Quintessential Elemental: Whispers in the Wind, Nina's Story by Kevin Wikse

Kevin Wikse Quintessential Elemental

Nina stood at the edge of the rooftop, her bare, itchy feet numb against the icy concrete. The wind howled around her, biting at her skin, but her body remained frozen, no longer able to feel the cold. She’d run so far, escaped so much, but here she was again—alone, cornered, staring down into the abyss.

Her life had always felt like a series of endless escapes. From the day she was seven, clutching her doll as her mother and father’s car flipped and rolled on that highway in Manila, their screams echoing in her memory. Afterward, the foster homes—each one worse than the last—until she ran from them too, straight into the heart of New York City’s merciless streets.

Homeless, forgotten, invisible. She had become adept at blending into the shadows, a ghost among the bustling crowd of people who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see her. But ghosts witnessed things, didn’t they? And one night, at a familiar haunt in a filthy alley near the river, she had seen too much.

The woman’s face was still etched in Nina’s mind: pale, hollow-cheeked, desperate. A dark-eyed Croatian woman trafficked and traded, her final moments full of terror as the Russian mobsters choked the life out of her. Nina had barely breathed as she watched from behind a dumpster, her own heartbeat roaring in her ears. And then, somehow, they had seen her. Eyes cold as steel met hers. That was the moment everything changed.

Now, only a week later, they had caught her, dragged her kicking and screaming to the top of the high rise. They’d laughed as they lifted her over the ledge, taunting her, telling her no one would care if she splattered across the pavement below. The police would rule it a suicide, another forgotten immigrant girl whose heart had given up before her body had.

She stood there now, at the very edge, her knees trembling, but her spirit refused to buckle. She thought of her mother, of the gentle lullabies sung in Tagalog that had once cradled her to sleep. She hadn’t thought of those songs in years, hadn’t let herself remember the softness of her mother’s hands, the smell of jasmine in her hair—soft and ephemeral.

And then, they pushed her.

The world tilted, and Nina’s body sliced through the air. The ground rushed toward her with terrifying finality. Her breath was ripped from her lungs, and for a moment, panic surged through her, wild and uncontrollable. She closed her eyes, bracing for the impact, for the end, singing to herself one last lullaby in her mother’s voice.

But in that split second before oblivion, something changed. A warmth blossomed around her, tender and reassuring. It was as though the very air had softened, cushioning her fall. Her heart stilled, and in her mind’s eye, she saw her mother.

Nina could see her so clearly now, as if she had never left—her face radiant, her smile soft and knowing. The world around her blurred, and all Nina could focus on was the image of her mother, floating there, shimmering like an ethereal vision. She reached out, as if her fingers could brush against that beloved face.

“Nina,” her mother whispered, the voice a gentle caress against the roar of the wind. “I have you.”

Before she could even understand what was happening, the rushing speed of her fall slowed. A warm, steady breeze seemed to hold her, lifting her, cradling her. The gray clouds overhead shifted, parting to reveal a strange, luminous being, shaped vaguely like a person but filled with light, misty and undefined. The air around Nina swirled, and the being’s arms stretched out beneath her, guiding her descent. The cloudy form had the same softness as her mother, the same warmth she remembered from when she was a child.

Her body floated gently down, descending with grace rather than terror. The streetlights below flickered, casting long shadows across the empty road, and her feet touched the ground as lightly as a feather falling on a breeze. She stood there for a moment, trembling, her heart pounding in disbelief. The building loomed above her, but she was alive.

Nina looked up, her eyes searching the sky. The clouds had shifted again, the wind dying down to a soft, distant whisper. She felt her mother’s presence still, lingering as if watching over her from just beyond the veil of the world.

The warmth began to fade, but it left a trace within her, a memory of protection, of love stronger than anything the darkness of the world could throw at her.

Nina clenched her fists, her breath ragged, but her resolve sharpened. She had survived so much and had lost everything. But something beyond this world had brought her back, had caught her when no one else had. Whatever force had saved her, be it her mother’s spirit or something else, she wasn’t about to waste this second chance. The promise of a greater purpose started to settle over her.

The wind picked up again, swirling her hair around her face, and she walked into the night feeling like a leaf riding an autumn breeze, her shadow stretching long behind her.

No longer a girl running from death but a girl who had a message for all those living in fear and all those causing it, a message of both hope and retribution carried on the wind.

-Kevin Wikse



Thank you for visiting my page. I am the only medium, remote viewer, and occultist who, with frightening and stunning accuracy, foresaw the COVID-19 pandemic/hoax and its sinister connections to China. Masks, weaponized and experimental vaccines, mandatory compliance, medical tracking on smartphones, the debacle of the 2020 election, the border crisis, the ILLEGAL migrant and CCP invasion, the specter of World War III, and the looming Magnetic Pole Reversal Global Cataclysm—I predicted it all. VAIDS (Vaccine Acquired Immunological Deficiency Syndrome) and even Dr. Fauci himself, all in my sights as early as 2014. Don’t believe it? See the complete, time-stamped, and documented evidence HERE. 

Additionally, I accurately predicted BOTH President Trump’s assassination attempt and that Joe Biden would not run again in 2024 for re-election in my “Merry Crisis and a Happy New Fear” 2024 post on 1/1/24. HERE

I predicted the 2nd assassination of President Trump on Friday, 9/13/2024, which occurred on Sunday, 9/15/2024. HERE.

And that’s not all. My occult and remote influencing work played a pivotal role in the downfall of Jeffrey Epstein, the billionaire pedophile and human trafficker. This too is time-stamped and documented. Witness a true and authentic act of Solomonic conjuration from the Lesser Key, Ars Goetia. HERE. 

Please visit my Official Site HERE.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Witch Doctor and his Demon Dog: Conjuration and Black Magic with the Demon Sirchade by Kevin WIkse.

Image
Blood trickled profusely from her nose, cascading down, in, and over her busted lips, pooling at her feet, splattering on mine. Her left eye dangled from its socket, a gruesome pendulum. Tears and blood left a trail of misery on the floor of my double-wide. Her beautiful face, with its exotic features and dark caramel complexion, was beaten to a pulp. She was almost unrecognizable. It was hard to look at, harder still to maintain my calm. I teetered on the brink of going nuclear. But that’s not what she needed. She needed comfort and security. I would walk the warpath soon enough. She sobbed and wailed on my shoulder, and I held her tenderly until her sister arrived. The three of us solemnly discussed what would happen next. No cops. That was a given. The police would interfere with natural justice and add unnecessary complications. Her sister would drive her to a friend’s place outside Phoenix. Her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t think to look there. Her daughter would stay with her aunt and un...
Read more

Quintessential Elemental: Drowning in Silence, Aputi's Story by Kevin Wikse

Image
Rain fell in a slow, steady drizzle, a melancholy backdrop to the world outside the frosted window of the tiny apartment. Sixteen-year-old Aputi, her name meaning “snow” in her native Inuktitut, sat curled on the edge of her narrow bed, staring out into the grey Seattle streets below. The city never felt like home, but it had been her cage since her father died, since everything that once held meaning washed away like the tide. Her father, Qimmiq, had been everything to her—a stoic fisherman who never spoke much but who radiated a quiet love that filled their small world. He wasn’t the kind of man to lavish words or displays of affection, but his presence had always made her feel safe, like an anchor in a storm. When the Pacific claimed him, it had been like watching the horizon collapse into itself. Aputi hadn’t seen it happen, but she could imagine the scene too well—his strong hands pulling at the nets, the salt spray on his weathered skin, and then the icy waves closing over him. A...
Read more

Strange Strangers: The night things changed.

Image
In the quiet, inky blackness of early morning, I awoke with a start. The room was shrouded in darkness, the kind that seemed to swallow up even the faintest hope of light. My young mind, perhaps no older than five or six, instinctively knew the hour. Just past 3 a.m., that liminal time when the world teeters on the edge of something otherworldly. Anxiety bubbled up within me, a nameless fear that I couldn't yet articulate, but it was there, as real as the walls of the ranch-style house in Chino, California, where I lived. I can still trace the layout of that house in my mind, every corner, every shadowed hallway. Even then, I had an intimate knowledge of its contours, perhaps because there were times, just before dawn, when I would find myself in different parts of the house, far from the safety of my bed. The clock ticked toward 5 a.m., the hour when my father would rise, a man of little patience. His wrath was a thing to be avoided at all costs. The thought of flipping on a hall ...
Read more