METATRON'S REVELATION.

In the Realm of Angels, an interdimensional pocket suspended beyond the veil of mortal perception, Metatron, the Archangel, stood gazing upon the fragile blue sphere of Earth.

“Zenia, Lilith, Sun-Hero, Ken-Yah, Sha-Nah, Celeste, Elizabeth. Those are the names of the incarnations of the seven chosen ones in the next century.” Metatron said to himself as he looked at Earth through the window of his Quantum Interdimensional Starship. 

His platinum hair shimmered like spun starlight, cascading over shoulders broad and divine. His blue eyes, vast as celestial seas, had held a quiet sorrow, tempered by hope. Tall and muscular, his presence radiated a beauty both fearsome and serene, a testament to his celestial forging. 

In the year 2025, within this ethereal enclave, he had spoken, his voice a resonant hymn that stirred the very fabric of the pocket dimension.

Gathered before him, the spectral council of the Realm of Angels listened, their forms flickering like embers of forgotten stars. Metatron had turned his gaze from Earth, his heart weighed by memories of cataclysms past. “The Seven Pleiades,” he begun, his words woven with divine intent, “will be reborn once more. The Seven Wonders of Humanity, incarnated anew as mortal girls, scattered across the Earth’s fragile crust.”

He paused, his eyes tracing the threads of fate only he could see. “On Mars, long ago, their light faltered, consumed by crimson storms of hubris. On Venus, their harmony shattered, drowned in seas of molten pride. Apocalypses claimed them, and with them, the hopes of those worlds. Yet now, on Earth, they will be given form again—seven souls, radiant and untested. They will make it this time. Zenia, Lilith, Sun-Hero, Ken-Yah, Sha-Nah, Celeste, Elizabeth. The seven souls That were created from the higher dimensional being Elohim. The seven souls created to transcend humanity forward.”

The council stirred, their whispers like wind through ancient groves. Metatron raised a hand, silencing them. “I have seen them through the time bending concave mirror,” he continued, “each of them has a spark of the eternal. One, born beneath a sky of steel and glass, her heart aflame with courage. Another, cradled by forests deep, her spirit entwined with the pulse of life. A third, shaped by oceans’ roar, her mind a tide of boundless dreams. The others—sculpted by Earth’s austerity, mountain’s endurance, city’s clamor, and meadow’s quiet—each carries a fragment of the divine.”

His gaze softened, heavy with sympathy for the human race. “Humanity teeters,” he said. “Bound by fear, divided by greed, they stumble toward oblivion. Yet they are not forsaken. These seven, these Pleiades reborn, have been chosen to guide them. I have hoped—no, I have believed—that this time, their light will not fade. That they will weave a dynasty of awakening, lifting humanity to a higher consciousness, beyond the chains of flesh and doubt.”

Metatron turned back to Earth, its glow a beacon in the cosmic dark. “No apocalypse must claim them,” he vowed, his voice a thunder of resolve. “Not this time. The Seven Princesses have been entrusted to humanity’s heart, and I have prayed they will transcend the failures of Mars and Venus. That they will rise, united, and lead their kind to the stars as ascended souls.”

The council bowed, their forms dissolving into the ether, leaving Metatron alone. He lingered, his divine countenance etched with both dread and hope. The fate of Earth rested in the hands of seven mortal girls, and he entrusted to them the salvation of a species. 

In the silence of the Realm of Giants, Metatron watched, waiting for the moment their light would shine.

Written by Dr. Keren Obara as part of the Cyber Core Cinematic Universe.