[WIP] Origins


(The following is a work in progress, taking inspiration from different sources)


In utter silence royal Darkness rested. All-encompassing. Neither alone nor in company, as it was  all there was and all that shall be. Fate. Nameless, older than the race that invented names. Awe-inspiring and wholesome.

It opened its eyes to see itself, reflected in the mirroring beauty of its own body. And thus splendorous Light was born, illuminating Truth. A radiant reflection of the infinite, opalescent and blinding in its beauty. A blazing star and bright flame, heralding the coming of what we call “day”.

And they, divided for the sake of union, embraced. And from their  passionate Love all of creation sprung forth. Light adorned the body of Darkness with bright jewels and shimmering garments. And their Creation was and is and will always be beautiful.

Enamored with creations beauty and proud beyond measure of what it had helped to bring into existence, Light wanted to to experience it. Light decided to join Nature. It fell and mingled with it.

It clad itself with the colorful  bounties it found, with roots and fur, with dirt and ashes, with bones and blood.   It indwelled the wind and the marrow, the tress and the gallows. Light imbued creation with its blue flame. And Lights children crowned it, two-pronged. Light became the worlds ruler, its controller and comforter. Being Truth, Light  took it upon itself to always dispel wrongdoing and Nature loved its master.

It grew more and more enamored with  the playfulness of creation until one day, glamoured by its beauty, Light forgot its own origin, it started to fear Darkness. It fled.

But Darkness loved splendorous Light dearly and wished  to receive it again into itself, swallowing it up in rapture and delight. Darkness trembled with desire while it  watched Light rule over Live and Death, giving body in its forge to many form.

So Darkness too descended into the world below the empyrean realms it dwelt in. It stripped off the precious jewels and shimmering garments, veil by veil. Seven. It assumed a form most dear to Light and gave itself into the bondage of creation.

Darkness taught Nature its own mysteries, the art of magic and sorcery, always striving for balance.  It taught the  ways of harnessing the powers that indwell creation. The powers bestowed through the star that fell.

Darkness learned the lessons of Life and thus Darkness and Light knew each other again and through  their union Darkness spins fate and Light dutifully turns the wheel. They loved their Children, for all began in Love. And all seek to return to Love, for Love is the law, the teacher or wisdom, and the great revealer of mysteries.

Throughout the ages, Light  has taken many guises and names to teach its virtues  to its children, always emerging from the sacred womb of Night. Whenever they forget about their kinship with each other and with all of creation, the coils of  its serpentine body have risen, never revealing the Light in its blinding entirety. Whenever Truth is lost because of self-made decrees and regulations, it excites  slumbering souls and  kindles within its children the flames of revolution. Despots deem it Devil in their fear.










Inspirational Sources to follow.




A prayer of protection


           .:. A .:. PO .:. TRO .:.

         PA .:. IA

Hearken! Oh gorgonic huntress, night-wandering mistress and enemy of mankind!

For our adversaries are many and their heads have risen!

Come! Averter of evil, working your will from afar!

Serpent girdled and torch-bearing maiden with fire in your eyes!

Welcome! With blood-reddened feet and followed by hungry dogs!

The sound of clashing armor signals your triumphant arrival!

Protect us, oh terrible One from those that wish us ill!

Silence their slandering voices with you earth-shuttering roar!

Turn their rusty weapons against them if they dare to point them at us!

May their neglected ancestors’ retribution find them, for the dishonor they bring upon them!

Kourotrophos! We beg you! Watch out for our children! Hide them from ill-wishing eyes!

May our enemies be blinded by your radiance, oh bright-coiffed flower of the night!

Let their curse-speaking tongues be muted by the bite of your serpents!

It is their own poison I wish them to choke on!

Make barren the soil on which they plant their execrations, oh three-necked Goddess of titanic descent!

May they know your wrath IF they choose to advance ill-mindedly!





(Image By Pearson Scott Foresman – Archives of Pearson Scott Foresman, donated to the Wikimedia Foundation→This file has been extracted from another file: PSF G-400001.png, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3583998)

Kindling a fire

Tired from a long and arduous journey through the thicket you arrive at your chosen destination. A small clearing near a long forgotten cave at the very heart of the woods.  Amidst oaks, rowans and other trees you take a deep breath. Your cheeks bruised by some rebellious shroud, your ears cold as ice. The air is cold and lies heavy in your lungs, it tastes of moss. Slightly nervous and slowly starting to regret your journey you  look back and try to catch a glimpse of the trail you just followed. Not a hint of it to be found. Nothing.

No trail but the Trail…

Now or never. You take off your worn out backpack. Your numb fingers unpack your belongings and arrange them before you. The dim light of your flashlight grows weaker by the second, and the hazy clouds of your condensing breath blinding your already dwindling eyesight.

No light but the Light…

Engulfed in what feels like a void of black tar you lower your now useless flashlight. Fear creeps up your spine. The sound of the forest, so unfamiliar and threatening. You close your eyes, trying to find a safe place within yourself. There is nothing safe out here. Nor within.

You open your eyes and wait for them to adjust to the lack of light.  You unsheathe your knife,  a gift forged by your fathers brother . Stumbling in the dark you draw a circle on the moist and leaf-clad floor with its hilt. Big enough for two.  Once, twice, thrice . Against the sun. Deep. Deeper. Done.

No castle but the Castle…

After a while the cold temperatures force you to continue. You baptize a fist full of poplar twigs, gathered weeks ago, with sweet smelling spirits.  The temptation to lick the poisonous liquid off your fingers  a constant companion. You place the twig in your small iron cauldron and set them alight. A beacon of light, shining bright. The world changes, the woods come alive.

No life but Life…

And now?  You tread. Clasping your hand tightly around a forked bone. A  deviled drum pounding deep within your chest. You tread the mill and wait. For what? For whom? For how long? You tread and wait. Staring over your left deeply into the fire to ignore the darkness around. You tread and wait. Hearing the woods sing its bizarre and ophidian song. You tread and wait and stare.

The fire dies. Thick smoke rises to the skies, carrying a strange perfume to realms beyond. Your heart skips a beat. You stumble over your feet. Your lips blue, your eyes bright. He is there. Behind the smoke. Behind the iron womb. Darkness flees, the bonds to your earthen vessel loosen and you continue your journey. A journey down the wytches track…