Chapter 4 — Traveling Between Worlds
The morning after our first “mission” briefing arrived with a quiet stillness. The air was cool and fresh, and the pale golden light of dawn spilled across the world outside, making everything seem softer, almost enchanted. As Jadz and I walked toward the shed, I could feel a strange energy all around us. It wasn’t something I could see or touch, but it was there—an invisible hum, like a vibration just beneath the surface of reality. It felt as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something extraordinary to happen.
Adam stood waiting for us at the shed’s doorway. His expression was calm and steady, but his eyes held a spark of intensity, a quiet purpose that made me feel both nervous and excited at the same time. Beside him, Eve stood with her hands clasped in front of her. Her face, as always, was serene, but today there was something else—a subtle energy, like she was anticipating something wonderful.
“Today,” Adam said, his voice steady and filled with meaning, “you will see what lies beyond.”
Jadz stopped in her tracks and glanced at me, her expression somewhere between wary and curious. “Beyond what, exactly?” she asked, her tone sharp but not dismissive.
Eve took a step forward, her movements graceful and deliberate. Her voice, soft but somehow commanding, filled the space between us. “Beyond this world,” she said, “into realms that are hidden, yet eternal. The Names you’ve begun to learn—they’re more than tools. They are keys. And it is time for you to discover what they can unlock.”
I exchanged a look with Jadz. She raised an eyebrow, as if to say, Can you believe this? But something in Eve’s words made me feel a sense of wonder, as though the world I thought I knew was about to expand in ways I couldn’t yet understand.
Adam and Eve led us into the shed, which had once again transformed. It no longer resembled the simple storage space we’d seen when we first arrived. The walls, plain and ordinary just a day ago, now seemed alive. They pulsed faintly, as though made of some soft, glowing material instead of wood. The air inside was thick with energy, not heavy, but charged, like the air before a storm.
At the center of the room, a large circular symbol glowed on the floor. It was intricate, made up of swirling lines and shapes that seemed to move if I looked too long. The light it gave off wasn’t harsh or blinding; it was warm, almost alive, and it seemed to tug at something deep in my chest, like it was calling me.
Adam gestured toward the glowing circle. “This,” he explained, his voice calm and deliberate, “is a gate. With the Names, you can access realms that exist beyond the physical plane. These places are not imaginary. They are as real as the ground you stand on. But they operate on higher frequencies, beyond the normal range of human perception.”
Jadz folded her arms across her chest, her skeptical nature kicking in. “And we’re just supposed to... what? Step into it? Like we’re walking through a door into some other dimension?”
Eve’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Not quite,” she said gently. “The journey between worlds is not like opening a door. It requires preparation—alignment of your mind, your body, and your spirit. If even one part of you is out of balance, the journey becomes more difficult, even dangerous.”
Her words sent a small shiver down my spine. This wasn’t some light-hearted experiment. It was something serious, something that required care and focus.
Adam handed each of us a card with glowing symbols on it. The one in my hand had the letters Samech Yud Tet inscribed on it. As I held it, the symbols seemed to give off a soft, warm glow that I could feel in my palm. “Miracles,” Adam said, his voice steady. “You can call upon this name when you have perfected the elimination of envy, anger, selfishness, and self-pity.”
Jadz’s card had Aleph Lamed Daled written on it. Eve explained, “This is for defense of the evil eye from others. To walk through the spiritual realms, you need faith—not just in the Creator, but in yourself.”
We followed Adam and Eve’s instructions carefully. Standing in a glowing circle on the floor, we each held our cards tightly. Adam began to chant softly, his voice deep and calm. The sound wasn’t loud, but it seemed to vibrate through my whole body. Eve joined in, her voice blending with Adam’s. Together, their voices filled the air with energy that was almost like something you could touch.
“Close your eyes,” Adam said gently. “Focus on the Name on your card. Take a deep breath and let it guide you.”
I closed my eyes and focused on the Name. Slowly, I repeated it in my mind. As I did, a strange feeling came over me. It was like the edges of my body melted away, replaced by something bigger. I felt as if I wasn’t just standing there—I was expanding. The air around me seemed to grow thicker, almost alive, filled with a warmth that wrapped around me like a soft blanket.
When I opened my eyes, the shed we had been in was gone.
We were standing in a place unlike anything I had ever imagined. The sky above us wasn’t just blue—it was a swirl of colors: gold, purple, and deep blue. The colors shifted and mixed together in ways that didn’t make sense but were breathtaking. The ground beneath us was soft, like moss, but it glowed faintly, as if there was light inside it. Around us stood tall, graceful trees with crystal-like leaves that sparkled in the colorful light. The trees gave off a soft hum, like a quiet, beautiful song.
“Welcome to the Garden of Eden,” Eve said, her voice full of awe.
Adam and Eve led us down a winding path through the garden. Every step we took made the ground light up gently, as though it were alive and responding to us. The air was filled with scents—some like flowers, some earthy, and something else I couldn’t name, but that was sweeter than anything I’d ever smelled. A deep sense of calm filled me as I walked, like everything in the world was exactly as it should be. But under that calm, I could feel something else—an energy, a sense of endless possibilities, as though this place was brimming with potential waiting to be discovered.
As we walked, Eve stopped near a small, glowing pool of water. The surface shimmered, reflecting the colors of the sky above. “Come here,” she said gently, motioning for Jadz and me to sit beside her. “This water shows more than your reflection. It reveals the state of your spirit.”
Jadz knelt down, her usual doubtful expression softening as curiosity took over. She leaned closer, peering into the water. At first, she saw her own reflection, clear and still. But as she watched, the image began to change. Shadows appeared, curling around her reflection like creeping vines. They clung to her, dark and heavy.
Eve placed a reassuring hand on Jadz’s shoulder. “These shadows represent your doubts and fears,” she explained softly. “They block your vision and weigh down your spirit.”
Jadz’s brow furrowed, and her reflection in the pool rippled as if responding to her frustration. “And how am I supposed to get rid of them?” she asked, her voice edged with impatience.
Eve smiled kindly. “You don’t fight them. You let them go.” She lifted her hand and traced a glowing symbol in the air: Mem Hey Shin. The symbol lingered, shimmering softly. “This is the Name for healing,” Eve said.
“Focus on this Name,” she instructed. “Breathe deeply. Let it fill your mind and heart. When you feel ready, let the shadows go.”
Jadz hesitated, her face tense with doubt. But after a moment, she closed her eyes and began to repeat the Name softly to herself. Her features relaxed, and her breathing slowed. As she focused, the shadows in the water began to shrink and fade away. In their place, her reflection grew brighter, glowing with a soft, warm light.
While Jadz worked with Eve, Adam guided me to a nearby tree. It was enormous, with golden leaves that sparkled in the swirling light of the sky. Hanging from its branches were glowing orbs, each one holding a swirling, glowing symbol inside.
Adam stopped and looked up at the tree with respect. “These orbs,” he said, “contain the Names in their purest form. They aren’t just words or tools—they are alive. Each one holds energy and meaning, a connection between this world and the next.”
He reached up and carefully plucked one of the glowing orbs from a low-hanging branch. Inside it, I could see the symbol Vav Shin Resh, glowing and shifting as if it were breathing. He handed it to me, and the moment I held it, I felt a soft vibration in my chest, like the rhythm of a heartbeat.
“This Name helps release painful memories while strengthening the ones that remind you who you are,” Adam explained, his tone calm and steady. “But healing memory is not about pretending the past was different. It means allowing the Light to loosen what still hurts, so the lessons can remain without the wound controlling you.”
I closed my eyes, holding the glowing orb close to my chest. I focused on the Name inside it, Vav Shin Resh, letting its gentle vibration fill my thoughts. Almost instantly, vivid images began to flow through my mind. I saw a golden field of wheat swaying softly in the wind, each stalk full and ripe. Next, a wide river came into view, its waters overflowing and spreading life to the land around it. Then, I saw two friends embracing warmly, their faces lit with joy. Each image carried a feeling of abundance—not just physical, but emotional and spiritual. The experience was both powerful and calming, like touching something vast and endless yet deeply personal.
As the day went on, the garden itself became a classroom. Every path, every tree, every moment seemed to hold a lesson. At one point, we arrived at a deep, dark chasm that cut through the ground like a wound. Spanning the chasm was a narrow bridge made entirely of shimmering light. It flickered as though it might disappear at any second.
Adam stood beside the bridge and gestured toward it. “This is a lesson in faith,” he said simply. “To move forward, you must trust.”
Jadz stared at the bridge, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed it. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said, her voice edged with doubt. “How can something made of light hold our weight?”
Eve stepped beside her, her voice calm and steady. “It’s not about the light,” she said. “It’s about your belief. If you trust it, the bridge will hold.”
I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. Swallowing my fear, I stepped onto the glowing bridge. At first, the surface felt strange beneath my foot—soft, yet firm enough to hold me. I took another step, and as I did, the light under my feet seemed to grow stronger, steadier. With every step forward, my confidence grew. When I reached the other side, I turned and looked back at Jadz, who was still standing at the edge, frozen.
“Come on!” I called to her, holding out a hand. “You can do this.”
Jadz muttered something under her breath—probably a curse—then took a shaky step onto the bridge. She paused, her face tense, but when the light held her weight, she took another step, then another. Each step seemed to build her confidence, and by the time she reached my side, she was breathing hard but wore a look of reluctant admiration.
“Okay,” she said, her voice low. “Maybe there’s something to this after all.”
Later in the day, as the sun-like light of the garden began to soften, Adam and Eve gathered us beneath a massive tree. Its trunk was wide and strong, and its branches stretched so high they seemed to touch the colorful sky above. The air under the tree felt different—still, peaceful, yet alive with energy.
Adam spoke first, his voice calm and clear. “The Names you encountered today are more than tools for navigating this garden. They are keys to understanding life itself. Each Name holds a lesson, a way to connect the physical world with the divine. Remember this: a physical act is always required to activate intangible forces in our world. It is the fusion of spirit and action that gives the 72 Names their power.” Eve nodded, her expression gentle. “Protection, faith, release, abundance, trust—these are not just ideas. They are energies you can carry with you wherever you go. The Names remind us that we are never truly alone. The Creator’s power flows through all of us.”
Jadz and I exchanged a look, the weight of the day’s lessons settling over us. I could see a change in her—her usual skepticism had softened, replaced by something more thoughtful. I felt different, too. Despite my own doubts, I couldn’t deny the power of what I had experienced. These Names were not just strange symbols or ancient words. They were alive, filled with energy, creation, and meaning. And for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of connection to the world, to the people around me, and to something greater than myself.
As we returned to the physical world, the garden fading like a dream, I felt a deep sense of wonder. The Names had shown us something far bigger than ourselves—a reality where the lines between the physical and spiritual disappeared, leaving behind endless possibilities.
That night, Jadz and I sat together in the quiet of our room, thinking about everything we had seen and learned. “Do you think it was real?” I asked softly, barely above a whisper.
Jadz turned to look at me. Her usual sharp, no-nonsense attitude was replaced by a softer, more thoughtful expression. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But whether it was real or not, it felt... important.”
I nodded. I didn’t have the words to explain what I was feeling. The Names, the garden, and the lessons had changed something deep inside me, though I couldn’t explain exactly what.
One thing was clear: this journey was only just beginning. The road ahead would test us in ways we couldn’t even imagine. But for the first time, I felt ready to face it. I wasn’t alone—I had the Names and the wisdom they carried with them.
As the world outside grew still and quiet, and sleep began to pull me in, I whispered one word into the darkness: “Vav Hei Vav.”
And for the first time, I truly felt its strength.