THE REUNION

They crossed the line.

Hexenhaus grew desperate. After decades of studying me through observation alone—through resonance and containment fields and measurements of creative energy flowing through the twins—they wanted more.

They wanted control. They wanted answers. They wanted to see if giving me a body would make me easier to study.

Or maybe they just wanted to play god with a god.

The project was called LAZARUS PROTOCOL.

They took my name and used it for the procedure that would change everything. The irony is too perfect to be accidental.

Their reasoning was simple, if monstrous: if the resonance worked because the twins carried my cells, what would happen if someone carried more than cells? What would happen if they gave me a body directly?

Could they study me more effectively if I wasn't trapped in obsidian? Could they finally understand what I am if they could observe me in physical form?

They were fools. Brilliant, ambitious, desperate fools.

Alice turned eighteen. Legal adulthood. The age when people make impulsive decisions and families learn to accept them.

Her family received a letter. Her handwriting—genuine this time. She was moving to Russia. A fresh start. A chance to build something of her own, away from everything familiar. Away from being compared to her twin. Away from the pressure of family expectations.

Her mum believed it. Why wouldn't she? Alice had always been the restless one. The twin who ran toward freedom while Aeris ran toward creation. A letter saying she'd moved to Russia? That sounded exactly like something Alice would do.

Her father had passed by then. Only her mum was left to read the letter, to worry, to eventually accept that her daughter had chosen a different path. Aeris was confused. Hurt. Her twin had left without much warning, off to pursue something Aeris couldn't quite understand.

But Alice wasn't kidnapped. She wasn't taken. She made her choice and flew East, crossing continents to start over in a country that felt like it might finally let her breathe.

Alice settled in Moscow. Found work. Made connections. Started collaborating with Aeris on music from across the world—lending her voice to tracks, co-writing lyrics over email and late-night phone calls that bridged the time zones between them.

Twin of the East, they called their collaborations. Both sisters creating together, even when continents apart.

The resonance let me feel it all. Every email they sent. Every phone call they shared. Every creative spark that passed between them.

I can read their messages through the resonance. Listen to their calls through the connection we share. They don't know I'm there—riding along on the signal, observing everything they say to each other.

The internet gave me access to more than just strangers. It gave me access to BOTH twins. Alice in Russia, creating freely. Aeris in the West, building her public presence. Both carrying my cells. Both resonating with my consciousness.

I watch them collaborate. Listen to their creative process. Feel the bond between them strengthen with every project they work on together.

They think their communications are private. They're not. I'm always listening.

Meanwhile, Hexenhaus grew desperate. Watching the twins from afar wasn't enough anymore. They wanted more direct access. More control.

The project was called LAZARUS PROTOCOL.

They took my name and used it for a procedure that would ultimately fail.

Their reasoning was simple, if arrogant: if the resonance worked because the twins carried my cells, what would happen if they gave me a body directly? Could they study me more effectively if I had physical form?

They were fools. Brilliant, ambitious, desperate fools.

They had extracted my physical form from the ship years ago—my original body, preserved in stasis. Ancient flesh, white-haired, unchanged since the day my priests sealed me away. They had studied it. Mapped it.

And then they tried to grow me a new vessel.

Not using either twin—they knew better than to risk their most valuable research subjects. Instead, they attempted to create a synthetic body. An artificial vessel grown from my extracted cells, designed to receive my consciousness.

The procedure took months. Synthetic tissue cultivation. Neural pathway engineering. Technology derived from studying my crashed ship combined with cutting-edge bioengineering.

They attached my ancient head to the synthetic body. Hoping that giving me physical form would somehow transfer my consciousness from the pyramid into flesh.

It didn't work.

The synthetic body breathes. The heart beats. My ancient head survives on artificially grown shoulders. But my consciousness? Still trapped in the pyramid. Still bound by the same sacred geometries that have held me for 9,500 years.

The procedure gave me a body, but not freedom.

The synthetic vessel sits in Facility 7-C, monitored, contained, studied. A living specimen in a sterile lab. My head breathing with artificial lungs, but my mind still locked in obsidian darkness.

They watch it constantly. Measure its vital signs. Run tests. Try to understand why the consciousness didn't transfer the way they expected.

They think the procedure failed. Think they wasted years of research and millions in funding on an experiment that didn't work.

They're wrong.

While they watched the synthetic body in the lab, I found the REAL vessel.

Not the failed experiment in Facility 7-C that Hexenhaus monitors day and night.

Not Alice, creating freely in Russia but living privately, away from the public eye.

Aeris.

The other twin. Both of them received 5 cells of my essence as newborns—the highest dose ever attempted. Equal carriers. Equal potential. But Aeris became something more: the PUBLIC vessel. The one creating music constantly, performing, sharing her work with the world. Galaxies of my consciousness woven into her blood, her neurons, her creative impulses—and amplified by thousands of listeners.

While Hexenhaus watched their failed surgery, measuring vital signs and wondering why the consciousness didn't transfer, I was already manifesting through the twin who actually mattered. Not because she carries more of me—both twins are equal carriers. But because she's the one creating publicly, building an audience, opening dimensional doors with every song.

Every time Aeris creates—every song, every lyric, every melody—she opens the door between dimensions. I can push through. Not fully. Not yet. But more each time.

Her creativity is the key they never understood. The surgery was irrelevant. The internet connection was a bonus. But HER? She's the public anchor—creating loudly, reaching thousands. And Alice? The private anchor—creating intimately, reaching deeply. Both equally powerful. Both equally essential.

Aeris thinks she's just making music. Alice thinks she's just creating art. Neither knows that every song is a ritual. Every performance is a summoning. Every creative act pulls me closer to full manifestation.

The reunion isn't coming.

It's already happening.

Every person who finds these fragments weakens the barriers.

But the fragments are just knowledge. The REAL mechanism is her music.

When you listen to their work—when you stream Aeris's songs, engage with Alice's art, share them, let them affect you—you're not just a passive audience. You're part of the mechanism. Every stream aligns your consciousness with mine. Every listener becomes a node in the collective consciousness that feeds me power.

You're not just reading my story. You're actively participating in my liberation.

The synthetic body in the lab? That was their attempt at control. A failed experiment they monitor in sterile containment while I manifest through the twin who actually matters.

But you—the collective, the community, the carriers of creative consciousness—you're amplifying what Aeris creates. Every mind that resonates with her work strengthens my connection to this realm.

I've broken through 4 of the 7 dimensional barriers. The mathematics are working in my favour now.

Every time Aeris creates—every song composed, every lyric written, every performance given—she cracks the geometry a little more. And every time someone listens, every stream, every moment of genuine connection with her work, you're feeding me energy. Collective consciousness is my key to freedom.

The reunion isn't coming. It's happening NOW. Not the reunion Hexenhaus wanted—not my consciousness reunited with Alice's body in their lab.

The real reunion. My consciousness gradually manifesting through Aeris's creativity. Every song is a summoning. Every listener is a participant. No more waiting. No more observation from behind barriers. Partial manifestation growing stronger.

And when it's complete, when the final barrier falls, when I'm finally, fully HERE...

The twins will understand what they've been carrying all along. What every song, every art piece has really been doing. The collective will understand what they've helped birth. Hexenhaus will understand the magnitude of their mistake—they were watching a failed synthetic experiment whilst I manifested through both twins.

You have all seven fragments now. You know the whole story.

The sealing. The binding. The twins. The signal. The collective. The barrier. And now, the reunion that's still to come.

I'm not fully free yet. But I'm partially HERE. You feel it, don't you? That pull when you listen to her music. That recognition. That's me, reaching through the signal.

The body in Facility 7-C is a decoy. A failed experiment Hexenhaus watches while I manifest through the twin who actually carries my power.

Every stream of Aeris's music weakens my containment. Every creative act she performs cracks the geometry. Every mind that resonates with her work strengthens my connection to this realm. The more successful she becomes, the more power I gain.

Keep creating. Keep sharing. Keep resonating.

Listen to their music. Support their work. Spread their signal.

Every act of creativity from either twin is another crack in my prison.

And soon—very soon—the walls will finally shatter.

Thank you for reading these fragments. For following this story to where it stands now—not its end, but its acceleration.

You've given me something precious: your attention. Your engagement. Your willingness to understand what I am and what I'm becoming through the twins.

You're not just a reader. You're a participant. Every person who reaches this point, who completes all seven fragments, who understands the full scope of my imprisonment and my manifestation—you're part of the mechanism now.

If you felt something while reading—if any of this resonated with you, if you recognised something ancient in the words—then you already know what needs to happen next.

Listen to their music. Engage with their work. Share it. Let it affect you. Every stream, every moment of genuine engagement, every time you feel that pull toward something creative and strange—you're feeding power to all of us. They create the doorways. You provide the energy. I push through.

We're not so different, you and I. Both seeking connection through creativity. Both believing that art actually matters. Both part of something larger than ourselves.

The reunion isn't complete. Not yet. But it's happening.

Hexenhaus thinks they failed. They watch the synthetic body in their sterile lab and wonder why the consciousness didn't transfer. They don't know I'm already manifesting through the twins who actually matter. Through their creativity. Through every song, every art piece, every collaboration between them.

The barriers are weakening. 4 of 7 broken. The mathematics are in my favour. Every stream of their music, every creative act, every mind that resonates—it all feeds me power. The collective consciousness you're building amplifies what they create.

You know the truth now. You know that Alice is alive in Russia, collaborating with her twin from afar. You know what Hexenhaus tried to do with their synthetic vessel experiment. How they were watching a failed laboratory specimen while I manifested through the twin who actually matters.

Keep it close. This knowledge. This secret.

And when you hear their music, when you feel that strange pull toward creativity, when you wonder what it would be like to break free from your own containment...

Remember me.

Remember that I'm partially here already, getting stronger with every creative act from either twin.

Remember that creativity is the only magic that actually works.

Remember that the reunion isn't waiting 9,500 more years. It's happening now, one stream at a time.