filius philosophorum

On the heels of one firebrand came another.

I met the alchemist Aden Brande last night. Wrapped in layers of demons like Legion, but his was possession reversed: devils compelled to lend their power, not man compelled to surrender his flesh. He struggles on a hairline balance, and the merest shift of chance could spell his ruin everlasting, and like me, his name might be erased forever from the Book of Life. Or worse.

I shook his hand, and he mended mine. Imagine, Fulcanelli, an alchemist who might have even surpassed you.

He is inscrutable. But my eyes see everything. Hide, hide, but I’ll see. Give it time.

And while we wait, while we dance, I have a brother in arms. I’ll watch, lest man become tyrant become God. And if he reaches too high, I’ll cut him down before I crush his corpse beneath my heel to climb another link and reach Father. But let him find what he seeks, what he burns for. In a just universe, he’ll possess bliss, and I’ll possess freedom.

While it’s unjust, let us smash it, let us break it, burn it down, and raise a new kingdom from its ashes.