Prologue: Must Read; Vital Story Parts

A message to the reader,

Before you embark upon lifetimes of wonder and adventure, I want you to know. When I wrote this, I intended for you to really use your creative imagination. In each story our Starseeds tell, I will try to give you a visual idea of what is happening. Ultimately, I want you to imagine: every sentence, in every paragraph; of every chapter, as a beautiful film inside your head. Our story will be told in three different parts. The first book Seth reads is about his father, our starseed Musarra. After, we will have two other characters from Musarra's story tell their versions of what they experienced, and also of their adventures away from Musarra within the stars. So if you're confused, or feel like a story arc is too vague; fear not, just keep reading. :). This story is based on actual references; in points of history, as well as the wonderful idea of a Starseed; from people all around the world. It was then molded and transformed into this explosive, heart-wrenching, imaginative story, of these souls' greatest sacrifices to save the world. I do hope you enjoy reading this, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

-----SETH-----

Life...

sometimes I wonder...

is it really worth it to be alive?

We are all born into a strange world, confused, and absent-minded; ignorant to everything around us. If you're lucky, you might end up with a nice happy little childhood. Live an eventful and easy life. In reality, most of us get lost at the beginning of it. Something along the way always happens. That one defining moment that changes everything. Whether it be in your childhood, or later on in your life. Eventually, it happens, and your whole world is flipped upside down.

I lost my mother when I was twelve. She lost her long hard-fought battle with cancer. That was my moment. My mother was a strategic military advisor and very well respected. My father was also in the military; special ops. He retired when my mother became terminally ill. They both were wonderful parents when they were here together. When my mother died, my father lost his mind a bit. He started drinking heavily and relied on prescription medications to get through his days. He was never angry or violent with me, he was a functioning addict. There were times he would get too fucked up, and I would have to take care of him. He was still always loving and kind.

He talked about crazy things when he was piss drunk. Every day he drowned himself in booze, he became lost in his emotions. Most days my father held himself together very well. As long as he took his medication he was fine, without it, he was a raving lunatic. He would tell me stories of ancient warriors who fought against the darkness in the depths of death within another dimension. He always went on about how we all needed to just expand our consciousness more and enable ourselves to exist on new frequencies.

I thought he was a drunken lunatic, overcome with madness. He would tell me, the drugs and booze drowned out the voices he fought against during the day. He would say, the memories would come back to him sometimes, haunting him in his dreams. He would always get upset with himself at the end of his ramblings, complaining, wishing he could remember more.

Whatever that meant.

I would play into his harmless delusions often. I always told him to just write down his thoughts and dreams immediately after having them, then maybe one day he could put them all together and figure it all out. My father never stopped drinking, and one day it finally killed him. My father was a broken soul who suffered from an extremely traumatic life. His methods to silence his pain cost him everything in the end. He never spoke about his life, well any real parts of it anyway. Like being a special forces soldier almost all his life. He did however go on about his fantasy world from his dreams, nothing but the ramblings of a mad man.

I was a young adult when he passed.

He ignored his health, and eventually his liver shut down on him. His funeral was small, the military paid their respects, his reception was brief. We didn't have many family members or friends left alive. Everything he owned was left to me, I was their only child.

I returned to my father's home after the funeral. It had been so long since I had been back to that house. It still smelled of him. The lingering musk of his burnt-out cigarettes still filled his room. My mother's things were still in her closet; still collecting dust from so many years. Everything was all still as I left it.

I had originally only planned on staying briefly, just to feel close to them one last time. An unexpected storm came through, the winds picked up outside and a weather advisory went off on my phone. I decided to just stay the night at the house. The roads looked too dangerous to drive on in this storm. The nostalgia of every room filled my heart, for a brief moment I felt the joy I had as a small child again. The late-night movie binges with mom, playing the newly released games every weekend on the console with dad. The family gatherings and the barbecues we had out in the back by the pool in the summer.

Memories...maybe that's the meaning of life?

Creating and cherishing the ones that make you happy and forgiving those for the ones that made them sad.

I missed my parents.

I started looking through Dad's old boxes, hoping to find some of the old games we played when I was a kid. I came across old pictures of the family vacations we went on. I held the picture of our last vacation before mom got sick. My stomach sank, my eyes became heavy, a tremendous sadness clawed it's way up me. I shook it off and put the picture back. That's when I came across it. Up way high in his closet, a big chest sat. I had never seen it before. I pulled it down and took it over to my father's desk. I opened it up and found two large, very old books inside, and one fairly new book.

It was called; Starseed: Musarra.

The two large ones were called; Starseed: Serenity. The name of my mother. Interesting? I thought to myself. The last one was called starseed also but the name was so damaged I couldn't make it out. In the chest also, was a letter. Signed by my father. My name was written on it.

"Seth,

My son, if you are reading this then I have finally descended into the next realm. I'm so sorry my boy, you are now an adult as I write this so I hope you are at peace with my death. I'm alive again somewhere, I promise you, looking through the vast void of space and time, trying to feel the energy of your mother. I will find her again. I will always find her again. I know you thought my stories were nothing but the conditions of my madness, I assure you they were all true. I know I'm going to die soon, son, I remember everything now, I wrote my whole story down for you to read, just like you told me. I only wish I had done better by you in this life. You didn't deserve such a pitiful father as me. I lost myself in this life, quite a bit son, and I'm sorry for that. I hope this letter and the books in this chest find their way to you soon. I hope after you read these stories you'll wake up too. I hope you'll realize who you are truly meant to be. Maybe you'll read everything and just finally decide your old man was truly just a lunatic, and if so, just cherish the message in my stories then son. Either way, what's important to me is just that you read these stories. The three books here are the accounts of souls who lived in another time, within another universe. The story of Musarra is my account I've written down everything I could remember. Forgive me if I left anything out. I have faith you'll find all the answers you need after you've read all three books. The story of serenity was a book your mother wrote long ago. The final story is of a dear friend of mine, who we lost lifetimes ago. We bought his book badly damaged at an estate sale when you were young. We never realized what drew us to it. As we read his story, the memories flooded our minds. Mine haunting me every day, like some distant nightmare I needed to defeat. You're mother and I only thought of them as dreams at first. If only I had begun to remember our lives sooner, I could have woken her up from it. Things could have been so different. Fear not though my son, I'm going off into the great unknown to find them all again and truly finish this story. Remember that I have always loved you and will continue to always love you even through my journeys into the voids of the afterlife."

Overcome with grief, I felt the insanity my father struggled with in his final days or maybe even hours after he finished writing this. Nevertheless, I would read his stories and cherish them just as he asked. The storm was hitting heavy, I could hear the old roof creak and crack, the shutters shook violently along the outside walls of the house, I could see the trees bent over in the windows; as the wind raged down the streets.

I took the book of Musarra out, as lightning cracked through the sky, followed by thunder close behind it. I began to read my father's tale. I was not prepared for the adventure I was about to embark on. To read the stories of my father and all the lives he claimed to live; it excited me a bit. He had finally put his ramblings in order. I turned to the first page, it read,

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