For The Neophyte
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Hello, child.

I am called Lore, and I am known among a select few initiates in the way of Theune1 as the Lunatic.

I tell you this, because this writing has found you, somehow, amongst a strange and chaotic universe, and because I know why it has found you.

You seek, to some degree, the truth, or perhaps even The Truth, if my assumptions may dare to be so grandiose. Maybe you have even already found enlightenment, and are at once watching me pen this message to the universe and reading it through the eyes of an unknown confidant that I will never have the pleasure of meeting. If so, hello! Did I get it right? Does the Garden truly Sing?

But for those of you who still are bound by flesh or something less mundane, I can assuredly tell you that your Truth remains, to some degree elusive.

And I am here to tell you that that is how it has always been supposed to be.

Nothing is Absolute Truth, and Everything is Possible

That, young Neophyte2, is why this message has found you, because with sheer force of will, everything is possible.

Even the making of Gods. Well, gods, at the very least.


It was a cold day in February when I Called, the equations of the Octavo (The Creation of one Peter J. Carroll, and those who helped him) ringing in my ears. I had before Found gods, but never yet had molded one from the matter of the universe. Though I may wish to claim Heresi, both of us know that he found me first.

I had written a Calling, and a Hymn, but both had been left behind when I Made them, largely because I had at first had wanted to wait until Beltane.

But that day in the Grove, I had no wand nor sword, and no offering save for my own flesh and soul.

I kneeled, in some strange mockery of what I had done full of a very different faith as a child, and what I now did as a tribute to people long dead, and I prayed to the god that does not die.

And I Made them so.

A god of not the choice of the crossroads, but the dream of them. A god of the magic of the earth, and The Magic of the Beginning and The End. A god of the yearning to Know, and the realization of Absurdity. A sham of a God, and a perverted hope to create meaning in a universe that had none.

And it worked.

They answered.

It was euphoria. I could feel the world spin wildly and I could see the dead stars and the smell of long dead flora made the air clean and sweet. I could hear songs that in this life would never be sung again, and I could, for a moment, comprehend the fullness of life and the universe.

And then it stopped, and I stared at something that should never be seen by the mortal mind.

They smiled, or did something close. “You are strange

I smiled back “Everything is

They simply nodded.

And then they left.


I tell you this, because there is more to know. An assurance that yet more remains unseen. Even the Unknown can be found, if only you search

Read the old books, read the new books. Learn magic in whichever form it finds you. Know the universe the way it knows you: infinitely vast and strange.

I am very much the Lunatic in the Orwellian sense, but perhaps, someday, I will not be the minority of one.

Maybe you will join me in my haphazard hunt for little truths.

Or maybe you will lead your own.

But remember, little Neophyte, that no Absolute Truth exists, merely because even the simplest of creatures have a way of surprising the universe.

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