"We Create Magic When We Do What We Love" Lianne Arends Author Utopianista A Message From Our Ancient Ancestors ​ Naran Stalwart is a young, introverted scientist who lives by logic and breathes facts. Imagine her surprise when she’s invited by a mysterious and secretive civilisation, called the Didelians, to be initiated into their ancient knowledge. The Didelians surfaced after the Second World War. Nobody knows who they are or where they came from, but one thing is clear: they are not like other humans. As a rational scientist, Naran is a skeptic of the supernatural. However, when she learns why she was chosen by the Didelians, Naran feels a deep conviction to accept her apprenticeship. Once she does, the young scientist enters an unpredictable and exhilarating existence beyond the realm of human possibilities. Naran’s rational plans and her perception of who she thought she was are thrown into a tailspin. While Naran struggles to understand if she’s losing or actually finding herself, she discovers that the history of humanity isn’t what she thought it was, and that the stakes of completing her training are much higher than she could have imagined. Will Naran bring back ancient knowledge, when the one thing she isn’t allowed to do, fall in love with her mentor, feels unavoidable? ​ The book series "Godyssey" is a modern grail quest that explores the roots of humankind. The books are filled with messages from the Antediluvian world that have survived throughout Mesopotamian, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, and Medieval times and that are destined to resurface today. ​ Godyssey launches October 10th at RegenerateX in Ibiza Read Online! Read the first illustrated chapters here "A Life Lived in Fear is a Life Half Lived" If the themes of GODYSSEY have ignited something within you, my personally guided sessions offer a space to dive deeper. My coaching sessions are designed to guide you on a transformative journey, helping you explore and integrate the wisdom of GODYSSEY into your own life. We’ll explore the ancient wisdom, spiritual insights, and transformative messages of the series, applying these lessons to your personal path. Through self-inquiry, reflection, and tailored guidance, these sessions are an opportunity to unlock personal growth, find clarity, and strengthen your connection with yourself and the world around you. Book a coaching session today and embark on a journey of self-discovery or elevate your writing to the next level. ​ Make an Appointment Personalized Consulting: Deepen Your Journey Short Stories Read The Story ​ My story Without Curtains is the WINNER of the 2022 San Miguel Writer's Conference Fiction Writing Contest The Godyssey Book Series About Me Hi, I'm Lianne. I am an author, multilingual storyteller, and educator with a deep passion for exploring ancient wisdom. I studied French literature at the Sorbonne IV in Paris, creative writing at Boston College, and political science at the University of Amsterdam. ​ In 2012, I dedicated myself to crafting my bookseries GODYSSEY. I gave up my marketing position in Silicon Valley and moved into a self-built campervan. I desired to visit the locations where the book would take place in the USA and Europe. This amazing journey gave me the time to study ancient mystery teachings. I delved into Kabbalah, The Knights Templar, Ancient Greek and Hebrew, the Quadrivium, Egyptian mysteries, Norse mythology, and plant medicine. Topics I'm wilfully weaving into GODYSSEY. My interest in storytelling and regenerative leadership has led me to participate in several transformative communities worldwide. In October, I’ll be officially launching my Healing Fiction series at the RegenerateX Conference in Ibiza, sharing my vision with a community of future leaders. Beyond my creative work, I developed a well-regarded language teaching method in the Netherlands and have helped a tech startup thrive through targeted marketing content. Whether I’m writing fiction or crafting impactful copy, my work focuses on using language and narrative to inspire new ways of thinking. ​ Read the Article Interview in Dutch Magazine GRAZIA about Living without a Mobile Phone In the USA for 4 years Listen to Episode An interview about THE GODYSSEY on THE SKEPTICAL SHAMAN PODCAST by Rachel White ​ Featured Read Godyssey on Substack! GODYSSEY HOME SUBSTACK More

Without Curtains For two years, Cecilia had been planted like a tree in her apartment on the third floor at the Kerkstraat in Amsterdam. She suffered from social anxiety, which meant that she had a tremendous fear of being around people, causing uncontrollable panic attacks during which her face would become bright red, her hands would tremble, and her thoughts would falter. As a child, Cecilia worried all day at school that she would draw attention to herself, and at night, this fear kept her awake. She dragged herself through college, mostly by drinking booze, and then got a job as a young copywriter at a magazine. She never fully understood how she got through the application process. When she was asked to have an interview about a possible promotion, she snapped. She couldn’t breathe, her limbs went numb, and she bolted out of the office. From that moment, she found refuge in her apartment. It was her safe space, as the outer world felt terrifying. Groceries, Cecilia ordered online. She called her family and friends on the phone, but she wouldn’t allow them to visit. Her parents didn’t know what to do. Cecilia was a grown woman who was allowed to make her own decisions, and Cecilia made it clear that she didn’t want to leave her apartment. She said she simply couldn’t—apart from her biweekly two-minute walks to the trash cans, during which she hid in her hoodie. For money, Cecilia worked on online copywriting gigs. Her dream was to become an author, but she felt that her lack of real life-experience prevented her from writing anything interesting, as she had been hiding most of the time. In her apartment, Cecilia watched TV and online shows, read books, and worked on hobbies such as knitting hats. Mostly, she stared out of her window into the street. That’s how one day, she noticed the brightly lit studio apartment right across from hers, also located on the third floor. How come Cecilia had never noticed it before? It seemed that all of a sudden, the window of the apartment was very visible from her living room, like a brightly lit movie screen. Everything inside was crystal clear. Then Cecilia remembered that the apartment used to have curtains and had been dimly lit. Now, someone new had moved in. It was a young woman, not much older than Cecilia, who had pushed her bed right up against the window. When she lay in it, the crown of her head was clearly visible. The young woman liked to walk naked in her apartment, and Cecilia felt embarrassed to watch. She probably didn’t know that Cecilia could see her, or perhaps she just didn’t care. But it was impossible not to look. Over the next few weeks, Cecilia witnessed parties in the young woman’s apartment, and wild solo-dance sessions late at night. She saw the men she took home with her after dates, sometimes two at the same time. She watched the young woman make video calls, cook meals, and walk around with wet hair after showers. She also witnessed the more quiet moments during which the woman would read books and watch movies. Cecilia felt upset that she was able to see everything. There she was, stuck in her apartment, with no life, and across the street now lived a woman who was everything Cecilia was not. The young woman had friends, experienced joy, and lived a seemingly easy life. She left her house whenever she wanted, without a second thought, while Cecilia stayed inside biting her nails. Cecilia both admired and hated the young woman at the same time. After a few months, the woman got a boyfriend, a young man with whom she seemed perfectly at ease. They had the most shockingly eccentric sex, whenever they wanted, and anywhere. Their lean and attractive bodies constantly rubbed up against each other, and they stayed long mornings in bed making love. Cecilia couldn’t imagine ever being like that. Her most recent love interest, who she had met through Tinder, had never made it to her house, nor did she to his, since it had made her too nervous. Eventually, she ghosted him—not on purpose, but because she was overwhelmed. While Cecilia watched, the new couple across the street grew closer. They danced intimately to slow jazz music, fed each other cookies and cakes while lying on the sheets, rubbed each other's shoulders, and he even painted her toenails. They told each other funny things since they laughed a lot. In fact, they laughed more in one morning than Cecilia had laughed in an entire year. Cecilia felt frustrated. For years, that window across the street had meant nothing to her; she had barely ever noticed it, but now, it was all she could look at. She was unwillingly confronted with a life she didn’t want to be a part of, as an accidental voyeur, and she was becoming addicted to it. It felt like binging a reality show, without paying for the entertainment. She knew it was very inappropriate, but no matter how often Cecilia told herself not to stare at the window anymore, she couldn’t stop. Sometimes Cecilia thought about telling the couple she could see them so clearly. She fantasized about walking over and ringing their bell, asking them to cover themselves in their most intimate moments, but Cecilia knew she didn’t have the guts to face them. She thought about writing a note saying “I can see you!”, and taping it to the woman’s window. But that, too, felt too confrontational. A few times she tried closing her own living room curtains, but it made her room dark and small. She needed her window into the world, it was the only real connection with the outside she currently had. Cecilia decided that she had to accept the situation and learn to live with it. And so she did. She conformed to the idea of the woman across the road being there, and her partner. Their naked bodies, their eccentric sex at random hours, their dancing in the middle of the room, and their shoulder rubs simply became a part of Cecilia’s daily life. She saw the love birds as the perfect symbol of what she would never be. Another year passed during which Cecilia didn’t leave her apartment, and during which the young woman across the street didn’t buy curtains. At that point, Cecilia didn’t even want her to. Cecilia felt oddly too connected; the woman and her partner now felt like friends. Sometimes, it even felt as if their lives were what kept Cecilia going. The couple distracted her from her anxiety. They made Cecilia feel more functional. That’s why, when the apartment turned dark without warning, Cecilia felt extremely unsettled. There was no more activity behind the window. The lights stayed off at night, and during the days no one was there. Cecilia wondered if the young woman had suddenly moved without her noticing. But how was that possible? Her bed and other pieces of furniture were still there. Perhaps the couple had broken up and the young woman went on a sabbatical. Or perhaps, she had had an accident. Cecilia felt strangely abandoned by her neighbors. She had grown so attached to the couple across the street, that now she was upset that they hadn’t said goodbye. She felt more alone than ever. Without the young woman’s life to distract her, Cecilia focused fully on her social anxiety again, and it started to take up the majority of her thoughts, as it had before. Meanwhile, she convinced herself that she felt relieved that the young woman was gone. She was no longer forced to be an accidental voyeur. It was better that way. After two months of complete darkness, the lights across the street suddenly turned on. But it wasn’t as before. The studio apartment was lit at early hours, and that never happened, as the young woman never went anywhere early. But even though the room was brightly lit, Cecilia didn’t see anyone. The room remained completely empty. Periods of darkness were now interspersed with early mornings during which the lights were on, but the room remained always empty. Another two months later, on a day hot summer’s day, Cecilia unexpectedly saw a man sitting in the window. He looked up into the sky, and then down into the street. He was wearing a rather unflattering gray t-shirt that stretched tight around a small potbelly. He had hunched shoulders, and his half-long hair fell in lifeless strands along his face. Cecilia thought the man looked sad. It took one to know one. He sat there for hours looking out of the window, and over the next few days, he remained there. Cecilia couldn’t figure out who he was, or what he was doing there. Then a woman appeared in the room as well. She was standing right at the window by the bed, naked. She was bald, and her body was so skinny that she looked like a skeleton. A shock went through Cecilia’s body. She realized she was looking at the couple she knew so well, but they had completely changed. The young woman was clearly sick, and it was serious. Her eyes lay deep in her face and her cheekbones stood out sharply. She barely had breasts anymore, and her skin lay loose over each rib below. Her body looked like it was made of porcelain that could break at any moment. Cecilia guessed that the woman had gone through chemotherapy and that she was now recovering. The young woman mostly stayed in her bed. Cecilia could clearly see her bald head; it looked so much smaller than before. Her partner was mostly there with her in the apartment. He would make her food, read her books, and stroke her arm, chest, and head. The tenderness between the two deeply touched Cecilia. How could this have happened? The woman was so young. Cecilia had been watching the couple across the street for over a year, but now her focus on them became obsessive. They were the first thing she checked every morning, and the last thing she looked at before going to bed. She expected the young woman to gain weight and health, but she didn’t. If anything, she was only getting thinner. And Cecilia grew increasingly worried. She became afraid that upon waking in the morning, the woman wouldn’t be there. Her symbol of a healthy life was withering, and sometimes it felt as if Cecilia was withering with her. Six months later, a few days after Christmas, people gathered in the apartment. Cecilia panicked as she guessed that they were there to say goodbye. A young man Cecilia had never seen before paced through the house. Her brother, perhaps. Or that of her partner, as he somewhat looked like him. Then there was a young woman present who somewhat looked like her neighbor, in her healthier days. Her sister, possibly. A middle-aged lady sat next to the bed and didn’t leave, except for when she went to the bathroom. It was her mother, most likely. Tears rolled down the woman’s face, and Cecilia thought of her own mother, whom she hadn’t allowed to visit for over three years now. A lump blocked Cecilia’s throat and she cried together with the rest, unseen. She thought about her own death, and how no one would be there to say goodbye. All day, people came and went, and Cecilia sat in her living room, watching. Eventually, everyone left, except for the partner and the woman’s mother who was incessantly wiping her eyes. It was late at night. Candles were lit and both sat next to the bed. Cecilia saw a black shadow in the back of the room waiting patiently, and instantly she knew it was death, there to take the young woman. The mother climbed into the bed beside her daughter and stroked her face tenderly, while the young man stayed sitting and held his beloved’s hand. The room filled with so much affection that the shadow of death disappeared, but only temporarily. When it returned, it had grown in size. It approached the bed while Cecilia pushed her fingers into her sofa. She knew it was time and she held her breath. The shadow covered the bed, entirely, and veiled the emaciated body of the young woman with its dark cloak. The young woman’s chest went up and down one last time, and then it stopped. Cecilia exhaled. It was done. The young woman was gone. The young man laid his head on his departed partner's shoulder while her mother rested her hands on her daughter's chest. They lay there for a long time as Cecilia watched. In her memories, she could see the couple dancing through the room, happily, and having breakfast in bed. She remembered their dinner parties and their eccentric sex. She remembered their kisses, their caresses, and their joy. Now the woman was gone, and he was still there. And the mother. And Cecilia, an invisible third person at the deathbed. Cecilia watched the room for a long time, and then she went to bed, but couldn’t sleep. She saw the death scene over and over again. She felt abandoned. She didn’t get to say goodbye. All this time, she had expected the couple to fight, break up, and move on, like most people their age. But she never imagined their love story to have such a tragic end. A separation decided by illness. The next morning, Cecilia walked directly to the window. In the room, a coroner and his assistant were pulling the body of the young woman to the edge of the bed while wearing white plastic gloves. The body of the woman looked shrunken and almost transparent. She didn’t look human anymore. It was the first dead body Cecilia had ever seen and it made her shudder. In the back of the room stood the partner. He had empty eyes. Behind him, Cecilia saw the mother. She was hiding from the horrid scene. The coroner and his assistant wrapped the young woman’s body in a sheet and then zipped her into a vinyl bag. They placed her on the gurney and rolled her out of the apartment. The partner and mother followed. Cecilia thought it seemed unnatural and sterile. When the mother returned to the room, she folded the blankets and stacked them on the empty bed. Then she left. And so did the partner. Cecilia didn’t work that day, nor the next, nor the days after. She was in mourning for someone she had never met. A few days later, the partner returned to the apartment and lay in bed, alone. He was totally changed from the first time Cecilia had seen him. He no longer looked young. He looked experienced, mature—too mature for his age. When he got out of bed, he danced through the room, alone, to jazz, as they had done together. He stayed in the apartment for a few days and then disappeared. Without a warning, without a goodbye. And Cecilia stayed behind. Alone. Locked inside her apartment without anywhere to go. But something had changed inside of her. She, too, had matured through the experience. She felt that she had a duty to make something of her life. Find love, dance to jazz, have eccentric sex, and enjoy breakfast in bed. Cecilia decided that she had to start living, as it could be over at any time. And most importantly, she had to go see her parents. But first, she had to write about the young woman across the street. She couldn't talk to anyone she knew about it, but she had to get it out. And so she wrote, for days. She wrote about everything that she had seen and felt. And when she was done, she sent it to a book agent. Then she booked an appointment with a behavioral therapist and left her home for the first time in three years. It was terrifying, but Cecilia knew she had to push herself into situations that scared her. She had to. She had to learn how to live. She owed it to the young woman who no longer could. One month later, Cecilia was invited for an interview by the agent she had sent her story to. It came as a shock, and she felt terrified. For a moment, she felt tempted to lock herself up in her apartment again. But when looking at the window across the street, where a new neighbor had hung curtains, she knew it was impossible. She couldn’t stay in, not after what she had experienced. One year later, Cecilia’s novella “Without Curtains” was published; she had to present the book in front of the press. It was terrifying, but she did it. Her family and friends were all there, and so was her new partner with whom she often danced around her the living room. She dedicated the book to a woman whose name she didn’t know and whom she had never personally met, but who, by dying, had saved her life.

W obbly and confused, we stumble out of the Arena. Outside, the night sky is clear and crisp. A lustrous line of stars forms a celestial smile that brightly welcomes us back to reality. Broadly, I smile back, thankful for the three-hour experience we have just had. While deeply inhaling the fresh air, my sensory world gradually shifts back to normal. I turn around and look once more at the colossal stone building while everyone moves sluggishly forward. The crowd slowly proceeds in the direction of the vehicles, and it feels as if we’re all awakening from a dream. Looking to the left, I see the camp in the meadow. The dark wooden cabins have small round windows through which warm lights shine. Each cabin has a different colored lantern pending in front of its entrance. I think of the main performer from the show and wonder which cabin is his. I don’t have much time to look for it since the herd of people moves on slowly. The legends and rumors say the Didelians are very strict when it comes to privacy; after the performances, the audience isn’t allowed to leave the path. Snooping around the cabins in search of performers is strictly prohibited, and I quickly give up my mischievous idea of finding the man who captivated me for the last three hours. Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Flambeau River State Forest, Wisconsin October 24th 2014 Monstry’s Surly Demeanor When my feet bump into something soft I almost trip. Confused, I halt my march to see what I have stumbled over. In the darkness, I distinguish two large green eyes that peer at me from below. It’s a big white… cat. Quickly, I crouch to the ground to inspect if I’ve hurt the animal with my big leather winter boots, but before I can get to it, the cat jumps to the side while keeping its green eyes fixated on me. I look up at my friend Psyrah and ask her to wait. When I crouch down to reach out to the animal, the cat leaps even further to the side. It doesn’t take its eyes off me, not even for a second. As it makes its way through the dense forest of legs of visitors, it feels as if it is asking me to follow it. “Meet me by the car,” I whisper to Psyrah. “I’m going to follow the cat.” Psyrah looks puzzled but before she can ask anything, I am already chasing four soft paws through the crowd. The green eyes have an enchanting effect on me and I keep chasing. Before I realize where I am, I’ve stepped out of the line of people. I’m a lot closer to the cabins now. Should I follow the white animal any further? I’m undecided. What if the Didelians discover I’m on their grounds? Will there be immediate consequences? The feline doesn’t seem to have patience for my internal dialogue and disappears in the direction of the wooden houses. With the four paws fading in the distance, I silence my common sense, take a breath and follow, which is very out of character for me. I’m not a risk-taker. This animal has a strange effect on me. When I’m next to the closest cabin, I realize what I’m doing. My heart starts to pound. People have been thrown into jail for trespassing. Everybody knows the Didelians are off-limits. Even for the authorities. My fear becomes too overpowering. When I turn and prepare to run, but suddenly a deep voice rings like a bell. “Wait.” It comes from the shadows between the cabins. In a glance I see movement and a dark silhouette travels in my direction. Behind it, I distinguish two familiar green eyes. The cat. I freeze. My body feels like an icicle, and I can’t even move my fingers. I’m terrified. ​ From the shadows, a man in a cape appears and approaches me. Within an instant, he stands in front of me. His face catches the light of a nearby lantern and shock penetrates my body. It’s the main performer of the show. It’s the man I’d been staring at all night.“Eh… it… it was the cat,” I stammer but I am not sure even the grass around me could have heard my trembling voice.

One thing I notice is that all the corners in the house are rounded and because of the curves everywhere, it looks alive. In the left corner there’s a small kitchenette. The countertop is made of mother of pearl and it drops seamlessly into the shape of a sink; no metal is used for the basin and a tap is entirely absent. Instead, a small fountain lies in the middle of the sink. I walk toward it and instantly the fountain starts spewing, ready for me to drink. Strange… I didn’t turn it on. With my nails, I tap on the counter to test the hardness of the pearl since I know this to be a delicate material. The top feels as hard as granite but is less cold. Next to the sink stands a stove with three round indentations on the top. Above the stove, several round pots hang on the wall and I slide my fingers over each one. The indentations on the stove fit the sizes of the pots like a puzzle. Inside the stove, a small fire burns but I see neither logs nor a gas line. Above the sink hangs a little wheel filled with fresh herbs, and right below dangle two clay cups. The cabinets are made of a dark polished wood and are smoothly carved into crafty shapes. A charming wooden dinner table and two chairs complete the kitchen. The Didelian campgrounds look very different by daylight, and I hardly recognize the location. The Arena stands on the edge of a humongous field and borders the Flambeau Forest. The building is breathtakingly beautiful and now I can really see what material it is made of and what the dimensions are. The structure takes up the space of a large football stadium. On Unraveling Didelis I heard it accommodates around 50,000 visitors. Everybody I know watches the television program Unraveling Didelis on the Discovery Channel. During this program, various experts from a range of disciplines try to debunk the Didelian mysteries by using the knowledge of physics, chemistry, and mathematics. Illusionists help out with the tricks that remain unsolved by the team. No one can confirm the theories of Unraveling Didelis, but the experts sound pretty convinced themselves. This is the sixth year of the show and it is still the most popular TV program of the moment. Today, I will probably be able test some of the theories myself, which is a bizarre realization. The large stone building is an interesting combination of a Roman Arena and a Rococo Cathedral all the while maintaining a surprisingly modern, yet majestic, appearance. The dominantly used stone is light beige and looks smooth; it almost looks as if it shimmers in the sunlight. All parts of the Arena are individually decorated with special stone carvings, statues, and mosaics. Every ornament is uniquely designed, and everything together forms a uniform art piece. The window frames are made of colorful tiles combined with translucent gems. From the top ridge of the Arena, large creatures that vaguely resemble the gargoyles of the Notre Dame, look down on us. Their large examining eyes, long sharp ears and chaotic wild manes that wrap as flames around their heads, give them a playful, demonic look. Different colors of light shine from the large lancet arches that go around the Arena. Three small towers in different heights give the building a dazzling medieval touch. The towers are heavily decorated with colorful rocks and all have a polished roof made of pearl-like material. Unraveling Didelis states the towers are used by the important Didelians who watch their own spectacles from up there. “Do the Didelians watch the show from those towers?” It is my first question and I surprise myself by it. Swaying Swenron looks up. “Ah no, those towers have ceremonial purposes.” “Oh.” He’s being completely honest. I never expected the Didelians to give away information so easily. Ceremonial purposes… I discovered Unraveling Didelis’ first error. The sky behind the Arena has a dark grey shade and with the low temperatures this week I think we can expect snow, though it’s early for this time of year. Birds circle over the Arena as if to check whether there will be a hiding place for them to avoid the snow. Chapter 5 Chapter 7 Chapter 6 Flambeau River State Forest, Wisconsin October 27th 2014 Mine In the back of the cabin, a large oval bed is half hidden between two bulky green trees that grow opposite each other. These humongous living tree-trunks make an unexpected bed frame. From the closest branches a white silk curtain with bright golden stars drapes down and separates the bed area from the rest of the house. I walk toward the bed and move the curtain. The sheets have the same pearl color as the countertop and shimmer brightly. On top lies a spread of white furry animal skin. The mattress fits perfectly between the two tree trunks. It looks as if they grew around it, and perhaps they did… It’s the most remarkable thing, that being inside doesn’t seem to harm the growth of these trees in the slightest; they are blossoming and there are no dead leaves visible on the bed. It’s all magical. Looking to the left I inspect the cabins, which seem larger than I remember. They’re built with dark wood and have small windows all around. The entrances are adorned with a beautiful overhang adorned with magical wooden carvings from which the lanterns are suspended. These lanterns, all in different colors, sway back and forth in the wind of this wintery autumn day. From every lodge, a small trail of smoke escapes through a little chimney. The bungalows have wheels and drive from location to location. They are known to navigate flawlessly and yet, no drivers have been spotted, which has caused a lot of speculation in our world. They drive at about 25 miles an hour and are estimated to carry up to 60,000 pounds. The cabin-vehicles can’t possibly carry the entire weight of the stone Arena; therefore, no one knows how they move it between locations. This is just one of the unresolved Didelian enigmas for which even the Discovery Channel doesn’t have an answer. It’s strange to know all these meticulous facts about the Didelians just by watching a TV show. I hope to learn more about the Didelian mysteries that have kept the viewers speculating for decades. Perhaps I will discover what gives the Didelians their powers… A small tingle of pride runs through my spine. Here I am, the first westerner ever to be included in this group of extraordinary beings… A dresser with a large mirror braided between branches stands next to the bed. Instead of seeing myself in the mirror, it reflects the forest outside. It’s the only space for clothes in the house. I look from my bags to the dresser, back to the bags. I guess the Didelians do not have many belongings. Luckily, the books I brought will have a designated location. At the end of the bed, a few branches of the tree have grown into a perfect shelf. Finding a location for my favorite silk scarf my mother gifted me on my 18th birthday, has priority over everything. I take it with me everywhere I go. I now carefully hang it on the branches, so it forms a little curtain behind the pillows. It matches perfectly. The cabin makes me laugh. It’s almost modern looking but with a dominant touch of Didelian. I look in Swenron’s direction. If it is true Didelians that can read minds, I have to be careful. My thoughts might sound like those of an overwhelmed groupie. Swaying Swenron is now walking with my luggage and doesn’t seem to notice my loud mental adoration of the camp. He walks past me, winks, and carries my bags toward the bungalows with visible ease. I stop my thoughts. The truth is, I don’t know why I am here and what the intentions of the Didelians are. Luckily, Swaying Swenron has been very friendly. Will it stay this way? I have three months to find out, and three months is a long time. From behind the cottages, grey smoke rises and the entire camp smells of burning wood. Combined with the freezing air, the thick bulky clothes I wear, and the sight of wooden lodges, my winter-feel is complete. I look at Swaying Swenron and wait for instructions. He smiles and points toward a cabin on my right. “Yours,” he says. Mine? It is hard to imagine having my own cabin. Yet, there it is, in the outer ring of houses. The door stands wide open and Swenron disappears inside. He reappears without my bags. It’s definitely mine. ​ “Rest a bit, Naran. This afternoon someone will come for you.” After delivering this message, Swenron pats me lightly on my shoulder and walks off. “Thanks,” I say softly. I wish I could act with more enthusiasm but I’m still processing the entire situation. Stupefied, I stare at the bungalow with my belongings inside. It’s so beautiful, so… Didelian. I’ve heard, read and seen so much about these homes. No non-Didelian has ever been inside. Now I have my own! I give a little jump of excitement and then guide Luna into the Didelian house that has been prepared for us. If the Didelians are trying to punish me for trespassing, they have an interesting way of doing so. Inside, the cabin is minimally furnished. I take my jacket off while Luna does a thorough study of her new home. She sniffs every corner, licks the floor here and there, bites some fabrics and makes sure she doesn’t leave a single crevasse unheeded. Traveling isn’t new to me. In the past I moved to several different locations for projects. I graduated with honors from The Biochemistry Program at the University of Minnesota and ever since, my career has taken off. I’m good with math and formulas and graduated young with exceptional grades. Since then, I have participated in several high-profile projects for large pharmaceutical companies. My references state I’m ‘inventive and have a refreshing way of reasoning’. Even though I’m not sure I deserve this, I have become a desired lab employee. After having worked on projects in big cities in Europe, Asia and throughout the USA, I decided to settle down with Luna in Minneapolis, close to my parents. Ever since, I have been doing what I like the most: being a couch potato, reading books after work and staying at home with the dog. While I unpack my bags, I become slightly nostalgic. I realize I’ve missed moving around. But today I am more nervous than I have ever been. I’m about to immerse in a completely new culture. I guess I have no clue what to do to ‘blend in’. At least when traveling for work, I was able to do research on the various cultures I moved into. Here it’s slightly different. I’ve gotten all my knowledge from magazines and television. In fact, I know very little about the people I’m going to meet. Luna seems to have no trouble accepting her new home; she is rolling on the soft pelt in front of the fireplace and rubs her belly into the fuzz. I decide to follow her example and to take Swaying Swenron’s advice to take a nap. Going to new locations with new people demands energy; I’d better have some. While sinking into my soft pearl sheets, I once more realize how blessed I am. This time I can’t thank my degree in school nor my work experience for the opportunity. Drowsy, I think about how Psyrah got our tickets.

He inspects me from top to bottom. “Be ready on Monday,” he says. “You will pack a bag. Bring enough clothes for three months. We will pick you up at your house. Prepare for extreme cold but also for milder weather. Do not speak with a single soul about this or the consequences will be severe. And I mean nobody, not even family or best friends. Use this as an excuse: You booked a trip. You are going to a retreat center in Hawaii for three months and phones are not allowed. Practice the story; it has to sound credible." I don’t fully understand what is going on. “You… are picking me up? Why? As a punishment?” I’m very confused. “We are inviting you. You will stay with us for three months.” I fall silent. I am invited? To stay with the Didelians? Three months?“ Any questions?” He asks while he squints his eyes. “Eh… I have a job. It starts in February.” “We will make sure you get back in time.” “And my dog?” “Bring her. I’m sure your dog and my Monstry will get along fine.” T he white cat meows while it stares at me. We are all standing completely still. A few newspaper headlines flash through my head: Chapter 3 Chapter 5 Chapter 4 Flambeau River State Forest, Wisconsin October 24th 2014 An Unexpected Conversation Reports like this are common. Governments worldwide are helping the Didelians to protect their privacy, and jail sentences are therefore not unusual. The Didelian mystery will not be unraveled, ever, but people keep trying. The severity of my situation slowly dawns on me and dark pessimism holds me in its grasp. My fear increases every second. I did something very irrational and very dangerous. Perhaps the next newspaper headline will be about me… The eyes of the main performer of the show are on me and he doesn’t blink. It feels as if he’s gazing straight through me. I get the feeling that he knows my fears and insecurities, and this makes me feel naked and uncomfortable. The white cat drapes itself around the man’s feet and he picks it up. Neither of them lets go of my eyes for even a second. He massages the cat and the animal purrs softly with satisfaction. I give the cat a dirty glare as if to say: Traitor! You lured me into this! In response, the animal hisses. Other than this staring contest, nothing happens. Hesitantly I look at the man. He shows no sign of interaction. There are no smiles, no frowns, no words and not even hand gestures. What is going on? We silently face each other for what feels like forever. I turn from an awkward smile to an insecure grin and end with a question mark. My mind is overshadowed with continuous internal turmoil. Perhaps I should run, I might be able to still get away with this… Slowly, I turn, but before I can move away, the man speaks again. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says. His voice is deep and his tone is neither inviting nor hostile. “I know…” I say timidly. “I have no idea why I followed your cat.” ​ Reporter for ‘Times Magazine’ fired after approaching Didelian ​ Texas citizen 3 months jail for walking into Didelian camp Emigrant deported from the USA after trespassing Didelian premises ​ The man now sounds mildly entertained and I imagine seeing a faint hint of amusement in his cat’s eyes. Are they playing a game with me? “Monday morning, at six o’clock, stand in front of your house. Be ready, Didelians don’t wait.” With these words the main performer turns around and disappears between the shadows of the cabins. For a moment I stand in utter confusion. Is this really happening? Am I intoxicated? Brainwashed? Hallucinating? Then I realize I’m standing in the Didelian camp, a place where I do not want to be seen by anyone else. Quickly I turn around and sprint as fast as I can toward the line of people. When I arrive, I jump right in the middle and pretend nothing has happened. I see a few intrigued faces around me. I never stepped out of this line. I did not speak to the leading performer of the show. He definitely did not invite me. While repeating this mantra in my head, I make my way toward the car.

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Chapter 29 Urdur Chapter 30 Didelis Chapter 31 Didelis Refugee Village 21 Chapter 32 Didelis Refugee Village 5 Chapter 33 Spider Webs Chapter 34 Nails of the Dead Chapter 35 Cross Country Chapter 36 Arrived Chapter 37 Water Chapter 38 Topanga Canyon Chapter 39 In the Audience Chapter 40 A Visitor Chapter 41 Night Class Chapter 42 Honest Feelings Chapter 43 Blood Moon Chapter 44 The Shed in the Hills Chapter 45 Not a Word Chapter 46 Loli Love Chapter 47 Pelicans Chapter 48 Another Surprise Chapter 49 Skating Chapter 50 Last Month Chapter 51 The Blue Pendant Chapter 52 Mind Focus Session Chapter 53 Gold Chapter 54 The Tower Chapter 55 Kai’s Confession Chapter 56 Goodbyes Chapter 1 Matthias Brolin Chapter 2 Monstry’s Surly Demeanor Chapter 3 Naran Chapter 4 An Unexpected Conversation Chapter 5 Grandfather Chapter 6 The Ride Chapter 7 Mine Chapter 8 Psyrah’s Luck Chapter 9 Deeri Speaks Chapter 10 The Show Part One Chapter 11 A Silver Bowl and a Torch Chapter 12 The Show Part Two Chapter 13 The First Class Chapter 14 Deeri of Didelis Chapter 15 The Show Part Three Chapter 16 Ground Level Chapter 17 The Show Part Four Chapter 18 The Oblong Chapter 19 The Show Part Five Chapter 20 Idum and Deeri Chapter 21 Afternoon Hike Chapter 22 The Decision Chapter 23 Kai and Deeri Chapter 24 The Wolf Chapter 25 The North Pole Chapter 26 The Gaoul Tree Chapter 27 The Trinity Chapter 28 Time Changes Start at the Beginning Table of Contents Sepher 1 BOOK SERIES

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