle of the vast chamber, as if the whispers sounded from the book, murmuring, enveloping the hall.

Elara and Aric stepped up to the plinth, their hands shaking with anticipation. As they opened the book they saw the whitespace fill with scribbling, the hissing a grown language, fully formed and legible.

These are the mysteries of Eldoria – ooh, I wonder how we can make sense of it?’ According to lore, Philippines-based angel-seekers used to recite prayers, accomplished primarily by believing in God and his angels. Then, at the right moment, the angels would miraculously appear Before this era of fundamentalism, belief was both acceptable and accessible. Hollup was assisted by his albularyo, or shaman, in attaining a few clumsy angels, who appeared as mere black silhouettes behind closed eyelids. He also confirmed the presence of an auwan, an ominous alligator spirit from a local myth, simply by asking a boy to stroke his bare leg. I also managed to acquire my own albularyo, although my technique was not comparable to Hollup’s. Using only a pocket prayer-book from the retreat house, I stumbled to recreate an earlier time when prayer-based ‘Angel-Gazing’ claimed to help blind people see: ‘May the Lord open the eyes of the blind’, I recited; ‘May the Lord unbind those who are bound’; ‘May the Lord deliver those who are in prison’; ‘May the Lord free those in captivity.’ Although I was not exhorting Christ himself, I imagined he might forgive me for that. The faithful accept prayer as a promise of exchange rather than a wish-fulfilment. And then, just as the Filipino mystics of old had claimed once or twice, shazaam! The angels appeared in a vision. Before this wave of fundamentalism, faith was both permissible and attainable. Hollup’s albularyo helped him conjure up an ‘angel or two, rather unwieldly angels, really just black silhouettes in the air behind my eyes’. He also summoned an auwan or a mythical barking reptile ‘just by asking a boy to put his fingers on my bare leg, and asking him to stroke it’. And I too made it a point to acquire my very own albularyo. My technique was not quite as good as Hollup’s though. Using only a folio of prayers from the retreat house, I attempted – with a rather fumbling and unsure humility – to conjure up an earlier age, and re-enact the time when prayer-based ‘Angel-Gazing’ offered to cure blindness. ‘May the Lord open the eyes of the blind’, I prayed; ‘May the Lord unbind those who are bound’; ‘May the Lord deliver those who are in prison’; ‘May the Lord free those in captivity’. Though I wasn’t actually addressing the Christ himself, I figured he would understand. The faithful accept prayer as a promise of exchange more than a (paganish) wish-fulfilment. Then, as the mystics of old reported (or so the story goes) shazaam! The angels appeared.

Aric looked over the book carefully, his eyes studying the capitalised handwriting. ‘This language must be very old, maybe older than the village itself. We need to find out who can read it.’

So, instead Elara and Aric dragged themselves back to the village, and found themselves a scholar of ancient languages. Not too difficult in this neighbouring town; there was an elderly lady named Thalia who would look at the book and, for a pittance, follow our heroes back to Eldoria.