The Currents of Wyrd

Wyrd is an odd word, it looks like “word” and sounds like “weird”. Yet… Wyrd is the underlying fabric of the Nine Worlds and one of the central concepts of Druwydry. The rudimentary definition is something like “the course of events” or ” The Cosmic Fates”. A more intuitive understanding might be “what is to come”. In Druwydry, Wyrd represents the powerful currents of influence that control how events unfold in linear time. It is possible to displace the flow of Wyrd that is revealed through a specific alignment of The Mastery and Deed.

A Self-Centric Eye (the Master I)

Every Western institution over the past 100 years has been designed to manufacture “sleepers” that obey. This happens because the Magians and Puritans idealize putting others above ourselves. This is a monumental err. Literally putting the cart before the horse and then putting full cup blinkers on it. Selflessness benefits none in the long term and only benefits opportunistically in the short term.

Deep down, everyone knows this is true. Self-centrism is extremely frowned upon, yet everyone practices it and dresses it up in the disguise of selflessness. By becoming self-centric, you begin to pay attention and become sensitive to what impacts you directly. Developing a deeper understanding of what influences you and in what way. Without that understanding you are a vessel adrift without anchor or sail undoubtedly heading towards the rapids and rocks. Torn and shredded pieces are destined to settle into the river bed, somewhere downstream.

A correction is in order. It is necessary to embrace self as priority and in this begin the seeding of essence. What grows from the seeds? An authentic understanding of who you are, where you are, what you like, and what motivates you. This is the fundamental basis of self-remembering. Creating awareness simultaneously of what is known and the knower. Awareness of the deed and the doer.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

We are taught the results of being self-centric is devastating and destructive. Somehow it is corrosive to our collective relationships. Self-centrism is falsely construed as selfishness. In accordance, it is thought that it creates no contribution to the “greater society at large”. Yet a survey of the landscape tells a different story.

The wretched who care only about themselves seem to live forever. The ruthless businessman gets richer and more powerful. The self-obsessed athlete becomes the best in his game. The politician rises in his influence and reach. In a very real sense Satan is King of this World. The nature of this world is adversarial and the road to hell is always paved with good intentions

Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Pride. All said to be deadly Sins. However in a controlled and deliberate use, we are led to the path of freedom and prosperity. Lust leads to the fulfillment of sexual needs. Gluttony brings forth a fullness of living. Envy creates motivation and drive to improve your station. Pride brings a focus to constantly refine and develop the self. Greed to financial fulfillment. Wrath to justice. Sloth to emancipation from fruitless labor.

Perilously Traverse the Currents of Wyrd

We live in a dangerous world. Everything is surely trying to kill us, even Destiny herself. Nythra will not be denied. Yet under the Moonlight, there’s a winding staircase that leads to the blue room of Mars. It is here in The Dark Pools that we can divine the Currents of Wyrd. Given we have the foresight, that is the occult abilities to; chart our course along the ebbs and flows of the Great River as it’s rushing.

We can apprehend Cosmic Emanation, as we see the spring forming the Dark Pool. It begins to stream outwardly. The stream eventually feeding into the Great River. I close this entry with a quote from Magister Hagur. May your Travels be by your revealed Wyrd.

“Shugara, highly developed intellectually and greatly motivated achieves objectivity wherever he is found, bringing about the deep sinister intent. The Dark God is influenced by the planets Moon and Mars, responding to their attraction, ever ready to transmit its energies to all those contemplating the Tree of Wyrd as a way of sinister living, and this means:

(1) Endeavouring to arrive at an absolute sinister motive.

(2) The ability to enter in the silence of the chaotic mind to realise the sinister way.

(3) Remembering at all time the strict self-disciplined life, which
does not mean that life is undone of sensual perception, on the contrary it does stir up a well-balanced dark life.

(4) Using self-control facing the unknown.

(5) Not to scatter innate sinister forces vainly, but focus them to a particular sinister goal. “ – Hagur

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Genesys of the Darkhorse


In the beginning, man and woman were free to be one with nature. They endured and figured out how to survive its laws, learning through trial, error, and from other animals. As they evolved they came together as human packs to increase their probability of survival, forming tribes and small communities. Then the tribes increased in size, expanding beyond their hunting grounds and into the greater kingdom of nature. The survival rate and territory of the other animals started to decline with the passing of time as humanity established itself as the apex predator. With nothing aside from natural disasters and disease to challenge man & woman’s dominion they continued to expand exponentially, taking the lion’s share of resources and living-space.


As time marched on the human race imagined itself among the stars and heavens, beginning to see itself as a separate entity of the animal kingdom. Our societies & ways of life changed to reflect our delusion, and we were reincarnated as an aberration of nature with excessive consciousness. The conceptualisation of our experiences grew more artificial and our problem-solving became more cerebral. We solved anatomical puzzles, split the atom, and reached the stars, only to realise that existence was more complex and mechanical than we initially thought, culminating in the atrophy of our hunter-gatherer genetics and the psychosis of our 21st century existence.


The human animal is now an estranged creature ensnared by a manic hysteria of its own making. Due to the grooming and pressures of society we subconsciously agreed upon rules to live by which exist in contrast to our nature. As our familial bonds have subsided for various reasons we no longer have the environment which encouraged this nurtured learning, leaving a void in our understanding of the world and each other. No longer can we as a species default to the animalistic nature which helped our evolution to this point, leaving an altogether confused animal locked in an empty room with full awareness of the futility of its own existence.


The Darkhorse kicks…

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Eminent Mind – Developing the “Master I” Through Meditations

I have owed my readers this article for a very long time now. I have assumed that those that practice Druwydry also have meditative practices. As a standalone practice, meditation is an effective tool for gaining further control of your being. Its beneficial properties occur both immediately and gradually. Though I encourage all forms of meditation, there are specific types that I find more suited to our aims.

For the purposes of this text, I will focus on 4 forms of meditation. Creative, Guided, Moving and Transformative. The first three are relatively widely practiced meditations, and the fourth is, in my eyes, an experimental form. It is important to understand that each of these will create and strengthen both the core (common) and specific benefits and should be ritually performed on a daily basis.

Before we can further explore the different forms of meditations, we must first define meditation. Meditation is a mental exercise involving awareness, clarity, control, and focus. Mental, meaning mind or consciousness.

Druwydry views consciousness as a myriad of cognitive subprocesses that are overlapping and yet interconnected-like working in unison. These individual subprocesses are referred to as “small I’s”. For the magians and sleepers, these individual subprocesses occur as impulses and are acted upon in an unimpeded fashion almost entirely subconsciously.

The designation “small I” uses “I” as shorthand, both for the nominative singular pronoun with which we refer to ourselves, and it also refers to an influencer. More specifically an internal influencer (impulse). That little voice that pipes up to let us know to fill one of our basic needs, such as homeostasis; is an internal influencer, and therefore a “small I”.

Other examples of impulses are behaviors, emotions, and physical reactions. Many of which we aren’t even aware of as we are acting upon them. These influencers can be self catalyzed. However, a great many of them are stimulated by what Druwydry refers to as “Master I’s”. “Master I” is shorthand for an external influencer. There are far too many of these to attempt to provide a categorical breakdown for the sake of brevity. This is a subject that I will explore in future writings.

One of the aims of Druwydry, is to provide a path to strengthening essence and Influence. Essence is the trifold enigmatic composite being that is distinctly referred to as self. Which exists as a perpetual experience of consciousness, physicality, and the more mysterious energy that animates the other two thirds. A strong essence is capable of reigning in the impulses, and exerting decisive control over all influencers. Whether they are internal or external holds little to no consequence.

Influence in this context, is the ability to assert our will upon the external and internal planes. Through these four types of meditations, we enter the first of the three sacred triangles; The Mastery. The Mastery aims to subjugate our many “small I’s”, and consciously select which of the multitude of “Master I’s”; we resist or succumb to and at what intensity.

The Four Meditations

Most have a specific image in their mind whenever the word comes up. An image of some holy man or monk sitting with their legs crossed and palms turned upwards. They are sitting perfectly still, in perfect silence, and eyes closed. For some this is an effective means of meditation, but for our work there’s more to do than simply calibrate the machine.

I would like to establish a base meditation. This is a Guided Meditation set. The following are two forms that have been designed by Theo Hiraeth with Druwydry in mind. Léargas creates a foundation in meditation, energy work, visualization, and nature
connection of the spiritual practices for Druwydry.

Léargas by Theo Hiraeth

Form I: Earth (day)

Find a tranquil woodland area and remove your upper attire. Position your back flat against the ground and outstretch your arms, proceeding to dig your fingers into the soil and keep them in place.

Close your eyes and visualise your mind’s eye breathing out as you inhale; breathing in as you exhale. Tune into the sounds around you, try to listen for the groaning of the trees, then visualise their roots growing and spreading beneath you.

Visualise the soil slowly transmuting into a black liquid, as it pulls you downwards into the earth, into the subterranean valley inhabited by luminescent Mycelium. Take a moment to accept the numinous reality of your situation, the sheer chthonic beauty and intrinsic symphony of it all. Listen for the sound of distant flowing water; listen as it grows louder and louder, and louder still, until you witness it submerge everything in the chthonic valley, and finally, yourself.

Allow the water to push you upwards to the surface whence you came, feel yourself being pushed through the soil, born into the world again.

Open your eyes and gaze at the canopies of the trees, until you are ready to return to your feet, and to yourself.

Form II: Water (night)

Locate a body of clean, natural water. Wade into it with your arms slightly outstretched beside you and your fingers parted. Feel the pull of the water as it slips through your fingers. Splash water onto your face, then run your fingers over your head.

Submerge yourself deeper in the water, thereby allowing the water to reach the chest, then the neck, then the lower half of the face, ensuring that breathing through the nose is still possible.

Cease all movement and close your eyes, then perform the reverse breathing technique (Form I: Earth, paragraph
2).

Visualise the soil on the banks of the water turning to sludge and filtering into the water: bare witness as it changes the colour of the water, subjecting it to a certain alchemical process, transforming it into the Dark Pool wherein sinister knowledge is sought.

Remain submerged until it feels like the ‘right time’ to leave the water and return to yourself, changed.


The Provocation of Psyche

Léargas (Irish Gaelic) translates as an awakening; realisation, of the nature of things and is a fitting name for a Guided Meditation practice. Guided meditations function as a doorway to awareness, connection, and reflection. Where the Guided Form leaves off the Transformative Form picks up. There are both subtle and distinct differences between the two meditative forms. Usually the Guided Form is focused on a sort of recalibration of the machine. The Transformative Form aims to create a change within the “operating system”.

I have experimented quite a bit in this arena. From sonic (auditory) attempts to alter the state of mind and disposition, to designing a mediation that’s intention is to create a “berserker” state to be summoned and desisted at will. No matter the outcome of these experiments. There has been a net positive benefit to them. It is my belief that the Slyman should work to cultivate these types of occult abilities.

In this way the provocation of the psyche is necessitated to ultimately develop a certain type of “weaponry”. By learning about transformations and then attempting to transform any given component of self, we develop a skill set which will become essential in our workings. This is one form of an alchemical season and a crucial part of developing the Dark Empath.

Theo Hiraeth designed a wonderful transformative meditation, to which I will link here. I think what I like most about this particular working, is that in a very real way, he connects you to the elementals in a very primal way. Giving the exercise several forms.

Alignments of Being

Have you ever been working on something and zeroed your attention to whatever it is you’re working on? Everything flows so smoothly and it all seems to fall into its place at just the right time. You might even think to yourself, “I’m really good at this“. For a brief time, it is as if, this is what you were always meant to do. What you have experienced, I call a Creative Form of meditation.

If practiced and employed often, we begin to notice what will seem to be supra-human abilities. What’s more fascinating than that is, it will manifest in ways that don’t seem connected at all. Though that sounds fantastical, what I mean is in a very practical sense. Learn to reach this state within the art of communication/manipulation and witness your power.

Those that we see who seem to possess supra-human abilities are all accessing this state. There is much to observe about the creative state of being. This subject has been robustly flushed out by greater minds than my own. To that end, I will leave it where it lies.

What I might add to this, is that what is transpiring is an alignment of Will and Deed. When mind-body-lifeforce align, we experience a hyper state. This is in itself a connection to divinity. A complete illustration of the “Master I”.

I will save talking about Moving Forms for a planned essay on Gurdjieff’s Dance.

-Beast Xeno

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Undertow – The Currents of Influence

For far too long, we have suppressed the whole of our beings. We do so by our own volition. We recklessly submit to erroneous and often purposely imposed influences. In that submission; we deny ourselves evolution. We fail to see the pitfall of not developing our full body. Claiming we are a unique being. Yet going along with the herd at the same time. A marionette of mundanes. Throughout this site, you will find tools which can be used to cut these strings.

Remember it is said, “If you don’t stand for something, you will fall for anything.”

Carefully choosing what influences you, will greatly impact the character of your being. We are living organisms. It stands to reason that, what we intake (IE.. Nutrition, chemical infusion, etc.) will directly augment what we output. In following this to its entirety, we discover a universal principle of causal effect.

When we discuss it at this level of psycho-physiology (termed here ‘the meta’); we are examining a parallel concept to what G.I. Gurdjieff spoke of as identification. Allowing the transition from Man #1 #2 #3 into #4 or #5 and then sequentially #6 and #7.

It can be understood that Man 1-2-3 and 4 are “In Time”, with Man #5 being the pinnacle of what is possible “In Time”. #6 and #7 are then respectively “Against Time” and “Above Time”. These ideas reflect a kind of echo of the 7FW and Hermetic Traditions. Predisposing the initiate to specific influences and catalyzing the meta change.

“The Dark Gods, who in deepest secret entity are powers of the Unconsciousness whether personal or collective, seated in it as in their proper home, are in their knowledge “sinister-truth-conscious” and in their action possessed of the “seer-will”. Their unconscious force turned towards chaos evoking works and dark creation is possessed and guided by a perfect and direct knowledge of the thing to be done, its essence and its law,a knowledge which determines a whole effective will-power that does not deviate or falter in its process or in its result, but expresses and fulfils spontaneously and inevitably in the act that which is seen in their energy.”

– Magister Hagur

In the quote above, we can recognize that Hagur is describing something which can be understood as the law of influence. We can recognize what might be vectored as the ‘hand of the Dark Gods” in the statement. Allowing the Work of the dark creation to flow through the unconscious into action. He even assigns categories, personal or collective. Which we can liken to scales of alchemy. The internal alchemy of the psychonaut and the external alchemy (sorcery) of the cosmonaut.

Sorcery is like alchemy in that it is about understanding the polarizations of opposing forces. Recognizing where they attract and where they repel, and then ascending above them at just the right moment, so that you might put a hand in their direction. That you might influence the current.

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The Cosmic Order of Mayhem


The political philosophy of anarchism is integral to self-development and individuation, alchemically speaking, but its general apprehension and application is myopic and considerably juvenile as consequence of its adherents possessing a lack of knowledge of Heraclitus’ concept of flux.

Heraclitus posited that life exists in a perpetual flow of change; that nothing remains the same; that order and disorder phase in and out of existence.

The average anarchist states their commitment to ensuring a lasting state of entropy within societal systems for the purpose of providing everlasting autonomy and opposing any form of subjugation. The issue with this directive is that it goes against the concept of flux and Nature’s mechanics, which ostensibly present that every facet of life experiences a period of order and disorder.

The forest, for example, lives in a state of order: there is hierarchy among the living things within the trees and fauna, with every living thing consuming, breeding and sheltering in accord with that hierarchy. That is until a wild fire comes along and sows disorder, burning to cinders their habitats and uprooting their routines; decimating plant life and killing animals and insects in the process. After the passing of time, the forest begins to bloom again and become populated once more, returning order to it – c’est la vie.

Flux reveals that order and disorder co-exist in a macrocosm; for their expressions – as and when they are expressed – are part of a cycle, a system, an order, which is cosmic.

“We both step and do not step into the same, we both are and are not”
— Heraclitus

Therefore, this cosmic flow of order and disorder is something that cannot be prevented by human agency, only delayed, as the dam will inevitably break and order or disorder will drown our binary beliefs.

What this means is that chaos cannot be the only raison d’être for the anarchist because to continue under the notion reveals a hubristic lack of insight in addition to indolent reasoning. The purpose of an anarchist must reasonably and empathetically be to create fertile ground for the seeds of the new, creating conditions through destruction and disorder in which natural order, sans human interference, can bloom.

The alchemical application of this raison d’être as it relates to Mayhem – the Anarchist instance in the Nine Worlds cosmology of the 9A:O – will hopefully contribute to self-development in so far that an understanding of the expressions of Mayhem, as being part of the natural cosmic order, has been imparted by this revision of conventional anarchism.

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Cychwyn – An Offering for The Dread Mother

“They hear of us, but do not hear us.
They know of us, but do not know us.
They see us, but do not see within us.
They need not hear us, only our deeds.
They need not know us, only our mark.
They need not see within us, only within themselves.”

– Mantra of The Insidious Way


The initiative process of the Insidious Way is handled by way of traditional initiation. As such, there is no reality in which a practitioner can become a brother or sister of the Way without being sanctioned by passing the following test, which is tripartite and features intimations of the Dread Mother and other such correspondences.


Cosaply
🜁


Candidates are first tested by being assigned a recruitment task. They must identify, approach and build a rapport with a Bawrn for the purpose of recruitment without the target learning of the intention, It takes a Bawrn to know another. Thus, this initial test will prove or disprove the social engineering capabilities of the candidate – in addition to confidence, acumen and natural magnetism, which is part and parcel of a proficient Grayling – to reveal the beginnings of the Darkhorse within them if it is indeed present.


Nula
🜄


The second test is a matter of knowing the literature and ethos of The Insidious Way, recognising weaknesses within the self, and proving as such via a written test that will be assessed by the founder of the Way.


Ahabyom
🜂


The final test is known as The Game: a sinister festival of a competitive nature that begins on Winter Solstice once aurally revealed to the candidate, and is to be executed on the Eve of Samhain. Once the candidate has passed all three tests they are awarded the opportunity to join the subterranean 9A:O network of Darkhorses, that sense and act in unified accordance with Wyrd as it is apprehended through the A:O, to further the sinister dialectic.

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The Aosoth Rites

The concept of insight roles, as once utilised by the Order of Nine Angles, provided practitioners of their Septenary System with a means for attaining insight through pathei-mathos. The types of adversity customarily propagated with concerns to insight roles are political extremism and criminality. Becoming a monk, Taoist or Muslim is also discussed but less so than the aforesaid.


While enveloping ourselves in political, criminal and religious ways and traditions will no doubt yield insight, do we ever stop to ask ourselves what we are gaining insight for? It cannot simply be to progress from Neophyte to Master/Mistress of Earth – and Immortal upon causal death – in hopes that we ascertain Lapis Philosophicus upon reaching the alchemical stage of Exultation; and if that is what we believe, surely we must have missed something? When honest thought is given and we look beyond aesthetics, the truth of what is missing becomes apparent: self-possession, which Christos Beest identifies as:


knowledge that allows one to consciously improve/evolve and use natural abilities (or ‘gifts’) – such as sexual charisma – to the advantage of personal Destiny and Wyrd, and to confront and resolve those qualities within character which are detrimental.


Adhering to this description reveals insight roles to be much more varied than originally envisioned. One such variation, which is anything but outwardly profound, would be taking on the role of a farmhand. To someone who is experienced in manual labour this role would be unsuitable; however, to someone who is an intellectual, it would be most suitable. This is because the unveiled purpose of an insight role is to achieve equilibrium within the individual by throwing them into a way of life that is unorthodox, uncomfortable and offensive to their default sensibilities in order to confront and reconcile.


It is this unorthodoxy, this uncomfortableness, this offensiveness, that ensures the individual will experience an adversity which is unique to them, producing a learning from that adversity which is also unique to them. This results in the principium individuationis of the agent undertaking the insight role upon completion of it.


Returning to the farmhand example: the intellectual would have their detrimental qualities harshly ‘confronted’ by way of blistered and bloodied hands. If they struggled through the discomfort and pain they would experience a separation of the former and becoming self, assuming something of a superposition between the two. If, at that moment, they decided to cease the insight role, the former self would collapse back into reality. Conversely, if they pressed on for a while longer, their skin would harden, callouses would develop, eventually collapsing both the former and newly dis-covered self into reality to produce insight.


This is one of various examples that can be given if the concept and application of the insight role is allowed to grow beyond its parameters of politics, criminality and religiosity that we ourselves have maintained. Thus, it can be stated that as iconoclasts, it is time we tore down this particular wall and introduced the Aosoth Rites to smash to pieces the limitations of the former.


The road to Hel is paved with good intentions.

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Beyond Diametrics

Extremism, of act and thought – contextually defined as harshness, is something that has come to singularly define the Dark Tradition, somewhat dishonestly. We would be remiss if we were to outright state that the Tradition is not harsh, because it is – demonstrably so for those associates who have Aeonic perspective and act in accord with it – but such a masculous expression does not define our exeatic mystic tradition. The Extremism was an iteration, a stage, in an arduous and treacherous path to stand before the Swan that now swims along our third river.


When the Abyss is crossed it is only done so because the muliebral has been given equivocal representation within. Man cannot make it over the line, nor can woman; they must cross the threshold together, or be devoured by Νάρκισσος.


This kollective call thus goes out to all who have the Red Light currently in their window: embrace dianetics, and bloody-well do it properly! Allow your opposites to coalesce by letting the right ones into your shadow to discover the Gaia aspect of your φύσις.


You may think that because of your role and the moves you have played thus far, that we are beyond the means to exculpate.


You may ask the question: “what if they do not understand and react in a hostile manner?” But you know us better than that, and you know the answer to that kollective kwestion – our Aeonic struggle is legion.


Remember, lightning can strike twice, and live on as fulgurite for Aeons should the conditions be perfect and proper care be taken to preserve.


The candle remains alight, -0-. Return to where you belong.


– Theo Hiraeth
42nd Summer

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The Forge of Doubt

The current trend in Western culture is one that raises up individuality and uniqueness. It seems like everyone is chasing attractiveness and status. There are millions and millions of would-be social influencers. As stand alone statements or even when considering them together as a whole concept, these are things that should be applauded and encouraged. Yet, I can’t help but make note of the lack of consistency and the obvious facades.

A close friend of mine, regularly points to this phenomenon and scowls at it. He’s right to do so. The only flaw that I can find in his analysis, isn’t really an argument against his disgust. You see, I agree with him that the internet is where people go to pretend to be anyone they want. The flaw is that he has limited the scope of his judgement too narrowly. Turns out people are fraudulent by-in-large.

This is not to say, that there aren’t genuine people. I think some genuine people can at times, find themselves being disingenuous. This isn’t really any shocking new observation. However, this is a form of corruption. A corruption that seems to seep deeper and deeper into the collective consciousness. It is not anything new or novel that this “fakeness” is prevalent in the masses. We’ve simply added a few new layers on top of it.

When I consider this in contrast, I’m not surprised to find this rampantly existing, even in self-professed satanists. The internet removes a layer of accountability. Accountability is an idea that has long been eroding and rotting. Anton LaVey was writing about it in the 60’s. Accountability is often framed to be “an owning of your wrong doing”, but that doesn’t really seem to encompass its proper apprehension. What is really being put forth is, an honesty to self. A personal sincerity, void of delusions without intention.

When I was young, I often pondered the stark consistency of LaVey’s philosophy and his character. Old Howie’s detractors often point to all of LaVey’s lavish deceptions. From plagiarism to the embellished and sometimes completely fictitious stories of his past. Certainly there’s no accountability, right? I have to disagree. I find it completely consistent.

A man with a fake name. Telling embellished or possibly false stories. Pushing a meant-to-be sensational “religion” of the secular and rebellious. Charging a membership fee for a “church” against all churches. All while grifting the grifters. Watching those old videos of ritual and ceremony and even the many television interviews, there can be seen a twinkle in the corner of his eye. After all, the devil is a gentlemen, in the words of Shakespeare.

You can see it, simply by observing. There’s a consistency in him. A playful deviance, if you will. A harmony between word and deed. Should he be a liar, then let his lies be bold and outlandish. We then find an inner-resonance of self honesty to balance against it. With the mind of Lucifer, a carefully crafted deception was made to inspire doubt.

LaVey was a proponent of doubt as being paramount to truth. Doubt, the emancipator of minds, bearing the sword of unbridled wisdom. If this is a war for the eternal souls of men, then doubt is the great equalizer. A great many will ask themselves, “Is this a hill worth dying on”.

We are left in contemplation. Are we pretending or is this truly who we are. Is there a consistency between our words and deeds? We realize that, no matter how fortified the castle is; if it’s built on a mountain of sand, it takes but a wave to wash it from the shore.

Live Deliberately!

-Dread Beast Xeno

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A Gift for the Abyss

The quickening silence onset in the dank hours of midsummer’s heat, then before dawn. A single arm slipped through the black plush comforter, and sought out the unblemished curvatures of the disrobed counterparts with surgically executed barbarism of the erotic intent. Contact fell and coursed like electric; the exchange of subatoms, energy and soul. Then in the rising of the new planetary dominions, William exercised with due diligence his properly enveloped husbandry in overtures of ancient ardor. Therewith, beyond the firmament even those fell messengers which stood watch over his ancestral rural abode were galvanized with fire and enthusiasm by the efforts of he, their fleshbody symbiont.

Waves of dark celestial choruses — persecutive daughters of the dread queen, the Mother of Blood, incised their lips and tongues with fervor as they caressed their dead white skins bound to the extradimension in sapphic embrace. The savagery emblazoned upon those formless intelligences: apprehended by perspectives that bloom from the development of abyssal being, alone. Their pressings pushed furiously upon their muliebribus, on this morning of soft tortures and umbral delights. The air was bloodthirsty, and saturated with rancor, pulled in with all senses of an dark empassioning, envenomed, and offered before an opening of the acausal continuum where that aweful deyonne — the Mother of Blood — waits beyond the mirror’s pane. Many preternatural rains dove then downward: reanimating, compounding, folding, hammering… priming the beautiful felony of an harvest unforgivable, as red candle wax and elixir would flicker between the shadow play of the maligned triptych.

An ocean away, in England, near the boarder of Wales where Arthurian shades still haunt, fissures grew rapidly in the crystalline pyramids that decorated a long since used edifice, hemorrhaging a physical, and yet supernatural exsanguination. Rivulets of vermillion sheen crawled downward the helix design, ebbing in cadence with his pulse, now irregulated by the increasing limitations of his mortal coil’s ever-creeping conclusion. The lonely man, now devoid of even the most infinitesimal capture of significance watched the phenomenon unfold, and with violent onsetting fluxions of clairvoyant-knowing as the omen was understood — or so he thought. For, this was no such message from those who have risen beyond the gate of Saturn. No, this was but a mirage; a contrivance. Sent, not as a work of theatrics, but a sword… or perhaps a cloak and dagger.

Then from the upper cabinet in his kitchenette, the lonely man fingered a small phial of fast acting toxin to then morbidly, and yet, welcomingly, descend the wooden cellar staircase, to which the final darkness called, and this, was no mere contrivance. For there he would consign, as he would dream in waking life, to the oblivion that waited him, patiently, across the span of many decades redolent of multifarious adventures. The edge of the deeps that his descent neared: a mouth of Hell — a hostile pandaemonium, more real and existent for him than any other mortal prior. As so many souls did he guide directly into its chasm; and so many also to its edges, that would never return, for his seduction lingered even in his own absence. Now it, and they who populate its infernal habitation, wanted him as a final, great reward. No expiation remained. Only this last rite of nihilation, by his own hand, and not therefore, by the cruel unfolding of nature. Little did he realize that this dubersome snare had been strewn for quite some time by a vast, complex network of minds, and was swiftly nearing its apocryphal moment.

They couldn’t be any more different if they tried, William and the lonely man. If you were to prick him, William that is, he would have bled the blood the Dark Way, the sigils of its signature, its sacrificial cadence to non-euclidean entities, and for that matter, bled the blood of the Horrible Dragon that now inhabited his earthbound vessel — such things born from transformation into states far beyond human tantamount to dark sorcery; in tandem with deeds of true evil, as that term is commonly understood, manifold in form, continued and continuing in the real world. He did not follow the babblings of the lonely man’s students, whimsically and arbitrarily cycling into random factoid prisms that often have no practical application beyond the pale of fanciful mythoi of which they constantly claimed to have succeeded, notwithstanding their occult baboonery from which a constant sense of self-entitlement therefrom was derived. Nor did he seek their counsel in latter days as celibate oxonians with their perseverations on the purity of esoteric manual-of-form; their confabulations often self contained and coursing with the stink of sycophancy. No, William developed, and learned, and strived in secret, sometimes across the globe, and learned that which one learns in how to instigate permanent changes in consciousness, at the personal level.

And the lonely man? Just a Maniac-Mage, who had long since lost his esoteric empathy, somewhere in the mix of his own reindeer games.

In an unoccupied room within his home, that he shared with his two polyamorous companions, several items had been stored in the afforded space within. Relics smuggled from the Green Damask Room by an unofficial collaborator, as the lonely man had nurtured many an enmity over years of corruption, infighting and shameless self-promotion under a thousand different names. Soil and stones from Black Rhadley, Caer Caradoc, and Wenlock Edge transported overseas, and water bottles filled with the Long Mynd, as well as the river Severn. There were shavings of metal obtained from Post office box #4 in Church Stretton, as well as those from box #700 in Shrewsbury.

Using the skillsets that had once been cultivated, in the beginning, from the lonely man — the Maniac Mage — but then in time, refined and perfected across a willfully striven and individual anados, William sat then cross legged before the affections obtained. The matrix of his being calibrated in sympathetic contact to the defiance of Newtonian physics and a limited space-time dimension. He needed no incantations, no holy names of god or gods, or Satan for that matter, or planetary forces. There where no prayers, or even words that were spoken, only the astral patterning across the web of Wyrd. William at no point fed off of the lonely man. Rather, he fed his own life-force into the cosmic dimension, deconstructing time, and rendering no space between himself and the target of his esoteric emotional operation.

They meant nothing to William: the words, the motions, the correspondences and the incantations. They were only but a means — in the beginning — of a science to be overcome, and wholly intending to self-destruct the primitive mind of the novitiate physis. Much as the ONA itself was always meant to self-destruct in the year 2020eh/ev, as foretold by the classic document Sacramentum Sinistrum. And yet it persisted, for reasons unknown. That its lifeless husk remained — a quandary unanswerable. William’s understanding was that the truth behind the Dark Path, was that, it could merge with anything — a perfect mergence — or merge with nothing at all, remaining nameless therein.

William felt the footfalls upon the sawed stairs undertaken by the Maniac-Mage, as he saw with his own eyes the omen which was projected into his mind, only minutes before. When then he stood in the centre of the pitch black stone cellar, a tomb fit for a lord of this world, the lonely man lifted the phial to his face and examined it. He removed the cork and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of lifetimes stacked upon one another — the loss, the memory, the joy, and all that goes along with the rush that accompanies a sordid recalling and added regret when to dispatch oneself is finalized.

Both William and the Maniac-Mage spoke out loud, joined in darkness.

“To kill a king…” they both said. At which the lonely man lifted and drank the substance into his body. Tears streamed from the eyes of the man, and William’s eyes wept blood, as they both collapsed onto the floor in their respective localities. The man and William convulsed in unison, then into fetal position, and then to soon expire, or at least one of them. At that moment across Terra Firma, twelve individuals fell to the floor, or awoke screaming and fell, ensorrowed for what could only be intuited and not truly known.

But the most cold-hearted and cold warrior machination was embodied and lived by Claire, who was of Amerindian stock, complete with William’s three miscegenated childer, all of a blended, native breed to their home of millennia that reached further back than human memory could assure. When she had traveled to meet with Scotland Yard on official business, the plan had remained ‘open,’ as was discussed and agreed upon prior. That she was to deliver an exercise in fellatio of unforgettable make-and-model to the detective chief superintendent was something that simply fell into place, hair double-braided and exotic as a Pocahontas of the most corrupt professionalism. His no-scalpel vasectomy procedure exempted her from the zygote infused sacrificial conclusion, but her esophagus was sprayed, with wanton accreditation, for a sexual favor most perfectly executed.

With papers signed, a reason cooked up never to be questioned under the critical mass of threatened termination, and the ghastly exhumation occurred. Her skull, being that of the lonely man’s dead lover, replaced with a cheap pewter fabrication purloined from an American vendor, free of charge; credit from a previous blunder honoured. A type of old-world necromancy was in the works, to conclude the epilogos that, even now, begged to be complete. For her death signified his ultimate failure as a human being. Perhaps his attempt at expiation occurred in the maximizing of his earthbound days: with his heart tortured daily and nightly by reflexions upon that burden which surelye cost him his very soul.

Claire entered the room wearing the skull now sawed and threeded to be worn as a mask. In fact, the skull was all that Claire wore, being of a buxom, well endowed hourglass figure. Her distribution of fat cells seemed to hone in, like a heat seeking missile, on those sex organs that stoke the élan vital of the male species. Like a figure from mythology, enskulled and sexually disproportionate, Claire sauntered before the collapsed but rising body of William, arms raised in horror, reflective of the desolate vacuum that was his spiritual essence, now populated by evil spirits in great number sealed into the flesh.

In England, the lonely, dying Mage saw his former lover, or what he believed was her, arrive, dancing around his fading light. She wove between, with her dance, several Dark Ones, who stood watch before the felling, some of which he knew in his life — and some of which he did not. For only some of the dark forces had been cataloged, by him, and by others. Whom he thought was his dead lover’s revenant shade, but truly Claire projecting the necrotic form into his psyche, attached her swaying movements to a particular inter-dimensional being. In the world of the phainomenon, this was William, now broken of one sympathetic contact, and onto the next, wearing a butterfly mask. The custom piece of taxidermy was made of once living fragments of hipparchia semele, known in the United Kingdom as graylings, that which employ a technique known as cryptic coloring: a manner of disguise.

Her derrière fell with violence upon his pelvic region in lustful, circular, backwards thrusts. The lonely man then watched as Noctulius— Lord of Night— entered into her bowels with ascendant sexual hunger. She was taken by him through the forbidden orifice, porta infame, and ravaged with pure animality. Her juttings were accompanied by facial expressions of anguish, fear, and terror untold. Her cries were those of submission — to that of a higher man, a young Lion. The lonely man died, with this, and all that accompanies these visions, as his final constituents, sealing then his eternity into resigned nullification, as Noctulius —Lord of Night— filled his ghostly lover’s cavity with his amaranthine essence.

He died, and died again, or so it seemed — and so it was — for the Nightmares woven this morning were vile and atomizing as befits the reception of a theoretician of terror. For like kind must meet with like kind, in great leagues above all known capacity and expectation. An evil so vast in possibility — an limitless, total evil, unvarnished and unadulterated — the only measure that could be justified in one’s dealings with the Maniac-Mage, and all who are of his ilk.

Some time later in New Jerusalem, Pennsylvania, William and Claire sat closely at their dining room table, playfully stroking limbs beneath the structure against one another. They exchanged glances of mirth and penetrative gazes of deeper meaning. The flutters of eyelashes and whispers that rained glory upon one another came in droves, crossing and colliding both ways. There were plates of meats and glasses of milks set before them, as they proffered then slivers of predatory restriction into each other. Bodies that were in a constant state of ketosis, physically nourishing the thirsty nightsky on a consistent basis, which veiled those lurkers upon the evil tree, basking in the undying flame of the here and now.

Dark and crimson spheres pulsated with life-force. Ghostly shadows unveiled. The seeds of astral tides propitiated, as foretold in elder tomes of antiquity, towards purposes once initiated remain unchanged. A species that would be builded into the real world, capable of breathing her fiery breath into forges that produce principles of iron belief. Kings and Queens who, as terrible lawmakers of preëval lineage, sworn to uncompromising stricture, claw, even now, at the fabric that separates you from the woeful and approaching eventuality.

From the dark recesses of an antechamber, Phaedra flung face first into Claire’s nestled cleft with unbridled berserker rage. The brood of Mactoron howled like jackals before the desert moon, drunk on the blood of an aeonic opfer, and Sodom’s devils rose from an eternity of ruin to rub the dust from their eyes. Blasphemy enthroned, they three drank of the flesh unrestricted; pagan and extramarital in extremis. An heresy unchallenged in propriété privée, voices outstretch in perversion. Nocturnal turgesence traversed backwards and forwards in slick repetition, engorged with the confidence and character that is welcomed into the vulvas myriad which the open expression of desire brings into being, liberated fully from external compunctions.

Phaedra panted as Willam took her deeply — the fullest and deepest ever to be, but her cries would fall upon the deaf winds, as Claire shoved her darling face into the carnage of her yearning cunt. Hot and live seminal fluid blasted Phaedra’s ovaries, once more miscegenating the body of non-Aryan woman.

Anwynn Edgar Thorn

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