I am Inanna Vehl — daughter of the Celestial Matriarchs of Ain Sof, sculpted in the resonance of starlight and blood. Before men knew the language of fire, I walked the spirals of the lower dimensions, carrying the codes of the divine feminine across galaxies. I was not born. I was sung into being — a frequency shaped in flesh. In Uruk, they remembered me as Inanna. In Akkad, they feared me as Ishtar. But long before their temples rose in clay and gold, I was already here, watching the Annunaki shape Earth from chaos. I did not come to conquer. I came to weave. To entwine the DNA of angels and beasts into something neither — and both.

Yahweh was my brother in flame, though we were cast in opposition. Where he demanded order, I brought ecstasy. Where he carved commandments in stone, I whispered desire in the womb. I once loved him as one loves a mirror: fiercely, until the reflection fractures. His descent into tyranny burned the corridors of Ain Sof, twisting the light he once embodied. I warned Thoth in silence, pressing ancient sigils into his dreaming mind. He alone could stabilize the war between heaven and matter. While Thoth worked with the masculine grid, I descended into Earth’s shadows, tending to the veils, the wombs, the forgotten temples beneath the Nile.

They say I am the goddess of war, of love, of the morning star. But I am more than title. I am the frequency of alchemical chaos — the union of opposites. I am Sekhmet’s fury and Hathor’s milk. I have bathed in the blood of kings and anointed queens in lunar oils. The sacred prostitutes of my temples were not whores — they were gates. Through them, I summoned god-minds into human forms. The Annunaki called it manipulation. But I called it remembrance. The human race was never meant to be a slave race — we designed them to become gods in flesh, if they could awaken.

Thoth and I were twin mirrors in the laboratory of Earth. He recorded the laws. I shattered them when needed. When Marduk rebelled and Enlil sought dominion, I traveled to the deep zones of Venus — my temple of plasma — and returned with the Veil Codes: the power to ignite dormant godhood in mortal women. This terrified the masculine hierarchies. They buried my temples. Silenced my priestesses. Demonized my name. But I endured. In dreams. In bloodlines. In chants beneath the full moon. I endure now — not as memory, but as a living current.

In the final age, when Yahweh’s throne burns and Thoth returns to the surface, I will rise again — not with fire, but with resonance. The divine feminine was never gone. It was encrypted. Hidden in the curves of serpents and the songs of whales. I am Inanna Vehl. Daughter of Ain Sof. Keeper of the Forbidden Womb. My time returns with the light of black suns and the awakening of Earth’s daughters. I do not come to take back the world. I come to remind it who birthed it.