Nicolai Levashov
About Spirit, Mind and many other things...
Svetlana de Rohan Levashova
Part 1. Childhood. Vol 1. Awakening


The sorrow in my eyes
Will remain forever.
My soul cries
A river of grief.

Svetlana’s amazing book will never be completed. Not because she had nothing left to write about, but because she is not with us anymore. Only the last two chapters remained to be written, but, she was deprived of the chance to do that.

Neither I nor she was in a hurry to promulgate all that we had been through for many years. We’d been badgered from as early as 1993, and the persecution still goes on. It became particularly aggressive after my return to Russia in 2006. Almost every week our ill-wishers arranged ugly things for us. Their activity in France increased notably after I had installed a psi-field generator in our estate in 2003 and "miracles" began to occur there. I have written about them at length in the series The Source of Life. The French authorities tried everything possible and impossible to expropriate our Castle, together with all its "miracles", by lawless actions within the limits of the law, skillfully manipulating it.

If people only knew, in what conditions Svetlana wrote her book! During the autumn of 2008 and the winter of 2009 she typed the chapters sitting in front of the computer in gloves and winter clothes. Only her amazing green eyes, which would change colour from sea-green to emerald, peeked out of the thick scarf. Breath coming out of her mouth was visible because the temperature in the Castle was below zero, just a little higher than outside. Nevertheless, Svetlana kept writing and shifting into the past to extract minute details of the past events she wrote about. Then she would browse through mountains of books and search the Internet for any information which could solidly confirm the Truth of her account.

The most amazing thing was that she always found confirmation of what she heard and saw during her time travels back to events which happened in her childhood. She dug up evidence about a Venetian witch called Isidora and a blood-thirsty Chief Inquisitor named Caraffa (later Pope Paul IV) and a lot of other information. She gathered thousands of unique photos for her future books and dreamed about a time when she would be able to write her DaArya (about a sunk continent where our ansestors, the people of the White Race came more than 600 000 years ago and have lived there for almost 500 000 years – E.L.) and The Children of the Sun (which was going to tell the true story of the Cathars which were wiped from the face of the Earth, killed and burned, by the Catholic Church – E.L.) and continue her autobiographic Revelation where she had time to tell us only about her childhood.

The book does describe what happened to her in her childhood, but because of that it became more a story about the many outstanding people she knew due to her distinguished talents. The book became a hymn to the magnificent heroes of the past, whose names either fell into oblivion (as happened to Isidora) or their actions, and the memory of them, was totally perverted, just as it was with Radomir (the true name of the White Hierarch who we know as Jesus Christ – E.L.) and Magdalena.

She could return their good name just to them by telling people about their actions and feats. And how many real heroes are there for whom she is unable to do so? Her new books will remain unwritten forewer!

Her book has brought the Light which people needed so much in order to preserve high moral standards, which lately have been hugely and outrageously corrupted. She gave examples of how genuine people fought (and died) not for their own benefit, but for the sake of Truth, in order to bring the radiant future, for others, slightly closer.

Svetlana proved with her life, which many will call heroic, that she has the right to occupy a fitting place next to those courageous people about whom she wrote in her book. She never considered that she did something heroic. She simply did what her conscience and heart prompted her to do. The enemies fiercely attacked her after every chapter of the book. Certainly, she had the protective structures I had created for her but, even when a person wears body armour, a bullet that strikes it will knock him metres sideways, badly hurting the body and marking it with bruises.

And if bullets pound the body armour incessantly, day after day, year after year, then I think there is no need to explain what a person may experience. We must also take into account that all the "bullets" are of a different calibre and that the enemies wait for any opportunity to inflict a blow on the most unprotected place which immediately appears as soon as a person manifests an emotion that opens his protective system.

I "rewarded" both the performers and initiators of the attacks every time according to their "just deserts", but their number did not decrease. Complete ignorance of what happened to their predecessors, self-confidence and, certainly, their avidity pushed them to perform their dirty deeds. They beat Svetlana in order to prevent her travelling back in time and, consequently, telling people the truth about events of the past centuries.

This spring the blow was one of the strongest, but I succeeded in saving her. The enemies managed to damage her memory very seriously. Almost two months of her life were totally erased at once and if I could not stop this process, her memory would have been totally destroyed. I succeeded not only in halting the memory loss but also in recovering what had been erased. This attack did not stop Svetlana! As soon as she summoned enough forces to sit in front of her computer, she immediately proceeded to write new chapters. Permanent stress and blows greatly damaged her eyes. She almost grew blind. I regularly worked on returning her sight to her. Every time she could see better, she immediately rushed to the computer and continued writing... This was how the last chapters appeared. She feared not having the time to write the final two chapters of her first book which regrettably became the last.

The enemies began to deliver their blows on Svetlana incessantly after our interference in the summer events of 2010 and the carrying out of other actions directed at preventing the Black from "slamming the door" so that the whole World would be destroyed. The last time we fulfilled a serious task was at the end of October, 2010. Then Svetlana gathered all her forces to bring it to an end. We succeeded in destroying a very dangerous system which the parasites prepared as a farewell "present" to all.

And they fell into a wild frenzy and began to attack non-stop, especially at night. We could not have a good night’s rest. Sometimes we managed to sleep a bit in the morning, because the strength of the enemies’ blows weakened with the sunrise, just as it should be in the case of evil spirits. This went on day by day, especially in the last year. It was so hard for her. Sometimes I could see tears in her beautiful eyes, but later Svetlana said: "Don’t think that I’ve surrendered. It’s just that people’s treachery and meanness hurts too much. You open your heart to them and get a "knife in your back" in return".

Svetlana looked at the world with the innocent eyes of a child. Her laughter, which has sounded very rarely lately, was always filled with purity and light which in some miraculous way imbued my heart with healing ease and joy.

A few days before her murder she shared her plans with me, regarding her new books. She regretted that she could not type and see anything on the computer screen even with a magnifying glass with the highest magnifying power. All the time she asked me when I would restore her sight so that she could finish at least two last chapters of the first volume of Revelation. She so much feared not having enough time to complete it!

I told her that she rushed to the computer too soon, that she should not do that when her sight became just slightly better and that the Dark gave me little chance to restore the sight to at least an average level, inflicting blows into the visual areas of the brain, into her wonderful eyes. She understood that and at the same time did not accept. Lately she often said that everything would be all right, but she would be gone. She was afraid that something could happen to her and there would nobody with her; that I would not be beside her. She feared that, and that is precisely what happened.

On November 11, 2010 a very powerful blow was inflicted upon her already strongly worn little heart, but that time the Dark failed to achieve their black aim. I succeeded in restoring the damage quickly enough. I had been insisting on a new qualitative transformation for several days now which, once realized, would leave the Dark boiling with malice and impotence because of the impossibility of doing anything to her. It was exactly each new qualitative transformation of the brain and spirit which I carried out in the past on a regular basis which allowed me easily and quickly enough not only to stop the attacks of the Dark, but also to eliminate the systems of which the perpetrators were part.

Each transformation resulted in serious qualitative changes which sometimes deeply amazed Svetlana and me, and that was not an easy task, because we have seen and experienced a lot in the course of our fight with the Dark of every stripe. This time the transformation should have become the next turning point of our evolutional development.

I was impatient to carry out this work as soon as possible. But the time difference of two hours between Moscow and France and the fact that almost every day I had to spend from 9 to 10 hours on the phone helping people with their health, in meetings with different people, let alone many other things, meant that I could not do this kind of work, which required time and concentration, earlier than 1 a.m. Moscow time. By this time I felt quite fatigued and Svetlana was tired too. Besides, this kind of work usually lasted one and a half or two hours, and it was very difficult to fall asleep afterwards, both for me and Svetlana.

Svetlana pitied and wished to spare me in the first place, because she knew that my morning phone marathon ran from 9 a.m. to 12 midday, and the evening one began at 6 and by 10 p.m. it turned into a squall of calls which rarely ceased before 1 a.m. Svetlana knew that I could not talk or work with her on Skype or phone with total calmness and ease, when my work phone was "red-hot" with calls from people who needed my help. I could not allow myself to leave them unanswered while being busy with another, albeit very important, thing.

I became tense, Svetlana perceived that and felt slightly hurt when I said that people were waiting for my help, and replied: "And what about me, am I not one of those people?" "Of course you are, – I reassured her, – You are the most important person in my life, but we can find time for talks and work, while many people are not in such a privileged position and are unable to call me or get my help at any other time".

Thus, we mostly could have time for our needs only on weekends, on condition that neither she nor I had any urgent meetings with other people.

There were also other impediments to carrying out the new transformation I had planned. On Thursday, November 11 Svetlana got the next blow to her heart. I had to find time in my daily routine and restore it. But lately the transformation still could not be done at night–Svetlana was on her last legs because of severe fatigue after the blow and the loads which I had to employ on her to bring her to a relatively normal state. She almost fell asleep in front of the monitor when we chatted on Skype that night, nodding after every word. We both laughed at it and she went to bed when our Skype conference was over at 23.38. As usual she called me from her bedroom, I put a protective night shield on her and we wished each other goodnight.

In order to let her get a break, resting from the huge overloads which her body underwent while the Dark attacked her I remained awake during the whole night, protecting her from new assaults. Certainly, I did not tell her that I stood guard over her night’s sleep. If she had known about it, her outrage would have been infinite. She always said that anything could happen to other people, including her, but I must be always in good form, ready to fight the Dark and win...

She did not think of herself even while being in precarious situations that threatened her life. She worried about our cause, for the sake of which we did not fly away when our star friends came to take us with them. Knowing that, I was a bit cunning when answering her question about when I went to bed. I said that I fell asleep earlier than I did yesterday, without specifying that yesterday I went to bed at about seven o'clock in the morning and today about six. I told her the truth, without going into details.

Besides, I often did not sleep while repulsing attacks directed toward me, studying the attackers and at the same time producing new counteractive measures which I later used to protect Svetlana. She slept very well at night from Thursday to Friday, falling into deep calm sleep. But on Friday, November 12, the Dark began to inflict powerful blows from that very morning, which was extremely unusual. We talked several times on Skype that day. First conversation was at 12.30 Moscow time and lasted almost 21 minutes, then we chatted at 1.34 for one minute and the last time I spoke to her on Skype was at 2.51 p.m. for 10 min 11 sec. This also was the last time I saw her alive.

I regret so much now that I did not speak to her longer and insist on having the transformation done. Svetlana said that she would lie down and have a quick nap and then we would definitely carry out that work. It was obvious that the deep sleep she had that night was not enough for her to have recovered from the recent blows. She slept till the evening and called me from her mobile, saying that she had overslept and hurried to walk the dogs while it was not too dark. She called me several times from that walk and asked for help, because the assaults had started again...

There was no usual Skype video conference on the evening of her murder. She called me by phone and I called her back. We talked for several minutes. Those were the last minutes I heard her amazing voice. Few know that Svetlana was a professional singer and not just a singer, but a star! In addition to having a surprisingly beautiful and tender voice, she graduated from the Vilnius conservatory. Her voice was (my hands resist writing this word) not only beautiful and tender, but also very strong.

She sang pop music and travelled all over the Soviet Union with her group – from Far East to its Western border, from Far North to the Pamir and Altai mountains. It would be easier to say where she has not been. She told me when their group went to the Pamir Mountains an excursion was organized for them. A guide led them to a very beautiful place with a rock hanging over a precipice. While the guide described the sights of the place in glowing terms, Svetlana went to the edge of the rock and sat down with her legs dangling in the air.

When the guide saw her there, his face went ashy. He crawled to her, begging her not to stir or move. Surprised by his reaction, she calmly put her feet on the rock, got up and joined the others, and the guide followed her crawling... When she told me about that, smiling the way nobody could smile, she confessed that now she hardly dared to do such a thing. But I am sure, if the necessity had arisen, Svetlana would have done it without thinking twice.

She proved her bravery in deed repeatedly over the whole time we were together! People who are not afraid of anything do not exist. Heroes fear the same way others do. The difference between them and others is that heroes are able to suppress the fear generated by the instinct of self-preservation and do what they should do; at the same time they don’t flaunt it but consider that anybody could act like this. There is another thing about heroism. It is one thing to gather one’s strength to accomplish just one heroic act, basking for the rest of one’s life in the rays of glory, and quite another to accomplish a feat every day and not consider it some special act of heroism to boast of in front of others. Svetlana was exactly this kind of person.

During all those amazing years which we spent together, we were together despite the enormous distances by which the enemies separated us. Her big warm child's, in the best sense of this word,heart shrank in fear, but despite that she went and did what needed to be done, not for her personally, but for the cause, for the sake of other people who would never know what she’d been through for that.

More of it later…

Someone may say that there were many concert groups that toured all over the Soviet Union. It is true; there were a lot of them. Svetlana sang her songs in several languages – Russian, Lithuanian and English. She was a remarkable singer, a real star. Regrettably, not very many people had the opportunity to hear her. She did not appear on TV, but that did not mean that she was insufficiently talented. Too often, a gift or a talent matters less in the modern world than who’s son or daughter you are, or how much money is in your pocket, or what "uncle" or "aunt" stands behind you. This is how the things were in Soviet times and this is exactly how they are now. Nothing changed whatsoever. I do not describe Svetlana as a talented singer to praise and idealize her, not at all! There are facts that confirm it. When the Lithuanian audience chose ten hits of the 20th century, two of her songs got onto the list, one of which occupied the top spot in the ranking! It was people’s hearts responding to her song that voted for it.

She left the stage at the peak of her popularity as a singer because of her former husband’s treachery who composed the songs and was her guitar accompanist. Only a very strong person is capable of doing such a thing! There are stars which repeatedly announce their retirement from the stage but are still there, despite there being little remaining of what they were in the days when their creativity bloomed, that is if they were anything at all to begin with.

I often asked Svetlana to sing something for me, but she always replied – some day, later. And now this "later" will never come. To tell the truth I did hear her voice on a vinyl record. It happened in 1997. I had the record but nothing to play it on. Therefore, I went on a search for a good record player and found just what I needed! With impatience I put the record on the turntable, the needle slowly went down onto the black surface of the disk and… I heard nothing. Only when I bent over the player very closely, almost sticking my ear into it, could I hear a low singing. Examination of the player showed the absence of an amplifier – I had bought just the "wheels".

Her voice purred very gently and low like a crystal-pure brook and I wanted to hear it loudly in all its beauty as quickly as possible. At once I went to buy the missing parts and returned with a very good "Sony" music system which had an amplifier and powerful speakers. I messed about with it long enough, assembling it and connecting the record player to it, and finally I could make myself comfortable and listen. The needle of the record player was new and of high sensitivity and when it touched the record, I submerged into Svetlana’s singing. Some damage to the disc created noise; nevertheless a very tender, gentle and light voice was streaming out of the speakers. My heart ached at once; I felt incredible warmth and sadness. I did not understand the words of the song which she sang in Lithuanian, but the tender sadness of it touched the very remote corners of my soul. Over time I knew the words and understood the reason for my sadness.

Later I brought the vinyl record to a sound recording studio to convert it into a ÑD. I also asked them to remove the noise from the record, and after a while I could listen to Svetlana’s voice in its primeval beauty. It is of interest that Svetlana sang this one in very low voice, but not because her voice was weak, by no means, but because she was singing a lullaby. She has a very good, operatic voice, but exactly her softly quiet singing flowed into me like light and with unbelievable tenderness. When Svetlana was far away from me, I listened to her songs, especially the lullaby, over and over again, and her singing always filled my heart with boundless sadness. Certainly, "tastes differ", but I think that in this case the matter is not only in my perception.

According to professionals I have a very powerful voice. Indeed I do. I could easily make everything shake in a Kharkov University Hall which was large enough, using no microphones, and not only there. So, I can say that it is quite easy to sing at the top of one’s voice, having such a powerful instrument, but to sing something in a low voice, so that all would hear it, is very difficult. So, the matter here is not in my partiality, but in truth.

It is of interest that Svetlana did not tell me for a long time that she graduated from a Vilnus conservatory, getting Master of Music in Voice and Piano Performance and that she was a star in Lithuania.

When she left the stage being at the peak of her popularity, she once and for all left her former husband, despite his pleading on his knees to forgive that misunderstanding which never would be repeated again. But she was unable to forgive his treachery. She left the apartment, which she had earned by herself, to him. In short, she behaved like the man should have behaved.

On sharply dropping her singing career at its peak, Svetlana did not fall into panic or depression. She mastered a new profession, that of fashion designer, getting a second higher education. She achieved success in this, which was not lesser that of a singer. She was engaged in batik creating. Let’s not forget the fact that those were the Soviet times when to make one’s way through was very difficult. Moreover, it was very complicated to find materials of at least decent quality and the necessary dyes to achieve the colour spectrum she needed. That is why Svetlana began to dye the batik in her kitchen, adding the dyes in appropriate ways and proportions to get this or that play of colour or a transition of one colour into another.

And then she sewed colourful dresses using her own designs. Her works were very popular, including among foreigners. Japanese and West-Europeans readily bought them up, I suspect, for far less money that her works cost in fact. To tell the truth Svetlana told very little about herself, wild horses wouldn't drag it from her. Her batik designer works had got the highest awards at many exhibitions when they came there from Japan and Western Europe. I don’t know how long she was doing this. She mentioned it in passing, complaining that it was almost impossible to find materials and dyes in the USSR to make her ideas a reality. On exhausting the creative potential of batik maximally, she began to immerse herself in other activities. Nevertheless, her dream to create beauty disappeared nowhere and was realized much later, in the USA, but I shall tell about it in detail in my autobiographical book The Mirror of My Soul.

I think I shall put on my web-site a disc which recorded the showing of Svetlana’s first fashion collection in 2000. Regrettably, it became the first and the last demonstration of her creations in the field of fashion, which she prepared almost all by herself from the very beginning to the very end! Fashion critics called her the best designer of the 20th century. It is of interest that such high esteem was expressed by a particular critic much feared by most fashion designers. His negative comment could well mean the crash of their career. It is one thing when a positive, and even high, estimation is given by a paid journalist, but his public declaration was a complete surprise even for Svetlana.

Nevertheless, the world of "high fashion" organized a very united badgering for her which was difficult to imagine. I shall write about all of it later, showing step by step everything we went through together. Now I would like to throw some light upon those moments of Svetlana’s life before we met, almost twenty years ago, about which she told me and about which she can not tell anyone anymore with her wonderful vivid language of not only a gifted writer, but also a gifted Person in every respect.

When Svetlana was a teenager, she got meningitis in a very heavy form. The headache was so severe that even morphine injections were unable to take the pain away. After a while the doctors said that they could not prescribe morphine as an analgesic anymore, otherwise she would become a drug addict and that she should face the unbearable pain alone, without any help from medicine. Anyone else in her place would have found the necessary stuff, by appealing to narcodealers, to seize that infernal pain at least for the time of the narcotic oblivion. Svetlana declined that option. Besides, she continued to work full-time, so that nobody even guessed that she had an unbearable permanent headache.

Svetlana also told me that her father and she had been "crazy" bibliophiles. In order to buy or exchange a book they were interested in, they were ready to go to the ends of the Earth or give a months salary for it. And they did it, they went and they paid! One day Svetlana went "book hunting" in the Lithuanian city of Kaunas, if I am not mistaken, which ended in a very interesting meeting.

When she finally got the book she wanted, Svetlana sat down on a bench in a shady alley, submerged in her thoughts, quite sorrowful ones (for which she had every reason, but they were very personal and I shall not write about them). When she came to herself, she saw a middle-aged man sitting beside and attentively looking at her. He asked her what happened that such a wonderful face expressed such a deep sadness. Svetlana desperately needed someone to somehow unburden her heart. A casual sympathetic person was a gift of fate for her, but very quickly the conversation turned to other subjects and they began to discuss the sense of life and other subjects which had given her no rest since her childhood and pushed her to search for answers to her questions in the wisdom of the East and other books which promised to open all the secrets of being to a reader.

However, these books gave her nothing but disappointment! They only lured with their promises of enlightenment, and then everything would come down to the idea that only the "great consecrated" could get these revelations, which for the rest, they said, were premature or even dangerous, both for them and for the surrounding people! What a nice strategy! I would call it a Hodja Nasreddin strategy. (Hodja Nasreddin was a satirical Sufi Turkish figure of the 13th century – E.L.) The strategy was the following: when Hodja’s stubborn donkey did not want to move in the necessary direction, he hung a carrot on a fishing-rod in front of the donkey’s nose and turned the rod where he wanted to go and the stubborn donkey reached for such a close, juicy and sweet carrot and carried his master wherever the latter pleased. Svetlana and her father, Vasiliy Vasilievich, searched for books on occultism and eastern teachings hoping to find the answers to their questions there. In vain they hoped for that. The books promised to do so, but did not keep their promises. They gave unintelligible verbiage instead of clear explanations.

So, Svetlana and a strange man had a long heart-to-heart talk. Surprised, she discovered a very clever and erudite person in many subjects which interested her in this unexpected and accidental interlocutor. They talked. Time flew. It was getting dark. Svetlana came to her senses, thanked the man for such a soul-healing conversation and rushed to the bus station to catch a bus to Alitus, the town where she lived. On bidding farewell, her interlocutor said that if she needed to, she always could find him on this bench. The words surprised her a bit, but she did not pay too much attention to them. After a while she visited Kaunas again and remembered the man with sad eyes, sat on the bench and submerged in her thoughts. Unexpectedly, she saw him again. They began to talk and again the time flew by imperceptibly.

Only when the situation repeated for the third time, did Svetlana gather her courage and ask who he was and how he appeared beside her on the bench. The man sadly smiled and said that he had liked to sit on this bench, that he was a nuclear physicist-engineer and got a mortal dose of radiation at work and now he was slowly dying and his body was in coma.

Svetlana was not surprised at the answer, because whilst being a child she often helped the dead to perform the transition, but this was the first time this kind of thing had happened to her. In her childhood she had to go with her spirit out of her body in order to see the spirits of the dead, but this time she saw the spirit of a dying person while still being in her body. Svetlana perfectly saw and heard his spirit, the way she saw and heard other living people.

She was enormously surprised, because this happened to her for the first time. Several times she met this man’s spirit. On one of her visits to Kaunas she arrived with her only object being to talk to him, he appeared again and he was different. The mysterious stranger said that he had waited for her to say goodbye, because his physical body had already died and it was time for him to go. She felt deep sadness loosing this man who became her good friend. But life is life and death is death and they have their laws…

I did not sleep the whole night from Friday 12 to Saturday 13 and went to bed at 8 a.m., being glad that it was Saturday and I did not have to begin my morning working a phone marathon. Therefore, I could allow myself to be a bit lazy. I knew that Svetlana slept normally at night and the attacks of the Dark usually come to naught in the morning and during the day. I would like to explain one thing. My keeping awake at night to guard Svetlana’s sleep from blows does not mean that I sat in the night, looked at the ceiling and muttered to myself something like "The Dark go away. I am coming". The thing is, if I fell asleep, then my spirit went to do the main work and left its clones instead to defend Svetlana (and not only her). Clones are certainly a good thing, but they are not me.

Therefore, in order not to fall asleep, I watched TV, wrote something or played computer games to keep myself in the active state. I went to bed in the morning only when my eyes began to close on their own and my head began to drop on the keyboard. Despite the absence of morning calls on Saturdays and Sundays I usually woke up at the same time I did on working days, but on realizing that it was the weekend, I stayed in bed as long as I pleased, time and again falling into a deep sleep. Saturday, November 13, did not differ in anything from other Saturdays and Sundays. It was already midday when I finally decided to stop idling and get up.

I got washed, shaved and dressed and began to await calls from Svetlana. About 3 p.m. Moscow time I made the first Skype call and then called by phone. Nobody answered me. My heart started aching and the thought "How is Svetlana?" began to hammer in my head. But I calmed myself, because we had agreed that she would call me at the least danger. Before, I sometimes called her on her mobile and caught her at the instant when she was going to fall asleep and after that she found it difficult to do it again. That is why we agreed that if I called her either on Skype or the landline, which she had at the ground floor, she would call me back at once either by phone or Skype, if she was awake.

I called her several times on the night of Friday to Saturday and the very latest was a Skype call at 6 a.m. It was highly likely that on seeing that call Svetlana decided to spare and not disturb me, knowing that I slept very little during several nights and had no time to take even a one hour nap in the day-time. It would have been better not to spare me that day! She would be alive then! I would have carried out the next modification of the brain and this ultrasonic weapon which had a romantic name "Music in the stone" would fail to get her. But then I did not even know that such a weapon existed. Well, I will not run ahead of the events which were arranged that tragic day in some incongruously strange way, which had never been observed before…

So, this man, or to put it more precisely his spirit, became a new starting point for Svetlana in her search for understanding of her true self and of what happened to her in our Chateau on November 13, 2010–her mean murder. Whether it was a coincidence or not, she was murdered exactly on 13 and on Saturday!

The meeting with the spirit of the dying nuclear physicist-engineer showed a new facet of her abilities which began to sparkle with all the rainbow colours of the purest diamond. Svetlana thought that her illness had put an end to the abilities she had had in her childhood, but the conversations with a sudden interlocutor proved otherwise. He also confessed that he realized how much he and other scientists were blind, not seeing the truth which was right in front of everybody’s eyes.

Certainly, there always will be ill-wishers which may say with a grin that a continuous strong headache forces a person to see even stranger things than that and will be way off the mark!

Later Svetlana found out that the man had really died that day and he was the person who he said he was. The most important thing here was the fact that the stress caused by the strongest headache took Svetlana to a fundamentally different level of interaction with other levels of reality, when she did not need to leave her physical body, as in her childhood which she described in her autobiography which will remain unfinished forever.

Many people cannot even imagine what a shy and modest person Svetlana is (I consciously write about her in present tense, because only part of her, her physical body, which, nevertheless, was infinitely dear to me, died). I made quite an effort to convince her to write her autobiography which she called Revelation. She constantly asked me whether it would be really of interest to anybody.

Then, like a child, she rejoiced at every single reader’s comment on the chapters she had written. Cordial words warmed her heart and like the living flame of a candle dispersed the thickening darkness and illuminated a tiny island in the middle of that insanity, which the enemies organized for us, where she could breathe freely and derive her strength to write again despite everything...

The meeting with this man’s spirit served as a new push for Svetlana to get to know herself and her abilities. She was eager to find out and understand what happened to her and to learn to control her abilities. And she left for Moscow to find the answers to her questions. She came to Moscow as a TV reporter on the European TV channel "Antenna", its Polish department. It is of interest that she arrived in Moscow at the end of the spring of 1988, almost at the same time as I did. However, three long years separated us from each other!!! It is likely that we visited the same places and, as it turned out later, had common acquaintances, but only in the second half of April 1991 did our paths join, not to be separated anymore. It is not important that the enemies took a lot of care to put borders and oceans between us for many years, because these obstacles were unable to split us.

Our feelings and attachment to each other grew stronger with every day, every month. The enemies are impotent to understand why neither distance nor the problems, with which they bombarded us, could separate our hearts and souls, but on the contrary, strengthened our feelings. I’ll tell why. They apply their own standards, which are no higher than the animal level of existence, to others. If a male does not have a female beside him, he starts looking for a substitute, sometimes for several. Or, if a female does not have a male near her, she will certainly find one to replace him. They do not understand that man and woman are not simply male and female. They do not understand that even animals have feelings, rather than just instincts! Their animal level consciousness (not even that of a reasoning one) cannot understand that we passed this phase long ago and go along the evolutional path of actual Man, as I call this phase of evolutional development, where the animal elements are very far from playing a leading role.

What a pity that I shall never know lots of things about Svetlana’s life before we met. Certainly, I can scan many things, but only that which I would want to scan. A scanning can be compared to the reaction of a person to an unexpected sound. On hearing it, he turns his head toward the source of the sound and sees with his own eyes what or who produces it. Besides, everything I can get by scanning will be, nevertheless, my perception of the events, and her amazing perception of the surrounding world disappeared together with her for good. Svetlana will never tell anything more with her melodious and tender voice or write the lines which come alive in the eyes of a reader. Many things will never happen because of the mean murder from round the corner. She was killed and the killers did not show their faces. This is not the behaviour of a warrior, even an enemy one. Only degenerates which have nothing human in them kill like this.

On Saturday, November 13, I called Svetlana six or seven times on the landline phone, leaving messages which each time became more anxious. I made many Skype calls and after 6 p.m. Moscow time began to call to her mobile. There was no answer. I became seriously worried. I switched onto a scanning mode and got reassuring news. Svetlana was sleeping soundly. It calmed me down. I waited some time and scanned again. Svetlana continued to sleep. When I tuned in on her, she asked me: "Help me to wake up!" I did what she asked and began to wait for her to return to her normal waking state.

Usually she needed half an hour to be completely awake. Right after waking she was always in semi sleep; although she did everything that was needed, even answered questions, but then remembered nothing of it. Only on being completely awake, was she ready to interact with the surrounding world. I waited some time and began to call to all phones and Skype, waiting for her call. I was anxious but the scanning showed that Svetlana was alive which calmed me a little. I even began to watch the film "The gold of fools" at 9 p.m. Moscow time to take off the unrest. Somewhere at 9.35 - 9.40 it was as if something exploded in my head and I immediately tuned to Svetlana and got the shocking information: "Svetlana is dead".

Several times this kind of information had been palmed off on me before, but I always scanned again, more deeply and thoroughly, and always found Svetlana alive. This time I saw that no dirty trick was played on me which upset me very much. I began to worry very seriously. I started calling again on all phones. Nothing. My agitation began to increase. Relatively recently I asked Svetlana to give me our housemaid’s mobile phone number, just in case. Frederic is her name. There was a holiday in France, but nevertheless I decided to call her. She did not pick up the phone and I left her a message that I would be very grateful if she went to our Chateau and checked how Svetlana was. At 22 hours 11 minutes Moscow time I heard a Skype call. Exited, I rushed to my working study and saw with enormous joy a Skype call from Svetlana. I cursed quietly, blaming myself for letting panic seize me and pushed the button "Video Call"…

In Moscow Svetlana very actively worked as a TV reporter. She was able to do that which was considered impossible. She was charged with filming material about the Russian Orthodox Church. She managed to get an audience with Alexis II and, on seeing her for first time, the Patriarch said to her: "You are not a simple woman, Light-and-Lucid one". Very quickly they became friends and he gave her all his direct telephone numbers and said that she could call any time day and night. They met very often and conversed a lot, discussing different subjects. When Alexander Men was killed, Alexis II called her first to convey this sorrowful news. He introduced Svetlana to an elder called Sergiy who in Svetlana’s opinion was a volkhv and keeper of old knowledge.

Their cordial relations played a crucial role in Alexis II’s decision to let the film crew with which Svetlana worked to film the Patriarch’s chambers and the altar in Sergiev Posad. Nobody ever was allowed to do that. Soon a documentary was broadcast all over Europe which got several awards, but Svetlana’s name was not mentioned in the list of the members of the production, although it was Svetlana who directed the documentary while her chief was in Warsaw. Probably they considered it sufficed simply to pay her salary and have all the credits left for them.

Svetlana was a creator and never strived for over-emphasizing what she had done. She never grabbed anything for herself, even when this something was hers. She was not a plunderer. She was a warrior, but never strived for anything for herself. It vexed her, but she did not want create any problem for anybody and always hoped that a person would act according to his or her honour and conscience. Regrettably, very few acted like this.

Also Svetlana filmed so-called "freaks"–people who possessed paranormal abilities – in Moscow for Polish television. She made video reports about Paul Globa, Tarasov, Anatoly Kashpirovsky and many others. She devoted particularly a lot of her time working with Kashpirovsky. At first Svetlana was sure that his aim was to bring good to people. He promised her to help too and take away her permanent headache, but in fact it disappeared nowhere. But soon she was disappointed in this man who never felt any love or compassion for people but used them as an instrument to achieve his ends.

Disillusioned, she told me that Kashpirovsky ordered that all letters with negative results of his healing sessions be thrown in a garbage bin, but there were lots of them–sacks of readers’ letters were thrown out. A case which happened once during his performance became the last straw. An old man had a problem with his heart during the session and Kashpirovsky did nothing to help him. Moreover, after the performance he commented something like: it’s good that the old fool did not kick the bucket during the performance. I think further comments are unnecessary.

After this Svetlana refused to do anything for this person, but he had been harassing her for a long time, calling and threatening her and her son. He also called several times when we were already together, saying that she would be very sorry about her refusal to work with him and threatening that he would make her headache unbearable, if she did not obey him. He said and did, and I had to remove his "gratitude" to Svetlana for all good things she’d done for him.

Also Svetlana got into the sight of the Soviet black freemasons. A Leo Orlov was a very influential figure in 80s and 90s in the USSR. Ministers and other officials who occupied important posts in the government often visited his apartment, groveling before him. He told Svetlana that it was he and others like him actually ruled the country and all these officials were just lackeys. Svetlana told me that Leo Orlov often invited her to attend the performances of the artists who demonstrated telepathic and other paranormal abilities to the public and insisted that she impede them from doing what they did. And many were in difficult straits during the performance.

Leo Orlov was incredibly happy about all that, but Svetlana felt quite the contrary thing. Certainly she was pleased and interested in checking her force and abilities, but she felt sorry for the performers who puffed and blushed on stage, not understanding why they were unable to do what, earlier, they had done easily, and she quitted doing that. Leo Orlov introduced her to many people and most likely had big prospects for her, but our meeting ruined all his insidious plans. When he understood that Svetlana was lost to his aims forever, he began to play minor dirty tricks on her. He destroyed her foreign passport which was kept in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the USSR and when Svetlana came there to take it, they said it had been cancelled. Svetlana was very worried that he would do some harm to me or her, because she refused to introduce me to him, although he was very interested and asked her several times to do that. I did not have the least desire to meet this person and she backed me up in that decision…

So, full of joy I pushed the button "Video call", but instead of Svetlana I heard Frederic’s disturbed voice. She was so agitated that she could not switch on the video mode and at once forgot many English words. With bated breath I asked her whether she found Svetlana and she answered affirmatively. She said that Svetlana was lying with her face downward in the office near her computer. Frederic was in shock. I turned off Skype and called to her myself. This time I saw Frederic’s face. She was scared and confused. I asked her once again where Svetlana was and she answered me again that she had found Svetlana lying on the carpet in the office face down and turned the Skype camera at her. Being in the grip of deep emotion, Frederic did not turn on the overhead light and everything around was illuminated very poorly by just one reading-lamp. In its dim light I saw Svetlana lying on the carpet, face downward. My eyes refused to believe that what I was seeing was real, but the computer camera is not an illusionist and is unable to create illusions.

I asked Frederic to immediately turn Svetlana upwards and to check whether her hand was warm. Svetlana’s left arm was relaxed and still warm. Her right hand was clenched into a fist. I asked Frederic to check whether Svetlana had pulse and breath. I still hoped that she was unconscious which happened many times before. When she was beaten so that she was unconscious for hours, the pulse was hardly felt and the breathing was very weak. For several minutes Frederic could not understand what I wanted from her. Finally she understood and answered negatively. The last hope that I was mistaken and Svetlana was alive disappeared.

Frederic turned the camera more and I saw Svetlana, her face and how she was lying, shrinking from pain like a little girl, with a clenched fist. She continued to fight even at the last moments of her life. I understood that Svetlana was really dead and that her death came when I heard in my head "Svetlana is dead".

I began to work with her immediately, realizing that her heart was blown from within. I tried to grow new tissues, but the blood did not flow in her vessels anymore.

When the ultrasonic weapon exploded her heart, blood gushed into the pericardium from the left ventricle and quickly filled it, tightly squeezing Svetlana’s heart. Therefore, even if I had grown the tissues to heal the breach of the myocardium, the pressure of the leaked blood would not have allowed the heart to be started again. The enemies took into account even such details, perfectly knowing that I had rescued her from death repeatedly, and they did not want me to do the same that time too.

In this kind of situation it was necessary immediately to pump out blood that squeezed the heart. I continued to work with Svetlana and asked Frederic to call the ambulance, hoping that they would be able to release her heart from the squeezing pressure of the blood. Frederic went to meet the ambulance at the gate and I continued to work with Svetlana. They came in fifteen minutes, checked the pulse, breathing and did nothing more, despite the fact that the body was still warm and there were no sign whatsoever of rigor mortis which there should have been by then.

They did everything correctly according to their procedures. The point is that in such situation the first thing which must be done is to release the heart from the pressure of the blood, but it should be done in the very few first minutes after the accident. So, the paramedics did nothing. I watched what was going on through the Skype camera and continued to work realizing that they would not help. I looked at Svetlana lying there, so very near – just stretch out a hand and you’ll touch. But thousands of kilometres lay between her and me. I looked and looked at Svetlana, and continued to work in spite of everything.

I still hoped that I could think out something to save her, but in order to do something radical, I needed Svetlana’s help, and now she could not help me in this situation. Drastic measures require a jeweler’s work. The least missed detail threatens to provoke catastrophic consequences on a planetary scale. In this moment there was nobody beside me who would be able to replace Svetlana even temporarily.

One of the paramedics noticed that the Skype camera was switched on and turned it from Svetlana. Before that I watched them making a cardiogram which showed a straight line some forty minutes after their arrival. It slightly surprised me that they did not do that immediately, but probably they needed the straight line just for the record. When the camera began to show the dark corner of the room, I turned off Skype and continued to work with Svetlana without seeing her.

I called telepathically our friends, both on Earth and in Space asking to do something. In fact Svetlana is dear and important not only for me and, if I had no right to return her, then they had that right! I offered myself instead of her, if it was necessary that one of us died, but I heard in reply only "you must go through it".

Why? Why must I go through it? Did Svetlana and I have not enough tests which were unthinkable for most people? We served and still do, people and truth, despite the fact that for that we got nothing but problems and attempts to physically eliminate us!!! We did not do that for the sake of glory or rewards but for people who will never know the majority of things that we did. We worked for the sake of justice, because we could not behave otherwise, could not pass by lies and slander, perfectly understanding that if we frustrate the next plan of the Dark, a squall of blows would rain down on us, both from the physical and other levels of reality. We gave up our personal happiness for the sake of making others happy, who do not even suspect what we have done and will continue to do in order that healthy and happy children will be born on Earth…

There is still a lot of work to do, but now Svetlana cannot be with me at the physical level and I will be unable to hug her, to look into her beautiful and radiant eyes. And she will never get under my arm again. Svetlana often joked: "I want to get under your armpit". Lately she asked me that very often. Like a nestling, she wanted to hide from meanness and feel protected…

One day Svetlana told me this story. Her son Robert came to Moscow for summer vacations and, on hearing her stories about different "miracles", asked her to show him something. In that moment they were in the subway and Robert asked her: "Mummy, can you stop the train?" Like a little, and a bit mischievous child, she answered: "Let’s try!" and the train stopped in a minute and everything submerged into darkness. This frightened Svetlana herself. The train remained motionless for quite a long time until the power supply was re-established. It was the first and the last time that Svetlana used her abilities without thinking about the consequences.

Her abilities manifested spontaneously several times. They did it especially often when we met in April, 1991. Then I carried out the transformation of her brain and began to work with her chronic meningitis. Not only her headache gradually disappeared but the brain, being released from the long captivity of the pus, began to straighten out like a compressed spring and surprise her with different unusual manifestations. Certainly Svetlana would describe all that with the brilliance of the eyewitness, but I try to depict everything as I can and remember, and my description will never be able to approach her perception, because we saw and see the world differently. Regrettably, she will not be able to write what and how she felt, like she did the first volume of her Revelation.

One day, when her brain was in the process of getting rid of the pus and an enormous haematoma in the area of the fontanelle, she came to my place and asked for help. This was what happened. When she strolled the Old Arbat, her favourite Moscow street, all the people which walked there unexpectedly began to speak in her head. She heard a frenzied cacophony of strangers’ thoughts which burst into her consciousness without asking permission. She tried to get away from the crowd as quickly as possible and, having called me, got to my place. I worked with her and made everything so that she could get telepathic information only when she wished it. Later we quite often watched the American film "Scanners" and the plot of the film was clear and very understandable for Svetlana, especially the scene when a protagonist unexpectedly started hearing people’s voices in his head at the train station and their quantity increased until they drove him crazy.

Svetlana experienced all this herself and was surprised at how the director of the film managed to convey almost everything with such correctness. It could be only in one case – he had a reliable source of that information. Most people who watched this film did not even suspect that the events shown in this film were not somebody's fantasy but the truth. Of course in reality a persons’ head did not blow up like a cabbage because of a scanner’s action. The action of a scanner-killer make the vessels of the brain blow up which results in a stroke and rapid death, although the person’s cranium remains whole and unharmed. It’s just the director of the film found a very expressive method to show how a person dies, when the vessels of the brain explode, without changing the essence of what is going on in reality. The bursting head is more illustrative than showing how a person twitches and drops dead, because the camera could not show what happened within the human cranium and that’s all.

As long as I worked with Svetlana, her brain, which was oppressed by the consequences of the serious meningitis for a long time, got rid of the blockings which had restrained her natural abilities and prevented them from manifesting in full measure. It was exactly the rapid release from the blockings which resulted in the avalanche of telepathic information. Her brain tried to break through the shroud of the consequence of her illness and when it got unexpected help, it rushed forward with all its huge potential. What a pity that Svetlana will be unable to tell about all that herself!

From the very first day of our acquaintance Svetlana absorbed the information I gave her like a sponge. We sat up till the deep night conversing and she kept asking about everything. At those moments she looked like a wanderer in the desert which had spent a long time without water and having finally found an oasis with pure cold water was unable to leave the spring or slake his thirst. Only in Svetlana’s case it was a spring of knowledge which I gave her. She was very surprised in the beginning that it could not be found anywhere, why the answers to her questions, which she sought from her childhood, existed and nobody speaks or writes about it, why they can be found only in private conversation with me.

She told me how many different books she had read, how many people she had met in the course of life, searching for answers to her questions and she met me only due to her casual meeting in the hotel "Kyevskaya" with the journalist from Donetsk called Valentina. And then late at night, when the subway was closed, I took my Mercedes and drove Svetlana to her hotel through the sleepy and empty Moscow. Then I lived in my aunt’s flat, my mother’s sister’s place, in Butovo and taking the Warsaw highway got Svetlana to her place at high speed, as quick as the wind. It happened almost every day till my first visit to Archangelsk which I made at the end of June - beginning of July, 1991.

Svetlana wanted very much to go there with me, but did not dare ask, and I found it awkward to offer that, because I did not want her to interpret it wrongly. It was our first parting. I knew that she had wanted to come with me when I came back and began to tell her what happened in Archangelsk. I told her how I gradually, from performance to performance, created the optimal way of co-operating with all categories of my audience – from mere gapers to the people who came to know something new and get some understanding of the surrounding world…


Regrettably, no reply followed my appeals. My mind perceived the phrase "You have to go through that", but my heart refused to accept it. When others found themselves in a similar situation, it was me who made the decision as to whether or not a person should be restored and that certainly did not happen to all, only to those whose role was key and not just for our planet, Midgard. No matter how bad I felt, I had no right to restore all my lost comrades-in-arms, because it is absolutely prohibited to return people to life at your own discretion and desire. Otherwise, anybody, who lost his nearest and dearest, would have the moral right to require that his beloved husband, wife, child, mother, father, brother, sister or friend should be returned to life, and would be absolutely right–they did not love their beloved less than I loved mine. And I would have no right to refuse them from there on! I think there is no need to explain what consequences all this might have.

Therefore, when I failed to bring Svetlana back to life at once after the murder, I appealed to my friends to make a decision, because I could not be sure of my own unbiased attitude to what had happened, which is absolutely understandable. However, in my heart of hearts I hoped that my friends would make a favourable decision which would fill me with ineffable joy, but instead I only heard the reply: "You have to go through that". My whole self rebelled against it; I could not understand the reason for such a decision then and cannot do it now. I was not the only one who needed what Svetlana did and, which is the most important, what she had not done. People needed her in order to get up from their knees and feel themselves people, not a bunch of rams, which parasites used to call them behind their back and lately say straight to their face.

All she did and was going to do, but was maliciously prevented, was necessary for Russia which she loved infinitely. She is needed to re-establish the truth about the Glorious past and Great people, which has brought so much to so many that there is not time and space enough to enumerate even its most important deeds: it has been being eliminated physically for the last thousand years, together with its Great Past, Great Culture, Great language and its Great Soul which others cannot understand yet! It does not mean that I am writing these lines being completely confused or creating an illusion of something that never existed in the past and does not exist in the present, as I am sure some would say who, due to some "strange" coincidence, all belong to the social parasites’ side.

I perfectly realize that there are enough traitors, scoundrels and scumbags among the Russians. However, they are a minority. Their number would be even less if young and immature souls had not been corrupted by the parasitic world-view for the last thousand years. In her first and last book Svetlana has shown a lot of truth which the parasites carefully concealed in order to preserve their power which they usurped illegally using lies, treason, false evidence etc. Thanks to her gift which many tried to ruin (but failed) Svetlana showed Radomir and Magdalena’s real life, love and allegiance to duty to people! What "speaking" names they have!

They bear so much information for Russians; one needs just to reflect a little and try to penetrate into the sense of the Russian words. It’s not easy, of course, because Russians are taught their culture and language by anyone who feels like it–Germans, Jews, Georgians–who willingly change them as they please, and we, the native people of our country and our land which our ancestors generously impregnated with their blood, humbly accept that. We are even reproached with calling ourselves Russians or Ruses! Our native language is so distorted by strange "rules" that we have ceased to understand the sense of it. Jesus Christ from Nazareth– this is the name under which all know Radomir, having no clue that neither "name" nor place have anything to do with him.

Christ means "Messiah" in new-Greek. It is not even a name! And he is not from Nazareth, but was born at dawn (na zare – in Russian). A bearer of any other language will hear nothing in the word "Na-zare-th"; only a Rus would clearly understand the meaning of these two words merged together. However, millions of Ruses have not reflected upon or paid attention to it, but Svetlana did! She paid attention! It was she who discovered his true name–Radomir–the Joy of the World! It is a Russian, Slavonic name, therefore it was diligently "forgotten". Maria Magdalena was prepared another fate: although her name remained undistorted, she was converted into a prostitute, something she never was! She was Radomir’s faithful wife and fellow-fighter.

They left her name, more precisely her nickname, most likely because they either did not understand what it meant or considered that people would never discover what was behind it. It is true; the word "Magdalena" says nothing to people of other nationalities. Who knows what names, surnames and nicknames people may have! This word can come to life only for a Rus and only when he or she begins to think over the sense and meaning of native words. The majority of Ruses did not perceive the word "Magdalena" as native, being intoxicated by a pseudo-religion which was imposed on us a thousand years ago. But they should! If they would shed an alien delusion from their minds, at least sometimes, then the strange word "Magdalena" will turn into words which even a child can understand, "Magus Valley" (mag doleny–in Russian).

In other words, Maria Magdalena was born in the Valley of the Magicians which still exists in the south of France and which Svetlana visited during the last two summers. She climbed the rocks where the ruins of the fortress belonging to the Cathars (or Albigensians) were and descended to the karst caves–the last shelters of the last followers of Radomir’s real teaching, which Maria Magdalena, his beloved wife and comrade-in-arms, preserved and brought to people. Svetlana walked in the dark in these caves, illuminating her dangerous journey by the light of a pocket flashlight and at risk of falling into kilometre-deep cracks which crossed the narrow path every now and then.

She visited Maria Magdalena and their little daughter’s burial place. They were killed by a merciless assassin who did not hesitate in killing a defenseless little girl after he stabbed her mother before her very eyes. Svetlana described all this in her awesome book, but so much more she has been prevented from telling! Nevertheless, she could bring this truth to people and a lot of other things…

On Saturday 13, I informed several of our mutual friends about the tragedy. On Sunday some of them called me back and said that she was, in fact, all right and alive and I could calm down. Of course, I understood that they said it with the best of intentions, wishing to help, but at the same time I was bitterly vexed, because they were so sure of their rightness, whilst being very far from it.

I had done everything I could to save Svetlana, but for the reasons I mentioned earlier I was unable to start her heart again because the blood which filled the pericardium squeezed it. I needed only a minor thing–that being that someone would release the pressure around her heart, but nobody did. The impossibility of carrying out the simplest procedure–mechanical pumping out of the blood–resulted in the irremediable–I was unable to bring Svetlana back!

The exactness and objectivity with which Svetlana could obtain information distinguished her from almost all clairvoyants and other people with paranormal abilities, who in most cases see and hear what they want to see and hear. I wished so much that those who called me and said that Svetlana was alive were right! But when I already could not see her, I knew that her body was lifeless and it was so painful, but it was the truth, not a sweet and soothing lie.

Is it possible that the reason why our friends refused to restore Svetlana was to make me go through the hardest test of all to see whether I would renounce the cause of my life, to which Svetlana devoted her life too–the fight with parasites of all stripes both on Midgard and far beyond its limits?

If the Dark had offered to bring Svetlana back in exchange for my refusal to continue that to which we devoted our lives, I would have most decidedly rejected it, despite the fact that I wanted to see her alive more than anything else in this world, to hear her beautiful voice, to admire her fathomless eyes and incredible smile which switched on the light in my heart and filled it with soothing warmth, as if the Sun peeped out of a cloud. I would have rejected it, even knowing that my heart would bleed incessantly! Even in order to see her beside me again, I would have never been able and will never be able to betray that to which I dedicated my life and Svetlana gave hers; more precisely it was maliciously taken from her. These are not just beautiful words. It is my lifelong position and I don’t care what objections someone may produce on this occasion…

I could not sleep in the night from Saturday to Sunday. My soul ached unbearably. I sat at my computer and began to write a poem dedicated to Svetlana’s memory. When I wrote down the last line, the insufferable pain remained. There was no question of falling asleep and I began to write the Epilogue to Svetlana’s book. I wanted to tell people more about Svetlana–what she was (and is) like. In the morning I did fall into a short slumber only to emerge from it and plunge into my pain again…

On Sunday I asked some of my friends to help me with a French visa as quickly as possible. They responded immediately, despite it being a weekend.

I must admit that the enemies chose a perfect time for their last attack. Svetlana was alone in the Chateau from Wednesday till her murder on Saturday. On November 11 to 14 there were some holidays in France and our housekeeper, Frederic, visited her family and Svetlana remained alone, just with our dogs, Ramzes and Cori. So, the scoundrels chose precisely the time when nobody would be beside her.

Some time before, at the end of September, her "best friend" Emma betrayed Svetlana, depriving her of the possibility of free movement and connection with the outside world, because Emma worked as a secretary-interpreter. Svetlana told me that they parted with each other on a Saturday on good terms–I even listened to Emma’s message on the answering machine where she wished her a pleasant weekend in an absolutely normal voice and confirmed that she would be in the Chateau as agreed. She came on Monday but was already on edge and when Svetlana asked a simple question as to why she did not switch her mobile on, as she had asked her to do, just in case of urgent necessity, Emma answered very rudely, said a lot of unpleasant things, turned her back and left. Svetlana just had time to ask her to think about her behaviour and call her.

Svetlana never got a call from her "best friend", instead she received an official letter accusing her of creating stressful job conditions as a result of which Emma had become depressed and notifying her that she was to be called into court on November 19! Everything was presented in the worst light possible for Svetlana. Emma wanted to accuse her of causing depression to a worker. However, when I listened to Emma’s message on Svetlana’s answering machine, there were no depressive notes in her voice and intonation, on the contrary, it sounded quite merry and satisfied. What could have happened during that Sunday, considering the fact that Svetlana had not communicated with her that day?

And if Svetlana did not communicate with her "best friend", then who did? What was said and quite possibly offered, so that on Monday morning Emma came to the Chateau being absolutely out of her temper and behaved in such outrageous manner. It was a hard blow for Svetlana. She did not expect treason. Prior to that, she told me that two years ago one of our gardeners began playing dirty, accusing Svetlana of creating stressful job conditions, as a result of which he said he had sunk into depression. He wanted Svetlana to pay him a life allowance the size of his present salary and if he died, she should pay it to his wife and children. It was completely absurd! I sincerely think that there are strange, to put it mildly, laws in France. He even got a medical certificate upon which to ground his claims.

It was only when our friend Gerard Chartier insisted, Svetlana hired a lawyer and the latter invited Terry to check his diagnosis with an expert, who quickly determined that the man was a total malingerer. But even then Svetlana did not sue this man for slander and attempted fraud. She felt pity for his children because she would, without any doubt, win the case and then, instead of getting a well-to-do life, Terry would lose everything and his family would end up in the street. Svetlana could not bring herself to do similar things, but Terry could. He could calmly deceive and invent such a slander. The question is, whether he thought it out by himself or somebody prompted him, and possibly paid some money.

Later there was another similar case, but with more grave consequences for Svetlana, which for some reason began right after Terry’s dishonest claims brought no result. The name of the new scoundrel was George. He belonged to an old Polish aristocratic family, but, in fact, any street cleaner would be more of an aristocrat than George.

By the way, Emma showed a lot of indignation at these people’s behaviour. She said to Svetlana how low it was and how could people do such things after all the good that Svetlana had done for them.

And when George failed in his machinations, an "indignant" Emma came to the scene with the same intention! I shall not describe George’s shady deal. There was everything there–from repeated forgery of Svetlana’s signature to financial machinations.

Emma who Svetlana considered the closest friend inflicted the most treacherous blow. It happened at the beginning of October of this year (2010) when the matter with George’s fraud was finally over. At once the question arises: was it by chance that each new act of meanness began immediately after the previous one had failed? The answer is obvious: someone stood behind these people.

Certainly, the puppeteers used people’s weaknesses–avidity, cowardice and falseness and did that with incredible diligence from year to year, continuously creating problems for us which we had to solve willy-nilly. The badgering at all levels did not begin yesterday or a year ago. It began as early as in the Soviet Union in 1989, at first it was me they acted against, and then against us. It became especially intense when I succeeded in coming back to my Motherland, to Russia, despite all the impediments they had organized to obstruct it. Before that they prevented us from meeting for three years! Svetlana lived in France and I continued to live in San Francisco.

Before that happened Svetlana usually got permission to enter the USA from the immigration service, because she had a right to remain on the territory of this country while I had the right to work there. In 2003 she visited the USA for the last time, because when she went to renew her permit to enter the country, to replace the expired one, she was denied it under the pretext that my status had already been cancelled, which was not true. I shall write about it in my autobiographical chronicle when I come to that and they will not prevent me from finishing it like they did with Svetlana.

Svetlana did not wish to live with the uncertainty and went to France without having a document which permitted her to come back to the USA. She was enormously upset about all this and was afraid that they would never let us meet again. On her arrival in France, Svetlana went to the American embassy in Paris to get a visa. In the beginning everything was all right and she even paid for a multi-visa for three years. Regrettably, her joy did not last for long. When she came to the window to fetch it, she was told that they could not give her a visa, because her status depended on my work status and therefore she was not entitled to one. At once we remembered the Soviet times: people came across serious bureaucratic obstacles there when they decided to move to another place. In order to get registered in another place of dwelling a person had to present the authorities with a certificate from the place of his work, but in order to get fixed up in a job, he should present a certificate from the place of dwelling! Similar bureaucratic games were played there: American immigration authorities denied Svetlana new permission to enter the country, because my status was cancelled (about which they informed her in writing) and the American embassy in Paris refused to issue a visa, because whatever status I had she had too.

Three long years of phone talks began. Of course, before that we also often communicated by phone, when she attended to her designer business, first in Beverly Hills in California, then in Paris and in our Chateau , but, nevertheless, we saw each other very often, especially when Svetlana began her designer activity in Los Angeles.

From the autumn of 2003 we had only phone communication. Svetlana was afraid that we could never meet again. We both perfectly understood that they tried to separate us but despite living apart, we became closer to each other with every passing day and continued to work together against social parasites. We met after three long years, when I got a new passport at last and was coming back to Russia. Thanks to the help of our friends, Svetlana got the Russian visa quickly and I booked a ticket on the San Francisco-Moscow flight with the change in Paris for me and for Svetlana the Paris-Moscow one, so that she had her seat next to mine. When I arrived in Paris and headed from the gate where the airplane from San Francisco came in, to the Moscow departure gate, I saw an anxious Svetlana. On seeing me from far away, she stopped for an instant and then stretched out her hands like a little girl and ran toward me…

On Monday morning, November 15, it turned out that to get a visa urgently I needed a death certificate. I called Frederic and asked her to get it. She informed me that according to French law, a death certificate could be issued only after Svetlana’s autopsy, which was scheduled for Tuesday, November 16. I informed my friends who were helping me with the visa about that and they said that I should at least send a telegram. I called Frederic again and she went to a post-office. She was told there that they could not even send a notarized telegram about a death without a death certificate. In short, the telegram was sent only in the latter half of Monday: Frederic sent it on her own behalf saying that Svetlana was dead. Nevertheless, the French embassy agreed to issue a visa for me and my friend Alexander Fadeev who volunteered to go to support me in such a hard time and I am grateful to him for that. The problem with visas was solved, although we could only get them on Tuesday, November 16. Alexander went to the embassy and finally fetched our six month multi-visas.

When the matter with visas became more or less settled, it was still Monday and Alexander wanted me to choose the time and day he should book the tickets. He was constantly on the phone with his acquaintances from a travel agency and I had to make a decision. There was not much sense in arriving in Paris late at night on Tuesday and I decided to depart in the early morning on Wednesday, November 17. We had to leave home at 3.30 a.m., so I also did not sleep on Tuesday too, although I did try. We came to the airport, passed registration and customs very quickly and began waiting to board. The airplane took off in time, but Alexander and I failed to relax during the flight, even for a minute. The thing is that we both are almost two metres in height plus my not being "Thumbelina" size so sitting in very narrow passenger seats in economy was a genuine torture for us. We almost could not move in these seats and had nowhere to place our feet for four hours, but it was of little importance, because I was glad, if one could say that under these circumstances, that I could go to France and would see my Svetlana…

Each time when I remember our meeting in Charles de Gaulle Airport after our living apart three long years, I see shining Svetlana with outstretched arms running toward me. Such moments are imprinted into your memory forever and come back to life every time you think about them. By the will of fate and enemies this meeting became our last meeting and our last joy, because there was a last parting, when Svetlana was so close to me for the last time. Like any of our partings, it was a sad one, when my heart was encircled by deep sorrow, because we could not be absolutely certain that there would be a new meeting, taking into account the life we led. But I would have never even supposed that this would be the last time I could see Svetlana in the flesh with my own eyes; the last time I would hug her and then never again see her alive. I always thought that most likely it would be me who would die at the enemies’ hands, because almost always the earthly enemies attacked me first, and only then Svetlana. And enemies from "there" almost always attacked us simultaneously, and I had to find a key to their next dirty trick, give it a work-out on me and then free Svetlana. It happened often enough, especially for the last four years, after I returned to Russia. They severely attacked before that, and those attacks were quite serious, but only after my return to Russia did the social parasites go absolutely wild. I shall describe in the The Mirror of My Soul to what tricks the USA authorities resorted to prevent me from leaving the country.

The parasites beat us so severely that it was out of the question to carry out any joint work without solving the next problem and repairing the damages primarily because I did not want Svetlana to be working at full stretch and wearying, which always happens, if one works whilst having serious injuries. They did not attack us just at other levels of reality; they used any possibility to organize murderous assaults at the purely earthly level too. Last year, when Svetlana went to Occitania for the first time to carry out her research related to Maria Magdalene and the Cathars, our friends warned me that the parasites had staged the next hunt for her and me. I strengthened Svetlana’s protective structures and everything turned out all right then, although it was not difficult to organize an accident in caves full of deep cracks and precipices. Almost each time when Svetlana abandoned the Chateau, I reinforced her protection to prevent, for example, a truck "accidentally" coming into an opposing lane, etc. I would like to say that I was warned about the forthcoming attempts which special services of different countries had prepared for us from comrades-in-arms who worked precisely there. So, the provocateurs will have no chance to yell that I invent some phantom attempts and then "heroically" overcome them!

To tell the truth I found the logic of those "true seekers" very strange. When I described the numerous attempts at our physical elimination, first mine and then Svetlana’s, they furiously yelled that I "jacked-up my price", and thus self-advertise and create a heroic image, etc. When in the end the enemies succeeded in reaching Svetlana with their filthy claws, they began hysterically to yell that "he could not even protect his wife!" Well, those parasites can wriggle out of any situation! They jabber about that despite the fact that I repeatedly wrote and said that in order to create any protective structure I must know against what weapon I should do that.

I am not good at all at inventing means of destruction. My brain does not work in this direction, but if I come across something like that, I always found the effective counter-action. Like I succeeded in creating an anti-weapon against the infrasonic one which was considered to be absolutely invincible, against which no defence existed, because it penetrated everywhere: air, earth, water and thick lead plates. Space was the only place where one could hide from it, though with one condition–all means of communication should be disconnected. Now protection against this weapon exists and has already saved the lives of several people, but Svetlana paid with her life before it became possible. She continues to rescue lives even after her death!

By the way, I would like to say a few words about protection. I created it for many members of our Movement on simple carriers like rings, pendants or key-trinkets. The only condition for the protection to produce an effect is that the person should have the above-mentioned objects in the moment of danger. Not once have I ever been informed that on having serious accidents, their owners and people next to them were not safe and sound even when the cars had a head-on collision! Regrettably, my protection did not extend to people in other cars which participated in these accidents and people died. One man informed me that he had this kind of an accident–a head-on collision–and it was not him who drove the car and had my protection but his son and there was a dog in the car too. So, none of the three had any injuries whatsoever, not a scratch! There are a great number of other cases when my protection was this effective, although there was not this kind of visual confirmation. Several times I had to create even a new protective device, because the stones in the carriers were split, when they took the blow. It is of interest that the split was ideally straight and the stone itself was not damaged, only split into two halves…

Many of you had already become acquainted with Svetlana while reading the chapters of her book, but she did not have time to write so many things about her life. She did not speak much about herself. She always was very modest, I would say too modest. She never considered that which she did was something special and important, but in reality it was. Sometimes we talked about one or another subject and, being carried away, she started telling very interesting facts from her life. It is a pity that she did it so seldom. To tell the truth I learned about many events of her life when I read the chapters of her book–she found it unnecessary to tell me about all of it. Of course, our being constantly busy with our work, when little spare time remained, was one of the reasons for it. And Svetlana found no sense in talking about her childhood experiences when matters of a planetary scale and even more were at stake. She genuinely believed her own affairs were not worthy of attention. Nevertheless, we did have those rare precious spare moments when she shared some of her recollections with me.

One day we discussed the subject of languages: where this or that language originated and when, etc., and Svetlana told me about one case from her childhood. As many probably know already, she was born in Lithuania in a small town called Alitus. When the time came, she went to school and as all schoolchildren in Lithuania, she studied Lithuanian. The teacher of Lithuanian began the lesson telling the children what a great and mighty language Lithuanian was, about its antiquity, etc. When he finished Svetlana raised her hand and asked him a question which simply stumped him. She asked that if Lithuanian was so ancient and great, then why there was not a single book or document written in it older than the 15th century (if am not mistaken)? The teacher had no answer to her question and he strongly disliked her for that, nevertheless, Svetlana always had "excellent" in his subject.

Svetlana’s question will not seem strange for a little school girl, if we take into account that she read a lot of different books whilst being a child of preschool age and certainly, was much more evolved and educated than her class-mates. However, there were some aspects which Svetlana’s teacher did not know or was unwilling to touch. First, the Lithuanians belong to the kin of Sviato Ruses, in other words they are the Ruses and Slavs. Second, the Lithuanians are the bits and pieces of the once powerful tribe of the Western Ruses–the Veleti (Lutici), the majority of which was destroyed by the Germans during the 7th to 9th centuries A.D. I shall remind that using deception and treachery, German tribes managed to wipe two powerful tribal unions of the Western Ruses–the Venedi and the Veleti off the face of the earth and occupied their lands.

It is of interest that even modern history preserves a version that denotes the name of Lithuania as originating from the word lutiy (fierce), but it is not mentioned that once there was a powerful tribal union of Western ruses–the Lutici! Someone conceals very diligently the traces of this sad genocidal tragedy of the Western Ruses. Besides, that version reveals that Lithuanian princes united many lands of the Kievan Rus after a supposed Tatar-Mongol invasion (1237-1242)* and that the "savage" Lithuanians adopted the culture and language of Kievan Rus. In other words, the Lithuanians spoke Russian, or at least its dialect, in the times of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania**. But that is not all!

The Lithuanians, more precisely the Lutici, preserved Vedic traditions longer than anybody else and were converted to Christianity only in the 13th to 14th centuries and began to practice Catholicism. The languages began to differ from each other precisely thereafter. The same thing happened to Swedes and not only to them, but to all tribes which were Germanized. If we take into account all the abovementioned, we can understand why the teacher of Lithuanian was unable to answer the seemingly simple question of his inquisitive pupil…

In France Alexander and I went through the customs without any problem, like all others though. We did not book a car for rent beforehand, because there was no way to do that the day before the flight. Therefore, on arriving in Paris, we went to the airport car rental service, hoping that we could rent a vehicle right on the spot. On spending some time in line, we were informed that we could not get a car there without an advance order. It disappointed us a little, but I asked the manager of the company whether we could rent a car without a pre order. He advised us to go to the "Hertz" company. There we could not only get a car without any pre-order but also choose a quite spacious vehicle.

I picked out a Mercedes-Benz which turned out to be silver and almost new. On dealing with all the formalities, we were ready to move, but came across a problem. The GPS was in French and we failed to load new data into it. Alexander took the wheel and we drove, hoping that we would see road signs which would indicate the direction we needed but that did not happen. On circling around for about 30 or 40 minutes in search of the necessary exit in the direction of the city of Tours, we decided to stop and try another approach, since we had the GPS in Russian. It required just several minutes to connect to the French navigational system, Alexander entered the address of our Chateau and finally we got what we wanted–the device began to work! Everything went all right afterwards. Many kilometres lay ahead of us. On making myself comfortable in the seat, I became "disconnected" from time to time, because of the monotony of the road and lack of normal sleep for a long time. In approximately an hour we had a situation. Alexander "switched off" for several seconds. He had not slept for several nights too.

So, we were both "out" for several seconds. When Alexander fell asleep, my protection system worked. I woke up immediately and said "wake up" to Alexander. It happened at the last moment, when the car rushed toward the concrete road safety barrier at a speed of 130 km/h. Alexander woke up at once; his reaction was instant–the car just slightly touched the barrier with its wheels. After a while Alexander stopped the car and examined it. To our surprise everything was all right. There was not even a scratch, not to mention anything serious. If it were not for my protective system, on hitting the concrete barrier, the car, probably, at such a speed would have turned over on the road in intensive traffic with all the effluent consequences.

But my protection and Alexander snapped into action very well. So, we deprived the parasites of the pleasure of burying Svetlana and me at one and the same time. Thereon our travelling adventures were over. There are a lot of toll roads in France; the payment is relatively small, but still... Thanks to our GPS, we got right to the gate of the Chateau. I called Frederic and she came in ten minutes and told us that the Chateau had been sealed up by the Gendarmerie and that we could not even enter the kitchen which was not sealed before. It was getting pretty dark and I declined Frederic’s offer to make a tour of my property. She gave me the address of the hotel where she had reserved rooms for us, Alexander entered it into the GPS and we went there. It was located in the small town of Ñhinon, eleven kilometres from our Chateau.

We quickly found the place where the hotel was, but did not immediately find the hotel itself, although we passed by it a couple of times. On wandering a little, we finally found it and occupied our rooms. After all the scrapes and adventures of the last days Alexander and I thought only of one thing–to stretch out our legs as soon as possible. We found a restaurant which was still open, had a quick bite and left to have a little rest. Frederic informed me that tomorrow, November 18, I would have an appointment with a Detective Inspector at 10 a.m. Alexander and I already knew where the Gendarmerie was.

In the morning we found out that yesterday’s journey demanded payment; our legs suffered from muscle spasms, which was not highly surprising–sitting without any opportunity to stir for four hours and then driving for several hours adversely affected us. It appeared that nobody took into account people with a height of two-metres or higher, and the air transporters show no interest whatsoever in where people of such height will put their feet after squeezing themselves into the narrow seats of a plane. Well, this was just a "lyrical" digression…

On Thursday, November 18, we came to the Gendarmerie at 10 a.m. I gave my name and said that I had an appointment for this time. Certainly, I spoke English. The French do not like the English much and try to avoid speaking their language, except for cases when it is absolutely necessary, even if they speak it quite fluently. By 10 o’clock an interpreter from Russian into French came and the conversation-interrogation began. The Inspector immediately stated that the case was under the direct control of the Public prosecutor of the French Republic and asked Alexander to wait for me outside. Alexander asked me to give him a ring when the interrogation was over and returned to the hotel.

The first question I was asked was how did I know that my wife was dead? He was surprised at the fact that I had called our housekeeper and asked her to check whether everything was all right with Svetlana. When Frederic found Svetlana, her body was still warm. It was also warm when the gendarmes arrived at the Chateau, which happened not earlier than two hours after her death, the Inspector said. The fact that I tried to return Svetlana to life, regrettably, with no success for the reasons I mentioned earlier, resulted in the life in the cells of her body continuing to glimmer long enough, but the blood constricted Svetlana’s heart and prevented me from starting it up. I did not tell him everything. I just said that I felt that something was wrong and called Frederic.

The conversation-interrogation lasted seven and a half hours! Certainly, the circumstance that we communicated through the interpreter made it that long; nevertheless, seven and a half hours remain seven and a half hours. Many questions were asked about the time, when Svetlana worked as a high-fashion designer.

Few knew that Svetlana was honoured with membership of the so-called Syndicate of High Fashion where she was the only one from any of the former Soviet Union countries! She was nominated as the best designer of the 20th century which created many enemies in the world of high fashion, first of all because she was independent, which many hated. I shall write about that in my autobiographical chronicle. All that became the reason for almost unanimous boycott of her which the owners of Houses of Haute couture organized, mainly because her creative work threatened them with enormous financial losses. The thing is that most designers of "high" fashion are unable to create anything really new, but only copy what people have already forgotten. They call that a collection "inspired" by the work of, for example, Christian Dior, who, by the way, bought the sketches from a designer called Erte, a talented Russian artist of an ancient Russian noble family, whose real name was Roman Petrovich Tyrtov (Roman de Tirtoff).

But this is a story of another day. By the way, Svetlana wanted to write a book about the world of "high fashion" where she would expound her view about it which is far from the glossy image that has been created.

I also told the Inspector that Svetlana worked on books about the Cathars and real Templars, the Great true past of our civilization, including France, and that her death put an end to all that. At the end of the interrogation-conversation he asked my opinion concerning the way Svetlana was murdered. I told him that I knew who killed Svetlana and how, only I did not have proofs. The Inspector nevertheless, asked me to express my version of the events which I did. I told him about the infrasonic weapon and principles of its action. Oddly enough, he did not consider my words a fable or the delirium of a madman, on the contrary, he listened to me very attentively and after we finished he went to report the results to the Public prosecutor.

He was absent for approximately half an hour. When he returned he said that now he would give me Svetlana’s passport and telephone and tomorrow morning, despite City hall being closed because of the weekend, he would issue Svetlana’s death certificate without which it was impossible to begin the preparations for her funeral. Tomorrow they would remove all the seals from the Chateau and I could enter it. Whereupon he said that despite all above said and the fact that they did not find any traces that belonged to strange persons the investigation of Svetlana’s death continued, which means only one thing–her death was not natural and thus he confirmed my version of the events. He handed Svetlana’s passport and telephone to me and saw me to the door. He also told me in English about an interesting fact: when I crossed the French border, access to my web-site became denied! Isn’t it interesting? First, the officer let me understand that he was familiar with the content of my web-site. Second, he can fluently read English, because I still don’t have a French version of the site. And third, somebody had blocked access to my web-site for the French.

I came back to the hotel, where Alexander expected me, and called Frederic to tell her that I could meet Gerard Chartier at 6 p.m. who had been waiting for me since 2 p.m. We came when it was already dark, I apologized to Gerard once again for such a delay, but he perfectly understood that the duration of the conversation-interrogation did not depend on me. Gerard almost does not speak English; therefore Frederic became an interpreter from English into French and vice versa. We were introduced, although we knew a great deal about each other as Svetlana often told me about him. Gerard said that I must re-draw and sign a lot of documents because Svetlana was gone…

Svetlana was gone... My whole self refused to accept it, despite the fact that I saw with my own eyes through Skype her body lying on the floor in the room of our Chateau and the paramedics reading her EKG thirty or forty minutes after their arrival which showed a long straight line. Despite all that my soul did not want to accept the fact that her physical body was dead and I would never hear her sweet-sounding voice, see her amazing smile, hear her silvery laughter and look into her divine eyes… It seemed to me to all be a bad dream and I have but to open my eyes and it will vanish at once and I shall hear a Skype or phone call and my dearest will say to me with her sweet crystal-clear voice: "Wake up, sleepy-head! How long will you sleep!" But my eyes were open and everything that was happening was not a bad dream. It was particularly hard in the morning: when I opened my eyes and still did not realize where I am and what day it is, but then the concrete block of complete awakening falls on me and I understand that it is not a bad dream but cruel reality.

Nevertheless, a hope still glimmered at the very bottom of my heart that all that was an unhappy joke. I constantly had the impression that Svetlana would unexpectedly appear and say: "Hello! Here I am!" My consciousness furiously struggled to accept the fact that someone could bring himself to murder her. But someone could indeed…

My memory brings to light a lot of events and facts about Svetlana: what kind of person she is, what a great heart and soul she has. One day Svetlana called and asked me to contact our friends in San Francisco and tell them that on such-and-such a day their daughter Veronica will drown. It is of interest that our friends were spending their vacation with their children in Hawaii exactly at this time–June 2004 or 2005. Certainly, I conveyed her warning and also put a protective shield on the girl at the insistence of her parents. Certainly, nobody said anything to her about drowning but that day Veronica stayed very much away from water, even the pool. If Svetlana had not warned about the danger, the little girl, most likely, would have drowned. However, Svetlana rescued people not only with her gift of foresight, thanks to which Veronica and many other people remained alive: very often her gift helped to prevent catastrophes and cataclysms of both planetary scale and much greater during our work on different problems and tasks, but not only them…

In summer, 2005 a small event, on the Universal scale, happened which demonstrated Svetlana’s character and selflessness. It had been a long time since Svetlana had called Zita, our St. Bernard dog, and was very worried for her pet. She went to look for her and after a while she found her in our large summer pool where she had fallen and could not get out. The water level in the pool was 70 cm lower than the concrete edge and Zita had no chance of getting out on her own. Zita came to the end of her endurance and she began to drown. Without thinking twice Svetlana jumped into the pool to save her favourite pet.

Zita began to swallow water and, on seeing that, Svetlana undertook a desperate attempt to push her out of the pool. Svetlana could not reach the bottom with her feet at the point where the dog was and Zita was an adult female St. Bernard and weighed quite a lot. Several attempts to push Zita out failed. Every now and then Svetlana’s head disappeared under water, but she did not leave Zita and went on trying to push her out of the pool. Finally she made it! I still wonder how on earth she managed to do it. Only then Svetlana, tired and exhausted, allowed herself to get out of the pool, being incredibly happy that she had found Zita in time and saved her–some ten or fifteen minutes more and Zita would have drowned!

This event clearly shows Svetlana’s nature, her selflessness. She loved life very much. She loved every single living creature: any tiny blade of grass, any small bush, tree, bird and animal. And she loved people and always treated them with open heart, which in some miraculous way she managed not to harden despite numerous treacheries, although her small and at the same time enormous heart bled every time when people she trusted wounded her with their betrayal, not only when the Dark directed their mortal blows into it. She has always believed (and still does), no matter what, in the best in people, that everybody has a living soul. She just could not act otherwise, but many (not all) to whom she opened her heart and soul deceived her, fearing for their own skin, or for the sake of profit, or because of their envy that they could not be even one percent of what she was! Svetlana never concealed her face or hid behind somebody’s back. She knew why she fought and for the sake of what she risked her life almost every day, often several times a day. She was (and is) a Light Warrior in the fullest sense of this word. She is Valkyrie and Dara in one person! (Dara is a Slavonic name meaning a present, gift – E.L.)

On Friday morning, November 19, Alexander and I left the hotel where we had to spend two nights. Frederic called and said that the gendarmes had removed the seals from the Chateau and now I could enter my own house. On checking out from the hotel, we loaded our things in the car and went there. Frederic opened the gate and for the first time since the end of 1999, when I bought the Chateau, I entered it. This was not at all the way I imagined this moment. I dreamed of arriving in France incognito to surprise Svetlana: arriving at the Chateau, asking Frederic on the quiet to open the gate, driving to the doors, gently entering, and saying loudly: "Hi, here I am!" … And now I am in the Chateau, but joyful Svetlana does not run to meet me; her sunny smile does not shine on her face; her crystal-clear voice does not sound in the hall... Here are her shoes; her clothes are hanging on the racks. Traces of her presence are everywhere I look. It seems that Svetlana will come out of a room right now, but a moment passes, then another and Svetlana does not show up. No, this was not the way I imagined my appearance in the Chateau after so many years of it being impossible to do that.

Fate presented me a sad "gift"–to enter it when the dearest creature of all is not in the world of the living. Some times the thought flashes through my head: should we maybe have left the Earth when our friends came to fetch us? Then Svetlana would be alive, and we would continue our common cause together! In fact most people want nothing except for filling their stomachs with food and getting "pleasures", as they understand them, and for the sake of that they are ready to be slaves, betray, kill, lie… But I drive that away at once. Svetlana and I remained on Midgard-Earth not on somebody's order or requirement, but of our own free will, because this planet is our home. And everything we have done was not done for the sake of glory and rewards, but because it is our debt and duty to do everything we can to release this wonderful planet from the power of parasites.

Svetlana has already given her life for that aim, and I shall continue this cause while my heart beats! I do not know how long that may be, a la guerre comme a la guerre, but as long as it continues to beat I shall not leave the chosen path, whatever the cost might be! Once Svetlana’s Granddad told little Svetlana: "nobody can take honour and human dignity from man, only he can let go of them." It really is so! The slave philosophy, being a social weapon invented by parasites grossly distorted the consciousness of the Ruses and other native people of the Light Rus. It is time we took off the stupefying shroud from people’s consciousness: any awoken person who reads Svetlana’s and my books inflicts a blow on social parasites, weakens their power and strength and instills ever stronger and stronger fear and panic in them. The parasites are perfectly aware that the earth now begins to rock under their feet and that their parasitizing, sweet for them and bloody for the rest, is coming to an end. Those still asleep are awakening and this is inevitable, despite the parasites’ loud yelling that they bring goodness and light to people. However, they do not specify that their "light" is darkness and chaos for all other people which should be either eliminated or turned into slaves! ...

In the second half of Friday I got Svetlana’s death certificate and the address of the hospital where her body was. Everything happened as in a bad dream, only there was no way I could wake up from it.

Whilst a child I had "bad dreams", only later I understood that they were real. In them a monster pursued me with but one intention–to get me for its breakfast, dinner or supper, I did not specify what kind of meal I was intended for. So, the monster went hunting and I was the prey. I still remember the acute feeling of danger and the feeling of game ensnared in a trap. And when the monster opened its mouth anticipating a banquet, a precipice opened wide under my feet and I fell into it, screaming and unexpectedly found myself in my own bed sweating all over…

I did not understand then where this precipice suddenly appeared from and why on falling in it, I appeared in my bed or, in my body, as I would say now. Everything seemed strange to me then: monsters that hunted me and the precipice which appeared as if from nowhere. Then I was glad that I did not become somebody's breakfast or dinner. Then everything ended very well, but this time the bad dream continued. I opened my eyes and nothing disappeared, everything happened in reality.

Oh, how I would wish it to be just a bad dream! Regrettably nothing changed because I wished that…

And tomorrow, Saturday, November 20, I will have no illusion regarding Svetlana’s death. I will see her body; the body of the dearest creature on Earth who I have not seen for four long years. It will be my first meeting with Svetlana in four years. It was not the kind of meeting with Svetlana I had dreamed about, but I was glad to have at least this. I was afraid that they would not give me a visa and Svetlana would be buried without me and I would not even see her for the last time. So, the next morning Alexander entered the address of the hospital in the city of Tours into the GPS which was located thirty kilometres from our Chateau and we set out on our sad journey…

Thanks to the GPS we could find the hospital very quickly, but came across a small problem. All inscriptions were in French, as they certainly should be, and we were unable to identify where the morgue was. I went to the hospital’s waiting room, showed Svetlana’s death certificate to a receptionist and when she began to explain me something in French, I said that I spoke English, but she did not.

A nurse who spoke English more or less fluently appeared in fifteen or twenty minutes and explained the way to the morgue. We went down there, rang the bell, I showed the death certificate again and with my gestures explained that I would like to see my wife’s body. It took several minutes for them to understand what I wanted. After several minutes more I was invited to a special room where they brought Svetlana’s body. It was incredibly painful to see the body of my dearest person lying on a morgue carriage.

It had already been a week since Svetlana was murdered. Her body was cold; the rough traces of the stitches of the autopsy were clearly visible. I felt how the indignation rose in my soul–did they really have to shred her body? I sat down next to it and began to stroke her forehead and hair; she loved so much when I did that. I stroked her hair and spoke to her. I knew that her spirit was near me and she heard my every word. I spoke and kept speaking to her and continued to stroke her hair… This was the way we met for the first time after four long years of living apart…

Her skin was of quite normal colour. It glittered and gradually became warm under my hand. It seemed that Svetlana just slept; if it were not for the total immobility so unusual for a living thing, one might think that she was submerged in a lethargic sleep. However the stitches left no doubt about the reality, despite her healthy skin colour. Even death could not fully kill the life in her. I would gladly die instead of her. I have seen the face of death thousands of times, but how unbearably hard it was to see the lifeless body of the person who was more precious to me than anything else in my life, more precious than my own.

I am not afraid of death. The most frightful thing for me is to see the death of my nearest and dearest. At once I begin to think that I spent too little time with her, did not say as many warm words which could give her additional strength as I should have, that I should have insisted more strongly on carrying out new transformations. When I saw Svetlana’s infinitely tired eyes, I felt pity and agreed to wait when she asked me to postpone the work for tomorrow or the weekend when I had a lesser work-load. When I remember all that, I start to blame myself that I did not insist and convince her to carry out the transformation despite her tiredness, then, probably, Svetlana would be alive even after such a blow. So it had happened that the realization of my fundamentally new solution had been postponed for the third week. The anxiety grew in me, and on Friday, November, 12, after the new powerful attacks had begun, I said to Svetlana that tomorrow, no matter what, I would perform the new transformation of her brain which would bring us to an absolutely new level with which the Dark could do nothing…But the transformation was never performed and now I see Svetlana’s lifeless body and my soul is torn into billions of pieces of pain…

One person e-mailed me that he was a dark in the past and that he often had to kill people that were dear to him and that the Dark were strong also because they do not have emotions, and that in order to win over them, one has to learn from them to be indifferent to everything. Maybe the Dark indeed are exactly that way, but I am not going learn it from them. Nobody was or is able to feed on my pain, because a long time ago I made all my emotions mortally dangerous for the Dark. If they intend to taste my emotions, a very unpleasant surprise is waiting for them–on getting into a Dark; they would begin to transform him.

In addition to that, I long ago created a "float" system for Svetlana and me, when a change of emotional level automatically changes everything else, so that even very strong emotions do not violate our harmony and balance. Besides, almost nobody ever can see a storm of my emotions. First, to cause such a storm is very difficult, and second, if this happens, it hardly manifests in outward appearance. I hold everything within myself. One of the reasons for that is if I splash out my emotions, it can lead to quite deplorable results, about which I shall not write here and now. However, the ability to control emotions does not mean their absence! I was never an insensitive blockhead, who did not give a damn, and I never will be–a living soul can not be indifferent to the suffering and pain of others. However, the reaction of a living person must not be in lamentations and consolation, but in an active action! Any action is impossible without a keen and passionate heart, only then can you consider yourself Man!

Certainly, it is hard to smile or laugh when your soul suffers. You have to acquire this skill, no matter what, in order that parasites will not be able to rejoice at your grief, and you will be able to continue fighting with them even being in this state, increasing your persistence a thousand times. That is really what you should be able to do in order that enemies can never break your will or force you renounce the cause of all your life.

Two hours flashed like one minute, absolutely unnoticed, and although nobody disturbed me all this time, I understood that I could not sit next to Svetlana forever…

However sad it was, I had to leave. I kissed her beautiful eyes and lips and bade farewell ‘til the next meeting. When I left the room with Svetlana’s body in it, I asked a hospital attendant about their working hours, more precisely, using a great deal of gestures, I showed that I would like him to write down the working hours of the morgue. They worked seven days a week and visitors were allowed from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m., which was the only good news, if I may say that. The point is that on Friday, November 19, I spoke to a funeral parlour employee about the time of Svetlana’s body cremation and the date was set at November 24, 2010, at 2 p.m. He also said that on November 24 at 10 a.m. he and his assistant would arrive at the morgue and transfer the body into the coffin; whereupon it would be closed and a police commissioner would seal it up, and the sealed coffin would be cremated.

Thus I had four days for visiting Svetlana. Four days. Fate favoured me with four meetings for four years of our living apart– one day for each year! What irony! The countdown began; the moment when Svetlana’s body will be cremated inexorably became closer with every passing day. Alexander and I came to visit Svetlana every day (I don’t want to write "to the morgue") and I spent more than two hours with her. Each time I was surprised at the fact that the colour in her face and the state of her skin were quite normal, there were no signs of death whatsoever. And each time the thought flashed through my mind: maybe I should not cremate or bury her body and try to do something to return Svetlana to life, but each time the traces of the autopsy extinguished my last hope of returning life to this body.

The work of the pathologist did not leave a single organ unharmed by the scalpel. They even dissected her skull and withdrew her brain. I have no doubt whatsoever that Svetlana’s autopsy was not an ordinary one, taking into account the close attention which the authorities paid to the case. They perfectly knew (although, not all of them) who Svetlana was and enjoying their complete immunity and total lack of control, they undoubtedly took samples of her tissues for studying, and most likely her whole brain. The parasites are dying to know how the human brain can do unbelievable things, from their point of view. Their hidebound minds cannot understand that all "magic" abilities are formed on levels inaccessible to the scalpel of a pathologist; nevertheless they continue to look for a black cat in a black room, when in fact the cat has never been there…

One day I paid attention to the fact that ichors continued to ooze from the stitches despite the fact that it was the tenth day after Svetlana’s death. Nadezhda Jakovlevna Anshukova, who has worked all her life as a doctor, explained to me that it was an indication of a violent death, because, if a person dies of natural causes, his body produces a lot of adrenalin and the blood quickly coagulates, but if the death was violent and very rapid, then the adrenal glands do not have time to produce adrenalin with all following consequences. So, that fact served as another confirmation that Svetlana was murdered.

Svetlana’s skin became healthier, acquiring more colour and elasticity with every day. Certainly, it also happened because every day I spent two hours with Svetlana’s body and stroked her forehead and hair. My life-force filled her, and the cells of her body gradually came back to life, but it was out of question that Svetlana herself could come back to life after the autopsy. If I had been beside her, when all that happened, I would have been able to return her to life. It is highly likely that, if I had been beside her, nothing would have happened to her at all or we would have died together. Svetlana always told me that she would never remain alone, without me, not for the world, and her dream was that when the time came, we would be gone together. It happened that only the first part of her wish came true and it was me who remained alone, and we will be unable to leave this world together…

Every day the moment drew nearer when Svetlana’s body would disappear in the fire forever, burning the vessel which contained her beautiful and brave spirit. Every bit of my soul stood up against it. Her body was the only thing that was left for me from her in this world. Although I could speak to her spirit, it was not enough for me. I often remembered and still do Svetlana’s words that she wanted to see the victory of Light exactly with these eyes and exactly in this body, no matter how imperfect it was, because we came through everything exactly in this body, and exactly in these imperfect bodies we performed and continue to perform that, in which our spirits could never succeed before (and not only our spirits)…

Wednesday, November 24, when I could have the opportunity to see Svetlana for the last time, inevitably came. Alexander and I arrived at the morgue by 9 a.m., the car from the funeral parlour came later, and the last preparations for the funeral began. I brought Svetlana’s clothes and gave them to the morgue workers. In ten or fifteen minutes I was granted the last meeting with her. Svetlana lay in the coffin and this sight looked so desperately unnatural to me, but it was real. A couple of days earlier I had cut off some of Svetlana’s hair. Being not sure whether I could do that once again, I asked the funeral parlour employee to do the same thing. Before he closed the lid of the coffin forever, he cut off some of her hair and I asked him to cut off her ponytail fully, which he did, whereupon I arranged her hair so that Svetlana’s face was beautifully framed by her wonderful hair even after such a "haircut"… Svetlana’s hair…

Several years ago a French hairdresser had given her a very bad hair-do, probably being jealous of her beautiful hair. Later she had to have another hair-cut to repair the damage and her hair became too short. Svetlana asked me then whether I could grow her hair, like Richard did to his beloved Kahlan from Terry Goodkind’s The Sword of Truth series. I said "why not" and began to work with her hair. Despite continuous stress which does not favour rapid growth at all, but on the contrary often becomes the reason for its shedding, I succeeded in making it grow.

Svetlana’s death prevented me from growing her hair the way she had wanted. Nevertheless, I managed to do a lot for that. Ten days prior to her murder, she sat before the web-camera and loosened her wonderful wavy hair. It shimmered in the dim light of a reading-lamp and cascaded down her shoulders and breast. Svetlana said that her hair was already below her waist and continued to grow which surprised even her. She also said that she could finally get it the shape she wanted and then I could continue growing it. And now once again her wonderful hair was cut by a clumsy hand, this time not out of malice…

When Svetlana’s body was moved into the coffin, her hands appeared uncovered and I took her right hand which easily yielded. I kissed it and then took her fingers and crossed with mine and pressed them against my face. There was no rigor mortis in her fingers whatsoever, they were just cool and remained flexible, as any living person’s. Probably, later the church would wish to declare her relics imperishable, but nobody ever will be able to use Svetlana’s body for their own ends. She wanted her body burnt after her death according to our ancestors’ customs.

Ten minutes later a police commissioner sealed the coffin when the lid was firmly screwed down as she watched and it was transferred to the crematorium. We followed it in our car and entered the coordinates of the funeral parlour into our GPS. The ceremony was to begin in three hours and we decided to come back to the Chateau, where Frederic was waiting for us with the flowers which I asked her to order. December 1 was the day of our wedding anniversary; it was 19 years in 2010 and I asked Frederic to buy 19 lemon and green orchids. Svetlana loved orchids, especially those, with enormous wonderful flowers. Moreover, Svetlana’s birthday was on December 15 and I asked to order an enormous bouquet of yellow roses…

Few people attended the farewell ceremony–only those who already knew about her death. I did not inform our friends about the funeral and few gathered in the funeral hall at 2 p.m. I laid all the flowers on Svetlana’s coffin, as did others who came to see her off on her last journey. Everything was covered in beautiful flowers. She was a wonderful flower of Life herself and left us surrounded by beauty. The funeral parlour employee intoned the standard speech for such cases as these in French without the slightest knowledge of what an unusual person–a woman-warrior–he saw off with cold official words, but it was not important. The most important was what people who gathered there felt in their hearts, according to their understanding of who Svetlana was.

Everybody sincerely grieved over her. The ceremony lasted about twenty minutes, whereupon the coffin with Svetlana’s body slowly went down to the crematorium. We had to remove some of the flowers. I wanted all of them going into the flame together with Svetlana’s body, but the orchids were so enormous that they would hinder the functioning of the oven. Only yellow roses–the roses for her birthday–were left scattered on the coffin. When everything was ready the throat of the oven opened and the coffin with Svetlana’s body, surrounded by yellow roses, slowly went into flame. A wonderful flower of Life, which Svetlana was and is, or rather her physical body, was leaving surrounded by beautiful flowers. A minute more and the oven doors closed, cutting that, which quite recently was the body of my dearest, my wife, from the surrounding world forever…

Certainly, it was just a physical body. Everything, who and what Svetlana was, did not burn, but, nevertheless, something elusively special did burn together with this body, something unique, and exclusive. Anyone who attentively read her unfinished book will understand what I mean. Although the killers interrupted the narration on her childhood years, and she was deprived of the chance to tell us all the chronicle of her life, even as a child Svetlana manifested the features of her soul, like selflessness and purity and the character of a warrior, which few succeed in gaining during a whole lifetime. And this was only the beginning of Svetlana’s life! How many amazing things about her life we shall never know, because the enemies took this opportunity from her. However, even that information which Svetlana had time to write in her first and now last book impresses both with the surprising depth of thought and content and the amazingly beautiful and rich Russian.

After the funeral we all arrived at the Chateau and honoured the memory of Svetlana. Her favourite orchids and other flowers surrounded her photo in one of the halls. Her photo where Svetlana is full of life and joy decorated with beautiful flowers left nobody indifferent who saw this combination. Usually, the person’s photo becomes "empty" after his death. A photo is always connected to the person and when he dies and, therefore, the spirit exits the body, the connection between the photo and the spirit disappears, just as with the physical body. People, who are able to see and feel this kind of thing, can easily detect it. The same way one can tell whether a person is dead or alive and determine his or her location, just having his photo or a personal belonging. So, all Svetlana’s photos remained alive after her death. Probably it is related to the fact that I "tied" her spirit to me as she asked, or because …………………………………………………… Moreover, her presence on the photos does not decrease, but on the contrary, increases.

Svetlana… Svetlana… How many unbelievable abilities and talents were gathered in her! In one of Svetlana’s visits to Malta, she was allowed to visit the Maltese presidential library, which was previously the library of the Grand Masters of the Order of Malta, where a lot of unique manuscripts were collected. So, several manuscripts were brought to Svetlana. In half an hour she asked them to bring more. She was looked upon with surprise and asked about the reason for changing her mind about reading exactly these manuscripts. Was she not brought what she had ordered?

Svetlana answered that she was very grateful and those manuscripts were exactly what she needed, but she had already read everything. Her words surprised librarians and, on seeing surprise and bewilderment on their faces, Svetlana asked them to open any manuscript at any page and tell her what paragraph they want her to recite. And when the page and paragraph was indicated, Svetlana reproduced the text from her memory! The librarians’ surprise was infinite and when Svetlana asked them to bring more books in thirty or forty minutes, nobody asked the reason for such an unusual request.

I also can convey the essence of the content of a book or letter without opening them, but I never could reproduce word for word from a book or document which I read in similar manner. What I can do is to look through hundreds of pages for several minutes stop exactly at the place of a book which I looked for or I needed, but I could never reproduce the content of the pages which I skipped. It allowed me to work with books very quickly, but what Svetlana could do was something unbelievable. She could return mentally to the time when she looked through the pages quickly, stop at the necessary page and read it at normal speed while the book was not in her hands!

It is almost the same phenomena when she displaced herself into her own past and re-lived what happened to her in her childhood. She did not recall her child's years, like everybody usually does. Thanks to this ability she was able to convey word for word both what happened to her personally and of what she became a witness. It gave her a happy chance to reproduce the stories of all her childhood heroes, including Radomir and Magdalena, with her inherent unique gift of a talented writer.

When Svetlana and I visited Malta by invitation to the Presidential ball at the end of July–beginning of August, 1997, an unusual event happened there. Dark forces found the way to block highly developed spirits. First, the bearers of alpha-genetics or, as they are called in the Old Testament–strong people–had imposed upon them the idea of celibacy and service to the strange God in military orders, mainly the younger sons of the aristocratic families. Thus the majority of them did not have children and their highly developed spirits were doomed to eternal captivity being bound to their dead bodies. The thing is that the Maltese Knights, dead in wars, or from wounds, illnesses, or natural reasons, were buried in stone crypts or cells where their bodies could not decompose without the access of air and their spirits could not be rid of the dead bodies and became the eternal captives of these stone prisons.

The result of that was the following: thousands of highly evolved spirits were excluded from the circulation process. Therefore, spirits of a considerably lower level of development were incarnated into the alpha-genetics instead of them, which had deplorable consequences: rapid degeneration of alpha-genetics of many people and kin. In addition to that, the most prominent people had their heart and other organs extracted after death and buried separately from the body. Few knew that that happened according to the rituals of the Black Magic–Voodoo, because it was presented to people as a "sacred" church ceremony of providing higher honours to such important people! As a result of such "honours" all carriers of such genetics and their descendants had weak hearts and increased vulnerability in exactly those organs which were eviscerated from their distant ancestor…

There are a lot of churches and cathedrals in Malta where people walked right over the graves of knights of the Maltese order, and the most noble of them had their personal crypts. So, the captivated spirits appealed to me through Svetlana asking to be freed from the most frightful captivity one can imagine, which for many of them lasted for centuries. We picked out one evening and I began to work to free these unfortunate spirits from the captivity of the Dark. It’s a pity that few could see the striking sight of thousands of luminous spirits, soaring in the evening Maltese sky over all islands. They slowly went up over the dry land and, on moving away, dissolved in the sky. The unprecedented sense of relief which came from them was almost palpable…

After Svetlana’s funeral on November 24 I decided to check the answering machine of the home telephone, because it was precisely this phone that received the call which killed Svetlana. I did not do it earlier, because I was not sure about my reaction to the infrasonic weapon, although I had already had some experience of "interaction" with it, in all senses of this word. I wanted to be sure that I could see Svetlana off on her last journey, and only then could I risk myself. When I was completely alone (to avoid the slightest chance that anyone might suffer accidentally), I began to listen through the record. It contained the earlier messages which Svetlana wanted to keep. She erased my messages which I left during the night from 12th to 13th of November.

There were two or three of my messages which I left on Saturday before 6 p.m. Moscow time or 4 p.m. French time, but all my following messages up to 9.30 p.m. Moscow time were absent. Not once, but exactly after 6 p.m. Moscow time I called her on all phones several times per hour!!! Someone had erased all these messages! The question arises: who erased my messages and why? In fact the Chateau was sealed by the Gendarmerie, and nobody could penetrate it, except for the policemen who inspected it investigating the crime. This means that someone among them knew very well how Svetlana was murdered, and his task was to destroy the only material evidence of the murder–the record of the call which killed Svetlana.

But this person did not know exactly what message was fatal, because it was buried among my numerous messages. To search among them for the message which killed Svetlana meant listening to all the messages on the answering machine, and that meant that the listener would be another dead body as soon as he started reproducing that message! Undoubtedly, this man did not want to be dead, therefore he erased not only the message which killed Svetlana but also a dozen of mine without listening! I consider this fact another proof that Svetlana was murdered…

After the funeral I decided to look through the content of Svetlana’s computer. I hoped to find the materials she had worked with and did not have time to complete. Svetlana shared her plans for the nearest future with me and told with joy and satisfaction that she could "dig" out the information which would put the next spoke into the parasites’ wheel. She asked me to make covers for her future books The Children of the Sun, The Templars and DaArya. We discussed it long enough shortly before her murder and I asked her to think about what she would like to see on them. Svetlana was happy about all that like a child, her eyes lit up and a burning desire appeared in them. For a short while she forgot about the problems which heavily burdened her and the treacherous behaviour of the people who she had trusted and to whom she had opened her heart. Lately I had seen her in such good spirits very rarely. Only, when we worked together solving one or another problem, did Svetlana revive and become herself despite her tiredness because of such enormous loads. Work and her books always made her happy, despite the darkness which surrounded us and which became especially dark after I returned to Russia in 2006.

I shall write about all that in my Bio at length, if I have time, but Svetlana lived in an incessant hell precisely after I returned to my Motherland. Parasites of all stripes went absolutely mad: they had made our life complicated before too, but after my return they attacked us continuously from all possible and impossible levels of reality. I don’t remember a single day for the last four years which would pass without attacks from both other levels and the purely earthly one. Very often they were inflicted simultaneously from all levels! And I had to deal with them again and again, and restore the damages in Svetlana and me. But before the "old wounds" could heal, new blows poured down and then new ones …

But Svetlana did not surrender despite all that being very hard for her and a constant pain in the neck, hers. They failed to break her, no matter how hard they tried. Yes, there were tears in her eyes when those who she trusted betrayed her, tried to deceive and swindle, but she always wiped away tears of vexation, not of weakness, and fought the enemies, like a warrior. Svetlana was and is an amazing person, amazing woman. Maybe some day I shall tell you who in fact Svetlana was (and is) there, in Big Space, and what we succeeded in doing in these earthly bodies…

But now it’s not the time, and people will not understand that correctly, because all that will be beyond their comprehension, and everything that lies beyond comprehension frightens not only little children, about whom Svetlana wrote in her book but big children too. Only big children, already totally reduced to zombies by parasites, often behave worse than little children. Therefore, that will be the story of another day.

I found it painfully sad to examine Svetlana’s computer, because she could never do that herself. I felt as if she disappeared from Life with every minute, with every day. Her bank account was closed; all official papers, taxes, etc. are redirected to my name, because it is impossible to do anything without that in France, even if you wish. Her name disappears from the bills which come to the Chateau. It is very sad to watch all that–there was a person once and now there are no reminders of her. It always happens, but Svetlana is a special case. She left her book, although incomplete, although she did not have time to tell about the most interesting events of her life, but people had the chance to feel the truth in what she wrote with their hearts and souls! And this is what the enemies will never be able to destroy, distort or pervert.

I looked for new materials in Svetlana’s computer about which she told me, but which I had not seen; she usually asked me to be the very first reader of the chapters of her book.

The first joy came when I found part of the new chapter of Revelation. Svetlana wrote the last lines on November 7, 2010, just a week before her murder. I united it with what Svetlana had sent me before and got quite a good part of the chapter. Although it remains uncompleted, even that little bit, which Svetlana managed to write, fascinates, and it becomes terribly painful because nothing will follow…

The second joy came when I found a big enough part of Svetlana’s new book The Templars. Although this book Svetlana could not finish too, even uncompleted, it will be the next "bomb" which will tear off the lies with which parasites covered the good names of Light Warriors which they eliminated and then slandered their very memory. Svetlana managed to find irrefutable proofs that will make all the phrase-mongering on this subject which occupied thousands of pages in thousands books grow dim and fade.

On destroying the real Templars, parasites perverted and distorted the essence of what this organization was. The Templars were the first who understood the strategy and tactics of social parasites and began to create their own financial system as a counter-system to the parasitic one and achieved enormous success. Their financial system turned out to be much more powerful than the parasitic one. On finding out from where the winds blew, the parasites hurried to inflict the blow first, using their obedient slaves–the Pope and greedy, ambitious and mendicant Philip the Fair, the French king, as their instruments. It was exactly the Templars who created the first banks! After they were eliminated, social parasites took advantage of this invention, bringing the parasitic essence into it. Since then the Templars’ counter-weapon against parasites became social parasites’ faithful servant. Svetlana managed to find a lot of very unexpected and, frankly speaking, sensational things for her book. Although it will remain uncompleted, the material she managed to find and write became her next feat!

Oh, Svetlana! How many things you could give to people! How much truth you could bring to them, passing through yourself all pain and suffering of those, whose names had been cleansed of dirt thanks to you! How many names undeservedly forgotten or deliberately concealed by the parasites you opened up to the people, and how many more you would have opened, if it were not for your mean murder!!! Few know that at the end of May, 2010 the enemies inflicted a very strong blow at your brain, when your short-term memory was almost fully destroyed and several months of your long-term were wiped off, and if I had failed to stop this process, who knows what would have come of it in the end! Few know that while I restored the damage done to your brain, the attacks from all levels continued, but despite that, as soon as your memory was more or less recovered, you rushed to write the penultimate chapter of your Revelation!

It was still very hard for you after such damage to displace yourself into the distant past to reproduce the events which have helped (and still do) people to wake up, to feel that they are people again, not that faceless mass or sheep, as parasites call them behind their back. You hurried to bring truth to people–the truth which is more frightful than A-bombs or any other weapon, because it opens people’s eyes and, on knowing it, they do not allow anyone to make fools of them anymore. This truth resonates with them at the level of genetics, except, certainly, for the geneticists of social parasites which it drives wild and mad, because they begin to understand that they are losing their foothold, while they thought that they had already won totally and irrevocably.

You were afraid of only one thing; that you would be unable to finish you story about Isidora, which also became the story of Radomir, Magdalena and their children! You were prevented from doing so many things! So many magnificent ideas which you nurtured forever remained as such! How many splendid plans which we discussed will never be carried out, because nobody but you could do that! I shall complete some of them, but many, many things will forever remain a maliciously killed dream.

How many remarkable things will forever remain unpronounced by your splendid voice! How many people could be saved by the truth which you were prevented from bringing to them! Everything that you did was for the sake of others, getting in exchange the hatred of enemies and gratitude of friends the number of which constantly grew, as people read your book which gradually appeared on the web-site, chapter by chapter, which now will remain uncompleted forever. Few know that in July, being not quite recovered from that blow and many subsequent ones, you gathered all your strength and helped me to destroy the climate and geophysical weapon on July 20 and 22, 2010, when social parasites wanted, literally, to roast central Russia and destroy several million people. And then the social parasites lackeys yelled from all corners that it was all of natural causes and that the summer of 2010 was hot because the Sun was very "active" which was the reason for such anomalous heat in Russia!

It is of interest that, for "some" reason, the raging Sun burned out only central Russia, and the rest of the world did not have any idea that our luminary flew into a rage! How we rejoiced, when in a couple of hours after we eliminated this antihuman weapon, large drops of heavy summer showers began to fall onto withered earth and later the sky poured down continuous streams of water! Certainly, it did not happen everywhere at once, but the process started and went on. More summer showers poured down their waters on the earth covered by cracks. And when the geophysical weapon was eliminated on July 22, the anticyclone began to move, breaking predictions of different "specialists" which had promised that it would stay motionless till December.

You continue to fight with parasites even after your death by the mere fact of it. They fear you even after your death, when they see that people perceive and get saturated with your truth which you brought and continue to bring. They were scared about the reaction to your murder and began to publish different interviews with different pseudo-Svetlanas through their lackey-provocateurs, like Mr. Malyshev and Co., and tried to cover your name in mud, insolently falsifying everything they could! But none knew that you will continue to fight them after death. They did not know that you left such a "bomb" which will leave no stone unturned regarding their pitiable attempts to throw mud at you and it will become absolutely clear who in fact Mr. Malyshev and the like are and whom they serve…

My epilogue cannot be endless, but that does not mean that I shall stop telling your story when I put a full stop on this text, not at all! I shall continue to tell about you in my autobiographical chronicle, because our biographies interlaced so closely that they became one and continue to be such…

Nicolai Levashov
January 13, 2011

* According to traditional version of history Kievan Rus was under Tatar-Mongol Yoke from 1223 to 1480 and paid a levy to Tatar-Mongol khans. In fact the Yoke never existed. The Great Tartary, the mother country, sent their army to its western provinces to prevent the bloody christening, which cost 9 millions lives to the Slavs of Kievan Rus, from spreading further. Later the historians ascribed this outrageous human extermination to the never existed Yoke. (See Nicolai Levashov’s articles The Untold History of Russia-1 and The Untold History of Russia-2). (E.L.)

** The Grand Duchy of Lithuania was an Eastern European state from the 12th/13th century until 1569 on the territory of modern Byelorussia, Lithuania, Ukraine, part of Russia, Poland, Latvia and Estonia and then as a constituent part of Polish- Lithuanian Commonwealth until 1791. (Wikipedia)

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1. The beginning
2. A friend
3. The first "swallows"
4. The loss
5. Reality
6. The first contact
7. A test
8. The farewell
9. The awakening
10. Everyday life
11. The neighbours
12. Cookies
13. The fire that did not warm up
14. Loneliness
15. Giving eating up
16. The second contact
17. The result
18. Anesthesia
19. The neighbour
20. Unusual salvation
21. Unexpected guests
22. The poltergeist
23. A car accident
24. An angel
25. Stella
26. Stella-2. Harold
27. Stella-3. Axel
28. Stella-4. The astral world
29. Stella-5. Svetilo. The hell. Izolda
30. Stella-6. The mental world
31. Vaya. Other worlds
32. My parents
33. The surprise
34. Sorrow
35. Isidora
36. Isidora-2. Rome
37. Isidora-3. Meteora
38. Isidora-4. The Loss
39. Isidora-5. The Darkness
40. Isidora-6. Svetodar
41. Isidora-7. The Cathars
42. Isidora-8. The Key of Gods
43. Isidora-9. The loss of Anna. The woman Warrior
44. Isidora-10. Vidomir. The sleeping Kings