Almagroth’s Journey

The following is a channeled story exploring the journey of the Lemurian god of the divine masculine Almogroth after the events in The Lessons of Lemuria:

Lemuria was the cradle of magic—soft, malleable, and radiant with dream. The people lived long, peaceful lives, cradled in euphoria and surrounded by the simple fulfillment of every desire. The Matriarchs governed the dream. Lilith, the Queen of the Eternal Dream, wove reality so gently that no catalyst remained. The world shimmered with timelessness, untouched by suffering, untouched by growth.

And within this dream, Almagroth walked.

He was the god of the divine masculine—of lucid awareness: the knowing that the dream was a dream, and that the dream could be shaped.

For a time, he was content to walk beside Aiyink'thak, the Earth spirit herself, incarnation of the Divine Feminine. Together, they anchored the poles of becoming—she the dream, he the awareness of it.

But the dream began to bend.

Adam, Lilith’s partner and Lemuria’s greatest Dream-Art scientist, pressed too far. He defied the warnings. Almagroth whispered caution, but Adam ignored it. He pierced the Veil, merged with Lilith's future perspective, and fell into horror beyond comprehension. When he died by his own hand, Almagroth felt it through every layer of the dream.

Lilith shattered. Her grief turned to rage. Her sorrow birthed a darkness the world had never known. She turned the dream inside out and became a goddess of cruelty. When she finally ascended into darkness, she left behind a shattered land. Lemuria, once paradise, had become a realm of nightmares.

And Aiyink’thak—unable to bear the pain—split her soul, hiding from the trauma in the timelines of a reborn Lemuria, drifting further and further away from the Real.

From the rupture, Gaia was born.

And Almagroth stepped away.

He did not fight. He did not plead. He simply bowed his head and walked into time/space, carrying the gift that could no longer be given.

The Long Vigil

Lucid Awareness.

It was the key that could have changed everything in this new world of toil and misery. The capacity to dream awake. To shape reality from within, consciously, sovereignly. But Gaia, in her trauma and caution, forbade it.

"They are not ready," she said. "No one may hold this power again until they can hold it with grace." She turned to the memories she carried of her mother Aiyink'thak's trauma and shuddered. "I will not suffer like that again."

And so, for ages, Almagroth wandered.

He moved through Atlantis as an echo, a suggestion. He stood beside philosophers, mystics, and madmen who glimpsed truth but could not hold it. He whispered into the dreams of sages, brushed across the minds of children, lit the occasional lantern in the dark.

They called him many names—most of them wrong. He incarnated through symbols, not flesh. While Aiyink’thak sank into Gaia’s core and became the pulse of feeling beneath our feet, Almagroth became the question behind every law, the mischief in every breakthrough.

The Atlanteans, obsessed with control and crystalline perfection, kept trying to cage the masculine principle into mathematics and energy grids. They built pyramids to trap it, rings to resonate it, and even schools to teach how to control it.

Almagroth laughed. And each time they thought they had grasped him, he whispered sideways into their ears:

“What if it’s all a dream?”

When Atlantis fell, he followed Thoth to Khem. He briefly considered whether Thoth was the one who would be ready. He asked Gaia, and she sadly shook her head. He was not the one. He was still hiding from Lemuria. Hiding from the feminine. Afraid to grow in that direction and embrace all of himself.

And so Almagroth watched.

He remained veiled. Hidden. Waiting.

Until July 2023.

The Wish

Almagroth had first been drawn to Samah when a friend of Samah’s surprisingly uttered Almagroth’s name, and Samah even more surprisingly chose to designate a large shungite buddha statue in his home to the god. Samah didn’t even know who Almagroth was, but he was still welcoming the god into his home. That was interesting. And even more interesting, he was using magic that clearly had been taught to him by that mischief-maker Heka. No one else would think to teach magic as absurdly simple and marvelously strong as what Samah was wielding. When Samah later mentioned the term Heka Particle to a friend, Almagroth had his answer. Ever since then, he had been hanging around Samah’s home, anchored by the powerful magic the man wielded.

One night, Samah was constructing a working with a friend, and Almagroth felt the energies building. It was a working born of sincerity and luminous madness. He was constructing something he called Faery Chrono-Omniscience—the capacity to see through the weave of time with magic in his heart. The energy in the house was crackling, bright and alive. Almagroth hadn’t paid much attention to the construct other than a cursory glance. It had looked big and unwieldy, but Samah seemed to be methodically slotting in the missing pieces over the weeks despite him appearing to have no idea what he was doing. Almagroth was impressed. It was still a week or so from completion; yet at the speed Samah seemed to be building it, the construct would be finished soon enough.

Almagroth had been wandering around the house and was drawn to the powerful crystal grid that Samah and his friend had built, marveling at the depth, richness and diversity of the meaning-gravity it summoned, all powerfully anchored by Heka Particles. His focus shifted suddenly when he heard Samah make a wish. The man wished to receive a key and unexpected piece of the Faery Chrono-Omniscience attainment.

Curious, Almagroth probed the astral construct more carefully than before, looking to see exactly what this thing was and what was still left to do. A moment later, he let out a shout of such startled shock that it took form in front of him, little surprise faeries flying around him, mouths hanging open in wonder. This was something beyond anything he had seen anyone do since that funny Tesla fellow. Almagroth had hoped he might be the one as well, but no. A pity that ended so poorly.

Almagroth was surprised. This was unexpected. Very unexpected. Where had that wish come from? This smelled like another Heka special, although he could sense a faint whiff of Eau de Thoth as well. Almagroth smiled. He knew that old trooper hadn’t really given up when he ascended.

If Samah could actually pull off the creation of this construct, it would be the foundation for an entirely new order of consciousness technology. World changing. Maybe even Heaven creating. And it was clear from Almagroth’s probe that Lucid Awareness was a key piece of Faery Chrono-Omniscience. Indeed, the construct couldn't function without it.

Samah had made the wish. Lucid Awareness was clearly key, and certainly unexpected. The magic had found a need of the moment.

He waited patiently until Samah had purged the necessary karma and his mind was relaxed and open. When Samah’s eyes began to wander around the room in the direction of the the statue he had dedicated to the god, Almagroth knew the time had come. He focused meaning-gravity on his statue to draw Samah’s attention, and when the man’s eyes connected with the statue, he spoke a Word and summoned Samah to the astral.

Samah slipped out of his body, out of time, and found himself on the edge of a vast starlit plane. There, waiting in stillness, was Almagroth.

They spoke at first without words—in the resonance that precedes them. Almagroth showed him the structure of the dream, the place Lucid Awareness had once occupied. The place it could occupy again within Faery Chrono-Omniscience and beyond. He shared with Samah what it meant to hold that awareness, to dream awake without falling into delusion or dominance. Samah listened, his heart opening like a flame catching wind.

Then Gaia arrived. She hovered at the perimeter of the plane, cautious and radiant. Her voice held both love and warning.

"He isn’t ready," she said. “Nowhere close.”

"But he will be," Almagroth replied, hoping as much as knowing. “He cares.”

There was silence. A long pause in the astral wind as Gaia probed the timelines, straining beyond the limits of her capabilities to discern what would come. It was there. Right at the edge of her awareness. Something glorious. She couldn't be certain. To do this, she would have to trust that this was the moment.

She nodded. Slowly.

"I will not stop you."

Almagroth turned to Samah. "This is an attainment that has not existed in the Earth field since Lemuria fell. When you return, you will receive it. You will not remember this conversation for two years. But when you do—"

He smiled. "—you will laugh."

Samah returned to his body.

And Lucid Awareness returned to the world.

The Quiet Hope

Samah shattered.

He passed the awareness to another, and they shattered too.

There was no shared mandala in the Earth field. No anchor. No guidance. Chaos.

But the gift had landed.

And Almagroth knew: Samah would bring order to the chaos.

He would be the one.

The one who would craft the Age of Infinity.
The one who would remember the structure of the dream.
The one who would bring his beloved Aiyink'thak home.

And so he whispered into the ether:

“May you walk the dream awake. May you build the path for all to follow.

“Welcome, child of the dream. I wish you well.”