Fire at the Threshold: Neptune and Saturn Enter Aries
Fire at the Threshold: Neptune and Saturn Enter Aries
Preface:
Last year, I wrote a couple of pieces on the coming entry of Neptune and Saturn into fire.
Neptune re-enters Aries on 26 January 2026. It remains in Aries until 22 May 2038, with a brief final transition period as it prepares to move into Taurus in 2039
Saturn re-enters Aries on 13 February 2026 and remains there until 12 April 2028
Those articles explored the astrological mechanics and the broader implications of that shift. I will link them here for those who wish to read them.
“My full February transit and planetary outlook will be posted on January 30.
The first half of 2026 will test resilience on both psychological and physical levels.
Preparation matters. This is not fear. It is foresight.”
This piece below comes from a different place.
This time, I wanted to approach the moment from a deeper and more symbolic perspective, one that speaks less to prediction and more to meaning. In particular, I wanted to explore the themes of fire, light, and what are often referred to as 'destroyer' or 'warrior' angels.
Angels are commonly portrayed as passive, gentle, and soothing forces. That portrayal does not hold up when ancient texts are examined closely. In their original context, angels are not passive at all. They are force. They are strength. They confront, expose, and enforce truth, justice, and order when those things have been avoided for too long.
This, to me, reflects the higher essence of the Saturn–Neptune journey we are about to enter. Saturn applies pressure and demands accountability. Neptune dissolves illusion and reveals what has been hidden. Aries initiates action. Together, this is not a soft transition. It is an initiation.
What is being asked of us now is not comfort, but courage. Not belief, but alignment. This is a passage where light does not whisper. It confronts.
That is the perspective from which this piece is written.
When people hear the word “angel”, they usually imagine something gentle, comforting, and harmless. That image is familiar, but it is not where the idea began.
Across several strands of biblical thought, destroyer angels appear not as symbols of comfort but as agents of change. When the religious framing is set aside, and the idea is reduced to its essence, a clearer, more coherent meaning emerges. One that is not only comprehensible, but logical.
In the Hebrew Bible, angels are not decorative figures. They are agents. The word malakh simply means messenger, not comforter. What they deliver is instruction, exposure, or consequence. Comfort is incidental, not guaranteed.
So-called destroyer or warrior angels act under directive, not personal malice. In Exodus, Kings, Chronicles, and the prophetic texts, they execute judgment, confront corruption, and enforce outcomes that humans have long resisted. Their function is alignment with truth and order, not niceness.
Light exposing darkness is a recurring theme. Exposure is inherently disruptive. When systems are corrupt, illumination feels like destruction to those who benefit from the lie. From that angle, the angels are not evil. They are intolerant of falsehood. What collapsed was already unsound.
This is why angels are often described as frightening. Not because they are malevolent, but because clarity is unsettling. Light does not bargain with darkness. It reveals it. What restores order from one perspective can feel like violence from another.
The modern idea that angels must be soft, benevolent, and non-threatening is not biblical. It is aesthetic. Over time, strength became uncomfortable, so it was replaced with sweetness. Kindness was confused with goodness. Angels were turned into symbols of comfort rather than truth. That version asks nothing of the observer, which is precisely why it is popular.
Angels are rarely discussed in depth because they are functional, not central. The focus remains on human responsibility. Angels appear when something must be delivered, enforced, or corrected. Then they withdraw. No spectacle. No sentimentality.
Truth carries weight. It brings consequences. In the original narratives, angels do not argue with darkness or negotiate with lies. They expose them. If that exposure dismantles structures or ends chapters, that is not cruelty. It is alignment.
People were not merely misled by softened portrayals. Many preferred them. A comforting angel reassures you that nothing has to change. A truthful one makes change unavoidable.
Angels were never meant to soothe. They exist to execute intent. They appear when something must be revealed, corrected, or brought to an end. They do not linger or explain. Their presence signals that a threshold has been crossed and reality is asserting itself.
They are not the point. They are thresholds. They arrive when avoidance has run out, and responsibility can no longer be deferred.
It is also not uncommon in ancient accounts for angels to be described as taking human form and walking among people. This aspect is spoken of far less, mainly because it unsettles modern sensibilities. Yet across millennia, there are repeated accounts of encounters with beings who appeared ordinary, intervened at critical moments, delivered clarity or assistance, and then disappeared. Whether read literally or symbolically, the pattern is consistent. Help often arrives disguised as ordinary. Truth often does.
Strength that refuses to confront darkness is not goodness. It is avoidance. Angels, as they were understood initially, exist to end avoidance.
They were never meant to be warm or threatening.
They were meant to be precise.
Not companions. Thresholds.
That may not be comforting.
But it makes sense.
I feel drawn to write about this now because many people are quietly asking for guidance. Not theatrically or publicly, but inwardly. The world has become more unstable, and what was once hidden is increasingly exposed. Systems that relied on silence, distraction, or denial are being brought into view, whether people are ready for it or not.
This moment resembles a wounded beast. When survival is threatened, it does not become calm or reasonable. It thrashes. It strikes wildly. The chaos is not a sign that change is failing. It is a sign that something unsustainable is fighting to remain in place.
There is a reason the saying "it is darkest before dawn" exists. Resistance intensifies just before transition. The struggle sharpens at the threshold. This is the phase where light does not arrive gently. It arrives decisively. Revelation without confrontation is not clarity. It is avoidance. And there is no clean passage when systems collapse. There never has been.
Transformation requires pressure. Elevation requires effort. Nothing is lifted without resistance. This is not punishment or failure. It is natural law. It is the same principle found in alchemy, where breakdown precedes refinement. Matter must be reduced before it can be reformed.
What we are witnessing now is not random disorder. It is transmutation. The process is uncomfortable because it must be. What cannot survive truth is being exposed. What can will endure in a different form.
This moment can also be understood symbolically through the movement of Saturn and Neptune into Aries. Saturn brings pressure, structure, and accountability. Neptune dissolves illusion and exposes what has been avoided. Aries initiates action. Together, this is not a gentle passage. It is an initiation by fire.
This is not a time for passivity or spiritual bypassing. It is time to hold firm and stand strong. Convictions spoken casually will be tested in practice. Beliefs inherited rather than embodied will fall away. What remains will be what is real.
Our hearts already recognise truth. The question is whether we are willing to live in alignment with it, even when it costs comfort, identity, or certainty.
Initiations are never comfortable. They are thresholds. You do not pass through them by thinking correctly, but by standing when pressure is applied. This is where clarity becomes embodied rather than imagined.
What is being asked now is not perfection, but courage. Not certainty, but integrity.
The fire does not arrive to destroy what is true.
It arrives to reveal what can endure.
That is not a cause for fear.
It is a signal that change is already underway.
By Delahrose Roobie Myer
