Chapter Twenty One: A Message to the Masses
If you are the one who made your children pass through rituals and abuse, it is time you give up your wicked war for power, control, and status. You serve a defeated master. The Serpent’s head was crushed beneath the pierced feet of The Righteous One. The dark princes you bow to do not rein on high, but they also have been brought low.
The Mighty God’s Kingdom is forever, and His judgment will be swift. You cannot hide your Secrets forever. What you choose to do in secret will be shown on the rooftops. If He did not spare King David’s conspiracy and murder with Bathsheba from this law’s consequence, I assure you He will not spare you. Your secrets will be revealed. You can choose to do it by your own free will or the little children you passed through those abusive flames will rise and convict you instead. Come to Messiah while there is time. Your judgment will be eternal, and I assure you of this: it would be better for a megalithic stone to be tied around your neck today and you be cast into the sea then you suffer The Father’s judgment for causing His beloved children harm.
To every member of these councils, brotherhoods, dragon bloodlines, rosy orders and carriers of “the royal seed,” know that your secrets and illumined blood will not save you. The gnosis, the chalice, and treasures you guard will not rescue you. The passcodes, coins, and rings, the handshakes, the whispers in the inner chambers will not always hide your magical workings. Your Hands of Glory cannot conceal your deeds from The Most High God. The astral planes and their sacred books will not save you from The Just One. The mysteries you keep are not eternal but will burn with The Deceiver. Come out of it while there is still time. Forsake your oaths, renounce your agreements, and repent of your sins, even your secret sins. (Psalm 19) Call Upon Yahweh in the day of trouble, and He will deliver you. (Psalms 21 & 50)
No matter what has mingled itself in your blood, willingly or not, no matter who your father was or the way you were conceived or created, you also can be redeemed and restored. Even if they genetically spliced you and diced you with abominations and creatures of chaos, you too can know The Messiah if you desire. The pureblood in my body once carried the seed markers you all know too well. And yet I live, I live, and by the power of Yahweh, I have been baptized into His Kingdom. He has given me a transfusion so that I can be made like Him now.
The black tomes pulled from Uruk, and those of Anak could not keep my soul in their bloodstained pages. If I yet endure until the end then, The Son of The Living God who has written my name in The Book of Life will tell me, “Well done my good and faithful servant, now enter my shalom and rest.”
Through my repentance and renunciation of oaths and agreements, along with His conquering of Death, I was translated from The Kingdom of Darkness into The Kingdom of His dear Son. No amount of contracts I had with those Ancient Ones could withstand the power of repentance and the authority of The Captain of the Heavenly Hosts in contending with my former masters. If you have “sold your soul,” know this: the soul you sold was never yours to sell away as it was already purchased by Messiah thousands of years ago. The Enemy and his ministers are liars, and even if they hold silver rich contracts in your blood, these too can be washed away, and you can be made new in The Kingdom of Heaven.
Come out and speak The Secrets; do not allow another generation to suffer the bondage of deception, guilt, fear, shame, and torment. There is no freedom in your fears; there is no free power in your black or white magical workings; there are only slaves in The Kingdom of Darkness. The Transyuggothian Magic will not answer you in your day of trouble; they who come and speak to you will be silent in your calamity. (1 Kings 18) No matter how much power you wield, or how many people you control, or what the scale of the empires you rule over is, you are a slave. If you choose to stay in the darkness and continue on your path of deception, it is because you are a coward, you are weak and blinded by your pride. May Yahweh Elohim, The Creator of Heaven and Earth rebuke the powers, dominions, thrones, and principalities who rule over you and draw you out while there is still time. May He break your occult power to the highest level and do whatever it takes to bring you out of your bondage. Repent now while His mercy is still long-suffering, before His justice flows like a river soaking the earth in your arrogant blood.
Do you think your symbol rich rings will save you? Do you think your “brothers” or “sisters” will defend you? The Knights will not keep you safe. They will not conceal your kingdom as it burns for the world to see. Too many times I looked in the eyes of men like you as I cut their signet rings from their fingers. I heard their pleas, the oaths they’d sworn to The Orders they’d served. I heard them try to convince themselves that The Grandmaster would protect them or surely their Family would spare them. And yet none of their gods came to save them, their Familiars abandoned them in their hour of need.
Your arrogance has blinded you; your kingdoms are built on betrayal, pride, and lust. You are beguiled like Eve in the Garden, who was promised apotheosis and godhood with secret knowledge, the opening of eyes, and all of The Serpent’s lies, but these lies brought only death instead. Her body turned to dust just like yours will whether by an assassin’s blade, a bullet, or a poisoned cup. It may come from a compromising video posted online showing the world what you do in your initiations, rituals, and rites. Remember now: Families take great care to document those moments and your pedophilic pleasures were not so secret after all. Those blackmail videos will come crawling out of the cracks and crevices they’ve been carefully preserved in, and the world will see what you have done behind your temples, churches, lodges, clubs and chambers’ doors. They will hear the cries of children you defiled, the gendered identities you’ve bent and broken. They will see the familiar faces of politicians, judges, chiefs of police, bishops, and popes destroying the innocent.
Your Christian, Catholic, Mormon, Islamic, and Buddhist masks you hide behind will burn, and the people will see who you are. They will hear your secret oaths like these;
“I do further promise and declare that I will have no opinion or will of my own… but will unhesitatingly obey each and every command that I may receive from my superiors in the militia of the Pope… I will wage a relentless war, secretly and openly against all heretics… I will spare neither age nor sex… I will rip up the stomachs and wombs of their women, and crush their infants’ heads against the walls in order to annihilate their execrable race. I will secretly use the poisonous cup, the strangulation cord… either in public or private, as I at any time may be directed to do so by any agents of the Pope or superior of The Brotherhood of The Holy Father of The Society of Jesus.” (Extreme Oath and Induction of The Society of Jesus)
There are so many other even more vile oaths taken in secret chambers by men and women of meager statues and presidential powers alike. As long as our “judicial” system is run by men and women who have sworn these oaths there will never be justice brought to the oppressed, needy and victims of monsters. It is time for what they swear in secret to be played for all ears to hear. Your days of hidden deeds are drawing to a close.
I know that I am nothing to many of you; other names by which was I known once caused many restless nights, but I am no longer that man of bondage, the Sicario of dread, but instead, I am a man whose freedom has been won. The last few decades of my life may have meant little but the lives of the children you murdered, their futures taken before they were three years old, matter more then you can ever know. Dani’s mother who was ritually murdered in front of him matters more than anything I will ever do. The day in that cheap room where you made me kill Soldier, you ignited the fuse of the bomb of your destruction. You lit it when you sodomized my friends and murdered my battle buddy in a “non-combat related incident” in another needless war.
Oh, you reckless and arrogant slaves. Just because the collars around your neck and shackles around your wrists are made of gold, onyx, and rubies, you are not any better than the rest. The innocent blood you shed to build your kingdoms testifies against you day and night. It is crying out for justice, and He is coming for you. Like a thief in the night, His terrible and unimaginable Day of Destruction is coming. He will tread you down to the dust, and the ravens and vultures shall pick of your carcasses on the day of your death.
The smell of sulfur is thick in the air, and it is the pit of fury about to be unleashed. Samson is standing with his hands on the many temples’ columns. Your Dagon-worshiping, drunken, pedophilic orgies are going to end with the roof collapsing on your heads. Hundreds, then thousands and millions, will speak The Secrets and then the masses will demand justice that is long overdue. You have underestimated them long enough. You will not be able to keep them dumbed down, drugged up and deceived forever, and once they know what you do in your groves and on your Democratic and Republican taxpayer-funded trips on the Lolita Express, they will burn your kingdom to the ground. The frequent visitors on the little St. James Island will not be able to hide their deeds. The people will come to see what rules the producers, writers, actors, and guilds who partake of the defiled flesh at their spirit cooking’s and back room Industry compromises. They will learn of what the altar boys are made to do with their “fathers, mothers, sisters, bishops, friars, cardinals, and priests.” They will not believe your lies, discrediting campaigns and cover-ups. Woe to you for the day of justice and reckoning is nearly upon you.
Understand this: some of those whose blood was proofed and pure have been sent to you to warn you. I am not the first, nor will I be the last, but if you do not heed this call, the guilt of your blood is no longer on my hands. I have given you the warning as The Father had given me mine. What my father and other generations of Reynolds, Aldobrandine, Rothschilds, Medicis, Astors, and Merovingians chose to cover up will be revealed to the masses. My father decided to stay in his house of cards even though the fiery winds of justice are preparing to blow. I pray to The Almighty they repent and confess their secrets and sins before that match is lit. My father has made his choice, so too have I. I pray you will listen to this warning and heed this watchman’s cry.
I am not going to give you softened words of disagreement; I intend to smack you in the face as Yahweh did to me. He did not blunt His Living Word when it cut through my heart. He did not warn me with soft whispers and delicate cautions. He gave me a shadow of His glory, and I knew then I would die and with me would come the weight of ten thousand horrors. I knew there would be no escaping the repercussions of the spiritual consequences of my meddling’s. I knew in an instant if I chose to have continual fellowship with the darkness, I would perish in the flames of His justice. They will not be temporary but inescapable.
There is a judgment waiting for us all. No matter the promises – Artificial Intelligence, Holographic Avatars, Transhumanism, Genetic Enhancement, Quantum Reality, or whatever Cup of Life they promise you – all will be rendered their final due. I decided to surrender to Him rather than face the outer darkness or the deepest flames. I chose to surrender to Him and become an inheritor of hope, a rescued one. I write you these words so that you may be without excuse. None of you is innocent, not even one. There is hope to those who surrender; and to you who choose not to: know that He is coming for you nonetheless. You cannot escape The Holy One of Israel.
I call to you who are lonely; I appeal to you who are afraid. I call to you who are weeping in the darkness wondering if He heard you last night. I reach out to you who are the fractured ones, the little parts, and pieces of ravaged souls. I entreat you who are weary and broken, unsure if your story still matters or if it ever will. The emptiness you feel inside can be made full of hope, passion, and joy. Do you not know that you were made for a purpose? Do you not know that your days matter? There is so much meaning for the moments of your most deviant shame, your innermost pain, and worst regrets. These are not your curses; these are not your debts. These do not have to be the skeletons in your closet and the leverage point of your shame. The darkness, which took a room in your memories, can be evicted and the light of hope can shine instead.
The Redeemer will turn your crippled pains into the hands who hold a weeping mother after she had a miscarriage last night. They will wrap a naked child that finally had someone see their affliction and say, “No more!” They will restore the broken with healing hands of hope. They will comfort a wounded one who finally found the courage to leave an abuser, an enabler, or handler and brute. They will feed the starving when they learn He rescues the hungry from their need for more. I do not speak this from philosophical ponderings, but from the blood, sweat, and tears shed in this war that has been raging in my life since the days of my murderous conception.
Every day I woke up dead. Some days I woke up my heart no longer beating, limbs cold as ice. I was a walking monster controlled by many master’s manipulative hands and torturous tricks. I was dying and who was there to tell me, “Don’t quit!” Who was there to say, “Don’t give up!” Where were the believers who saw my bruises and bandaged my bleeding wounds of abuse? I had no mother to comfort me after I was defiled; I had the posters on the wall, toy cars in my pockets, and my fingernails to chew on.
I had no one to hold me when I vomited blood in the toilet at school after a ritual night in third grade. The bullies picked on me and pushed me into lockers calling me a faggot while feasting on my insecurities. Where was the teacher who saw me and prayed for me to be set free? Where were the people who walked in authority and saw the cut marks on my body, the wounded cries for help? Where, please tell me, where were the deliverers? Where were the men and women casting out demons, raising the dead, and giving sight to the blind I read of in His Word?
They were not waiting for me in a church, a seminary, temple or mosque down the road. No matter how many thousands of times I have sat in those places of so called worship I had not seen the power of The Living God and it is time to address why.