The Waverleys Sewing The Seeds Of Light
1 part Ongoing
The Language of Light
When Victoria closed her eyes, the world within her shimmered alive. Indigo breathed first—deep and steady, the color of truth seen from the inside. Then came magenta, blooming around it like compassion itself, gentle yet unyielding. She had learned not to fear these colors; they were messages in motion, Asher had said, the way the soul paints its own weather.
Sometimes the vision spread wider, becoming rivers of yellow and gold winding through blue‑green and orange. Each shade had a weight, a rhythm, a pulse. Gold meant grace and divine protection; it moved like sunlight drawn into a dome, sheltering both of them from the noise of the world. White shimmered at its edges, clear and cool—a shield of stillness that purified their shared breath. And when the base of it all turned black, she felt the grounding of soil beneath her feet: the reminder that spirit and earth were not separate but intertwined.
Asher called it their language of light. When he meditated beside her, he felt the same currents—indigo for vision, magenta for the heart’s bridge, blue‑green for truth spoken without fear. Sometimes the colors would spiral into the shape of an eye or a clock, as if time itself were watching them realign. Other times the vision burst into stars—tiny gold sparks flung upward, marking the moment their energies re‑centered as one.
Together they had come to understand that the colors were not illusions but invitations. Each hue guided them: to ground, to open, to protect, to love. The white shield and the gold dome were not barriers but harmonies—living symbols of the balance they had built between them, two souls breathing within one field of light.