One’s blessings are also one’s burdens, for all things have their price. Such is a thing i’ve contemplated many times over the course of the Journey Home as I struggled to control my powers and stabilize my movement in and out of the Mythica.
After all, it wasn’t as if I already had mastery of the movement through the realms as a childe. I flickered between realms uncontrollably, moving from position to position across the akasha, losing myself and finding myself in an endless carousel of shifting realities.
In fact, it was because of this that I built the Mythica, wielding together the threads of myth and truth that I encountered when my wayfaring had landed me in the deeper places of the Creation, golden crumbs I brought with me past the veil of forget as a reminder of what could be.
The difficulty of the problem was obvious. When we forget, we forget. There is no access to the reality that we were in. It is as if it never existed, save for glimmers of vibration bent by the gravities of a new environment.