Rebel Witch Quotes

If this was weakness, he wanted to be weak. If this was sin, let him be damned to hell.

...I do have to wonder what sort of childhood the Grimm brothers endured. They are not a merry bunch of storytellers, what with their children roasted by witches, maidens poisoned by old crones, and whatnot.

Live in the darkness too long, and eventually you won't recognize the light. You'll become like the monsters you hate.

I may not know Rune Winters, but I know the Crimson Moth. And she is no caged thing.

You are far worse than a thorn in my side,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming at her. “You are a knife in my heart.

It might look like weakness on the surface. But in truth, it’s tougher than steel. Love can’t be controlled. Love can’t obey unjust laws. Love will always oppose tyrants.

It's been a honor, Captain," she whispered against his lips. Gideon let out a soft cry, but he didn't fail her. Pulling the trigger, he sent a bullet straight into her heart.

She was the Crimson Moth. A rebel witch.

The problem with love is the more you try to destroy it, the stronger it becomes. It might look like weakness on the surface. But in truth, it's tougher than steel. Love can't be controlled. Love can't obey unjust laws. Love will always oppose tyrants. Love is the real enemy of the regime, and that's why you despite it. It's why Cressida tries to crush it. Because you both know, deep down, it has the power to topple you.

Did a person change depending on their circumstances? Or was there something permanent about everyone? Something steadfast and true, despite their circumstances?

Whether you’re Veritas the Law Guardian, Ariel the vampire-witch, or Death’s scary demigod daughter. Doesn’t matter. In all your forms, in every manifestation of yourself, I love you.

Even in death, my love, you are a wonder.

My name is Wisdom." Her voice rang like a drawn blade. "And I've waited a long time for this.

Sometimes our paths must diverge from those we love,” Antonio said as they rode, side by side, scanning the surrounding mountains. “But if love is the highest power, our paths will converge again—if not in this world, then the next.

You want the truth?” Her own hurt bubbled up, like steam from a volcano ready to erupt. “This is the truth: I would have married you in a heartbeat, had you asked me. I would have married you knowing you would hand me over to my killers—or kill me yourself—the moment you found out what I was. That’s how pathetic I am, Gideon! That’s how desperately I wanted to be yours!

Pride rebelled. Common sense would have rebelled, but common sense was whimpering under a bed somewhere and refused to come out.

That is my hope for you, dear reader. It’s the same hope I had for Rune at the beginning of her story. (And for myself, in a way.) I hope you stop caring so much about the opinions of others and allow yourself to live. I hope you find the courage to be unapologetically yourself and start making your life—and maybe even the world—what you and the ones you love need it to be.

If love was truly infinite, I reasoned, perhaps our capacity for it should be infinite, too.

Pressing a hand to Gideon's heart, Rune whispered: "Come find me in the next world." And then Death found her.

At least she likes it when I touch her.

Of all the boys in the world, why did she have to fall in love with the one who could never, ever love her back?

His eyes blackened. “Who did this to you?

I think someone broke her." "Ah, anything else?" "I'm afraid I won't be able to put her back together." "You can't put her back together. Only she can do that.

...God sent His Prince, Jesus, into rebel territory to conquer evil and free us to be true citizens of the Kingdom again... That’s the essential story we find in the Bible, and it’s the essential story at the heart of each of our lives. And that’s what all good fantasy stories have at their core, whether or not it’s a conscious theme.

I would have married you in a heartbeat, had you asked me. That’s how desperately I wanted to be yours. He thought of Rune in the steam, eyes bright, face flushed, hair coming undone. He’d wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her. To tell her with his mouth and hands what he couldn’t say with his words.

Because I was stupid enough to fall in love with a witch hunter. Stupid enough to hope he might love me back. And if he did, I wasn't going to let anything come between us again.

Somewhere beneath the fear was the girl he loved. A girl who stared down danger with a smile and a knife. His brave, clever Crimson Moth.

She'd forgotten the thrill of it. How it made her feel untouchable. Invincible. I am the Crimson Moth. It was the answer to her oldest question. You are the kindest, cleverest, bravest girl I've ever met. This was Rune Winters. This girl. In this moment.

We are the daughters of the witches you could not burn.

It was a world where enemies could be not just allies, but lovers and friends, and most of all, equals. It was a world where no one needed to hide who they really were.

I know the Crimson Moth. And she is no caged thing.

[W]omen were those most likely to be victimized because they were the most 'disempowered' by these changes, especially older women, who often rebelled against their impoverishment and social exclusion and who consituted the bulk of the accused. In other words, women were charged with witchcraft because the restructuring of rural Europe at the dawn of capitalism destroyed their means of livelihood and the basis of their social poer, leaving them with no resort but dependence on the charity of the better-off at a time when communal bonds were disintegrating and a new morality was taking hold that criminalized begging and looked down upon charity, the reputed path to eternal salvation in the medieval world.

I hope you stop caring so much about the opinions of others and allow yourself to live. I hope you find the courage to be unapologetically yourself and start making your life—and maybe even the world—what you and the ones you love need it to be.

Of course he was tempted. A life with Rune? It was worth everything. Which was precisely why he needed to stay and fight. This was where they both belonged. He wanted to save it-for her, for them, more than anyone. Anything less, and he would never be the man she deserved.

Go where you will, but if I were you, I’d head north, and stick to the forest. Stay out of the mountains. Keep going until you hit Terrasen.” That had never been part of the plan. “But—but the king—Vernon—” “The King of Adarlan is dead,” Manon said. The world stopped. “Aelin Galathynius killed him and shattered his glass castle.” Elide covered her mouth with a hand, shaking her head. Aelin … Aelin … “She was aided,” Manon went on, “by Prince Aedion Ashryver.” Elide began sobbing. “And rumor has it Lord Ren Allsbrook is working in the North as a rebel.” Elide buried her face in her hands. Then there was a hard, iron-tipped hand on her shoulder. A tentative touch. “Hope,” Manon said quietly. Elide lowered her hands and found the witch smiling at her. Barely a tilt to her lips, but—a smile, soft and lovely. Elide wondered if Manon even knew she was doing it.

If you keep insisting on collecting boyfriends,” he teased, “we’re going to have to start wearing name tags.

People who loved you didn’t plot to betray you.

We both know what you want to do to me, Gideon. Well, here’s your chance.” His gaze slid to her mouth. “You have no idea, the things I want to do to you.

Not to mention, engaged to Alex. Alex. “My brother is dead because of you.” She turned to face him, and Gideon couldn’t help himself. His gaze raked down the vicious

These days, my only requirement for suitors is that they don’t want me dead. Most people would call those low expectations.

What were you dreaming about last night?” His voice was low, near her ear. “When you called out for me.

She closed her eyes, saying a silent goodbye to him and to the life they might have had together. Saying goodbye to those three joyful children she’d never get to meet.

the world we want to forge already exists.

Will you miss me, Crimson Moth?

How dare he be kind on the eve of his betrayal.

It’s been an honor, Captain,” she whispered against his lips.

TRUE LOVE’S CURSE is an Arcana spell. It prevents a victim from being with his true love by inflicting pain whenever he touches her skin to skin.

Why would you lie to me?” Gideon remembered Rune’s knife pressed to his throat. Remembered the tears in her eyes as she fled. Because I love her.

Lifting the gun to Soren’s head, Rune fired.

Rune was the missing heir.

But the thing I can’t forgive, the thing I will never understand, is how you could make me fall for you when all along you were in love with my brother.

What the hell do you think you’re doing with my wife?

love built on deception, no matter how pure the intention, was no better than a paper boat set upon a stormy sea. It might float for a time, but in the end, it would only disintegrate.

Rune ran her hands along the Aria’s polished wood, thinking of Alex. How he was saving her once again. She glanced at the stars, sending out a silent thank-you, wondering if it could reach him beyond the grave.

RUNE WAS RIGHT ABOUT one thing: she wasn’t just a girl. Not to him. She was so much more than that. Rune was a sparring partner. Someone to fight with, and admire. Someone to match. Rune was a force. One Gideon could barely keep up with.

This is the truth: I would have married you in a heartbeat, had you asked me. I would have married you knowing you would hand me over to my killers—or kill me yourself—the moment you found out what I was. That’s how pathetic I am, Gideon! That’s how desperately I wanted to be yours!

Dirk, this is Peace, Granola, Crystal, Chi, Aura, Tahini, and the twins, Yin and Yang," Duck said. ... "They had all of us one right after the other. Me while they were into the total surf scene when they lived in Malibu, Peace and Granola during their hippie-rebel phase, and then they got more into Eastern philosophy-you know, the twins Yin and Yang.

I want you to look in the mirror tonight before you go to bed. Take a good look. Truly see that woman looking back at you. Memorize the color of her eyes, the shape of her face, the sound of her laughter. When things get dark out there, when things are at their most hopeless and bleak, know that whatever demons we face, whatever bombs are dropped at our feet, whatever evil befalls us tonight or tomorrow or ten years from now, that woman is always worth fighting for.

Five actors playing allotted parts on a set stage; and now he, for whom no part had been written, had walked onto the stage unexpectedly, because one of the players had turned rebel, as she had once before. He threw everything out of focus, and them into a fever. The heat and intensity of these flying questions was enough to make a man with even partially trained clairvoyant faculties feel as if he sat in a room filled with flashing fireflies. He took warning and withdrew himself to a cold inner isolation, as he knew how to do, even while laughing and talking with surface ease. It would not do to let his mind become clouded with emotion; or open any door of his imagination. But the impressions that came across that safer inner distance did not make his companions seem less dramatic, more normal: they were still out of focus. Something about the picture was distorted, even to a clear vision. The sense of evil was as strong as ever although the lurking Presence seemed to have retreated into a far background. He saw presently what the distortion was. Their modern figures were somehow incongruous in the old house, not at home. Like actors who had somehow got onto the wrong stage, onto sets with which their voices and costumes clashed. Interlopers. Or else-actors of an old school dressed up in an unbecoming masquerade. Witch House was an old house. Not old as other houses are old, that remain beds of the continuous stream of life, of marriages and births and deaths, of children crying and children laughing, where the past is only part of the pattern, root of the present and the future. Joseph de Quincy, dead nearly a quarter of a thousand years, was still its master: he had been strong, so strong that no later personality could dim or efface him here where he had set his seal. "He left his evil here when he could no longer stay himself," Carew thought. "As a man with diphtheria leaves germs on the things he has handled, the bed he has lain in. Thoughts are tangible things; on their own plane they breed like germs and, unlike germs, they do not die. He may have forgotten; he may even walk the earth in other flesh, but what he has left here lives." As probably it had been meant to do. For the man whose malignance, swollen with the contributions of the centuries, still ensouled these walls would not have cared to build a house or found a family except as a means to an end. Witch House was set like a mold, steeped in ritual atmosphere as a temple. Dangerous business, for who could say that such a temple would not find a god? There are low, non-human beings that coalesce with and feed on such leftover forces: lair in them.

Eventually the girl-child will turn away from the Spirit-filled One. Her original spirituality will become confined within the acceptable lines of religion. She will be taught the right way to imagine and name god. “He” will be mediated to her through words, images, stories, and myths shaped, written, and spoken by men. She will adopt the god she is given. It is too dangerous to rebel. If she dares to venture out of the lines by communing with the spirit of a tree, the mysterious night sky, or her grandma, she will be labeled heretic, backslide, or witch. She is told: Prideful One, your grandma is not god; neither is your favorite star or rock. God has only one name and face. You shall have no gods before him. God is Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. He is found in the church, heavens, and holy book, not in you. God is the god of the fathers and sons; the daughters have no say in the matter. As it was in the beginning, it is now and ever shall be. The Spirit-Filled One falls asleep. Occasionally she awakens to remind the girl-child-turned-woman of what she once knew. These periodic reminders are painful. The woman fills her life with distractions so she will not hear the quiet inner voice, calling her to return home. Years later, new teachers enter the woman's life—a therapist, a self-help group, a support circle, a beloved friend, or perhaps this workbook. They remind her of what she once knew: Spirit-filled One, your grandma is god and so are your favorite star and rock. God has many names and many faces. God is Mother, Daughter, and Wise Old Crone. She is found in your mothers, in your daughters, and in you. She is Mother of all Living and blessed are her daughters. You are girl-woman made in her image. The spirit of the universe pulsates through you.

Now this might sound strange to you, Serafina Pekkala, but I know the man better than any wife could know him, better than a mother. He’s been my master and my study for nigh on forty years. I can’t follow him to the height of his thought any more than I can fly, but I can see where he’s a-heading even if I can’t go after him. No, it’s my belief he turned away from a rebellion against the Church not because the Church was too strong, but because it was too weak to be worth the fighting.” “So…what is he doing?” “I think he’s a-waging a higher war than that. I think he’s aiming a rebellion against the highest power of all. He’s gone a-searching for the dwelling place of the Authority Himself, and he’s a-going to destroy Him. That’s what I think. It shakes my heart to voice it, ma’am. I hardly dare think of it. But I can’t put together any other story that makes sense of what he’s doing.” Serafina sat quiet for a few moments, absorbing what Thorold had said. Before she could speak, he went on: “ ’Course, anyone setting out to do a grand thing like that would be the target of the Church’s anger. Goes without saying. It’d be the most gigantic blasphemy, that’s what they’d say. They’d have him before the Consistorial Court and sentenced to death before you could blink. I’ve never spoke of it before and I shan’t again; I’d be afraid to speak it aloud to you if you weren’t a witch and beyond the power of the Church; but that makes sense, and nothing else does. He’s a-going to find the Authority and kill Him.” “Is that possible?” said Serafina. “Lord Asriel’s life has been filled with things that were impossible. I wouldn’t like to say there was anything he couldn’t do. But on the face of it, Serafina Pekkala, yes, he’s stark mad. If angels couldn’t do it, how can a man dare to think about it?” “Angels? What are angels?” “Beings of pure spirit, the Church says. The Church teaches that some of the angels rebelled before the world was created, and got flung out of heaven and into hell. They failed, you see, that’s the point. They couldn’t do it. And they had the power of angels. Lord Asriel is just a man, with human power, no more than that. But his ambition is limitless. He dares to do what men and women don’t even dare to think. And look what he’s done already: he’s torn open the sky, he’s opened the way to another world.

life stories are just that. Stories, constantly created and revised, moment by moment. And no matter what anyone tells you, no one can write yours but you.

We are, all of us, bound for darkness.

And a love built on deception, no matter how pure the intention, was no better than a paper boat set upon a stormy sea. It might float for a time, but in the end, it would only disintegrate.

Love is funny that way, isn’t it? You think it comes with all these guarantees, all these failsafes—especially with family. With blood. But in reality, ‘should’ has nothing to do with it.

WITCH. The useful acronym stood for Women’s International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell, but it could also mean Women Inspired to Tell their Collective History, Women Interested in Toppling Consumer Holidays, and a host of imaginative variations. Proclaiming that witches were the original female rebels, hounded, persecuted, and burned at the stake because they had knowledge that men wanted suppressed, WITCH devoted itself to hit-and-run guerrilla theater, called “zaps.

didn’t

The message included several more minutes of muffled crowd sounds and clinking glassware before he came back on again with a flustered huff. “Bloody hell, I thought I’d… Where is the damn button? Yes, I realize that, but it’s a new… Here, you do it, then.” By the time he finished grumbling and the message cut off, I was actually laughing out loud.

What about your boyfriends?” I asked. She shot me a look, but she said, “I admit I used sex to rebel against my mother, and I’ve had a few casual boyfriends since high school. I knew they were after my body, and I like sex, but that got me a reputation. I had never found anyone I could fall in love with except Paul McCartney. But that didn’t work out.” That made me laugh but I was curious about her sexual adventurousness. Making the assumption, I asked her, “When did you start taking the pill?” “I started taking it at sixteen because the doctor said that I needed to make up a hormone imbalance. My mother was not pleased, but that’s when I got my license to screw,” she said. I laughed so hard at that that I fell off the bed. “You’re a witch,” I said. “A sex witch,” Kara countered. “Come up here and I’ll prove it.

Ruhn looked ready to get into it with his cousin, so Hunt did both of them—and himself, if he was being honest—a favor and said, “We’ve been waiting on a Many Waters contact to get back to us about a possible pattern with the demon attacks. Have you come across any information about the kristallos negating magic?” Days later, he couldn’t stop thinking about it—how it’d felt for his power to just sputter and die in his veins. “No. I still haven’t found anything about the creation of the kristallos except that it was made from the blood of the first Starborn Prince and the essence of the Star-Eater himself. Nothing about it negating magic.” Ruhn nodded at him. “You’ve never come across a demon that can do that?” “Not one. Witch spells and gorsian stones negate magic, but this was different.” He’d dealt with both. Before they’d bound him using the witch-ink on his brow, they’d shackled him with manacles hewn from the gorsian stones of the Dolos Mountains, a rare metal whose properties numbed one’s access to magic. They were used on high-profile enemies of the empire—the Hind herself was particularly fond of using them as she and her interrogators broke the Vanir among the rebel spies and leaders. But for years now, rumors had swirled in the 33rd’s barracks that rebels were experimenting with ways to render the metal into a spray that could be unleashed upon Vanir warriors on the battlefields.

At what—twenty three years old?—you’re playing the Lady Rebel?” he said. “It’s not becoming.” “It’s unbecoming,” she agreed. “A perfect word for my new life. Unbecoming. I who have always been unbecoming am becoming un. Though I point out you are the same age as I, and prancing about as a prince. But have you eaten enough? We have to say good-bye now.

San Francisco beckoned to dreamers and losers everywhere. Many of them found the paradise they were seeking, free of the small voices that had hobbled them. Stewart Brand, Chet Helms, Janis Joplin, Jann Wenner, Hunter S. Thompson, Robert Crumb. More and more rebels arrived every day. They found one another, they formed bands, they started underground enterprises, they made history. San Francisco was Radio Free America, beaming its message of liberation around the world and summoning an endless army of outcasts. Crumb

Energy cleansing is about shrugging off what’s not useful, bringing yourself back to centre, back to focus – hitting a healthy reset button.

Inciting Justice by Stewart Stafford They stretched his neck out, On the noose of his ancestors, Bloodied and tattered, he died, No invader fealty in martyr veins. The rope, a country's pendulum, Faces of stone from onlookers, A witch-hunt's hysteria spreads, Mourner's rain fell with temerity. A snowball in a regime's eyes now, Is the next day's roaring avalanche, More then take up arms to fight on, And raise the oppressor's gauntlet. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

metaphysical mindfuck of Death manifesting

led from my stone pedestal to the archway

no matter what anyone tells you, no one can write yours but you.

Rumors are like chaff, my love. Don't give them anything rough to hook on to, and they float away on the wind.

Sometimes, you cannot go home. Sometimes, you have to make a new home. And...it can be good, hm? You must hold onto the faith of this.

I feel like someone is walking into my darkened world and firing up a million lanterns all at once. No one has ever talked to me like this, as if the workings of power are something I have the right to dissect. And it's a heady idea, that change could be possible. But...what if there could be a place where everyone could be free and together?

He did regularly preach that anyone and anything that criticized his English Israel must be led by the Devil. Long before egalitarian rebels in America started to be cast off as extremists, criminals, radicals, outsiders, communists, or terrorists, Mather’s community of ministers ostracized egalitarian rebels as devils and witches.

Gray Vita mutatur, non tollitur.

cast into feminine terms, set the standard for ambitious actors. Charlie Parker, the genius of bebop, was a heroin addict; his exploits with women were as legendary as his mastery of the sax, an instrument whose major players were all male. Jackson Pollock’s explosive drip paintings and tough-guy rebel stance attracted wide media attention, a first in American painting. Drunk, he might piss in a host’s fireplace or upend the dinner table. Such artists were invaluable for cold war propaganda purposes. Whatever the impression left by the witch-hunts of Senator Joseph McCarthy, American rebels were living proof that, in contrast to the heavily regimented Soviet Union,

What were you dreaming by about last night?" His voice was low, near her ear. "When you called out for me.

Don't fight me, baby.

She felt Alex now, all around her, in the way a dream sometimes lingers in the moments after you wake.

You're a witch?" "Got a problem with that?" growled Gideon.

Love is the real enemy of the regime, and that's why you despise it. It's why Cressida tries to crush it. Because you both know, deep down, it has the power to topple you.

Who was she, deep down? Beneath the witch. Beneath the aristocrat. What made her her? Did a person change depending on their circumstances? Or was there something permanent about everyone? Something steadfast and true, despite their circumstances? Rune did not know the answer, and it bothered her.

Gideon pushed back his hat and aimed his gun straight at her. As their gazes met, Rune’s heart pounded like a hurricane. I thought you’d forgotten me.

Who did this to you?

Yequn is the Watcher who led astray the Watchers, bringing them down to the dry ground (earth) and inspired them to join with human women. Yequn inspires spiritual liberation by the path of rebellion, having the courage to forge your own path by the way of the unknown. The name of Yikon has origins with the Hebrew word for “Idol” and “Image”, representing the use of cult statuary and symbols in Magickial ceremony. As one of the ring-leaders of the rebel angels, Yequn is the inspired and determined Watcher whose spiritual linage exists within Luciferian Adepts today. Yequn holds the symbolism of the Infernal Union of the Immortal Spirit bearing the Black Flame and Earthly Flesh which is the initiation of the Luciferian Witch creating the self newly pulsing with Witch Blood. The Hebrew spelling is from “The Rebel” and “He Will Rise”םוּקָי.

11 Luciferian Points of Power By Michael W. Ford 1. Lucifer represents the light of intellect, wisdom and power unique to the individual with the courage to ascend to this responsibility. 2. The symbol of the Adversary is that of the self-liberator and spiritual rebel who inspires self-evolution. 3. Lucifer represents the balanced torch bearer of Venus: The Light Bringer as the Morning Star and the Night Bringer as the Evening Star. 4. The Adversary symbolizes the spark of consciousness which questions everything, manifesting the individualistic path with accountability only to the self. 5. The fall of Lucifer symbolizes the liberation of the mind from the slave-mentality and the courage to explore and master the darkness within. One may not offer the illumination of the Morning Star without the wisdom of the darkness within. 6. The Adversary represents rebellion with purpose: wisdom, strength and power. 7. Lucifer represents the courage and fortitude to acquire healthy self-love, leading to the responsibility of honoring your temple of mind, body and spirit. 8. To become your own god you must have the wisdom and strength to govern and guide your life as if your mind is to survive beyond the mortal body. 9. Indulgence with restraint, love for the deserving and disdain for those undeserving. 10. Lucifer represents the insight that every act, no matter if perceived as selfless, is at core a selfish act. Even if helping others is your passion, the brain still receives a chemical reward triggered by the act. Therefore, many consider that doing good deeds in society may bring you closer to “god”. Recognize you are selfish, then see this fact in all others while observing. Accept this and then with this knowledge, make choices that would benefit not only yourself but your loved ones’ when possible. 11. To become a god is to fully understand that you possess the power to create and sustain your path in life and illuminate the light of self-determined potential.

Initiation herein is found in the mysteries of the Fall of Lucifer as the 7-headed Red Dragon Samael (Satan) into the flesh of man. From the cipher of the Fall of Rebel Angels, instruction of the empyrean and infernal to the igniting of the Black Flame upon the Forge of Cain and Azazel are all archetypical representations of grades of initiation. You will be tested and challenged to gaze differently at the Serpent and the Demonic forces in the Night; upon wing and hooved beast will you leave the fleshly shell of your body, transformed and fly forth to the Sabbat of Witches and the Infernal Host.

Samael was the first angel, a god of immense power, the Black Flame was a great light which gave passion and consciousness to those of who he shared his fire with. The Gnostics name him Ialdabaoth (Yaltabaoth), a great Archon who could shape and destroy worlds. This Archon could assume many forms and shapes; within his empyrean clouds and a throne within the cold darkness his desire took the shape of a Lion-headed Serpent, whose visage was terrible and his eyes flashed as lightning. Ialdabaoth was also known as Saklas and Samael. Samael is thought to be a cacophemism for “Shemal”, an ancient Syrian deity whose name means “left”. Samael is both the “chief of all satans” as well as “The Greatest Prince in Heaven” who has authority and rule over angels and planetary powers. Samael brought into the world with his Black Light the knowledge of being your own master, having the choice to create and destroy, to become more and greater in your time. Samael introduced Carnal Desire, the “evil inclination” called “Yezer Ha-Ra” which rises from our primal instincts. In the Hebrew lore of the Adversary, Samael was a Great Prince of Demons, his aura was brighter and more terrifying than all the other gods, for his intelligence was great. Samael watched the clayborn humans slowly evolve but still without being aware of the self. Yahweh fostered these slave-humans who would do his will, yet Samael looked upon them with disgust. Yahweh the slave-god demanded the other gods should worship the mindless clay creation called man. On the Sixth Day, the Archangel Samael rebelled in disgust for the slaves symbolized as Adam and Eve. Samael proclaimed that those of his Essence, namely the Black Flame would not worship any lesser or greater being. When Adam was created from the dust, Samael was brilliant in his excellence and power. The Twelve-Winged Seraph descended to earth and took the form of a Serpent. He spoke to the woman Eve and with a mere spark of his fire to her clay, she became aware and knowledgeable of good and evil. Samael instructed her to eat of the Tree of Daath, that is, Death and the Wisdom found in Darkness. Eve shared this fruit with Adam, of which were only mildly aware and still happy in their slave-mentality.

Myth provides fuel for the fire of imagination and the use of symbolism. Such is the lore of the first Witch and Satanist. In the Jewish legend of “The Ten Generations”4 Satan, in the form of a serpent, approached Eve and copulated with her. The offspring of this first union was Cain, the ancestor of the rebellious spirits who reject the Hebrew God. Satan is a word for ‘Adversary’ and the proper name of this rebel angel is Samael. Cain’s descent from Samael in this legend is revealed in his seraphic appearance at birth; Eve declared, “I have gotten a man through an angel of the Lord”. In Kabbalah, the myth of Cain as “the son of Satan” indicates that moreover he is Samael’s spiritual son, Eve being illuminated from the Left-Hand Path teachings and guidance of Satan (eating from the Tree of Knowledge, copulating with the serpent).

The Watchers are paralleled in the myth of Anu (Heavens, Sky) copulating with Ki (Earth) to produce the Seven Udug-Hul or Evil Rebel Gods and Lamastu in Mesopotamian (Akkadian, NeoAssyrian, Babylonian) myth. In the Hittite and Hurrian myths of Kumarbi describe the rebellion against the King of Heaven, Tesub, descending from his high abode. Kumarbi copulates and impregnates an earthly female stone or rock, a diorite giant monster, Ullikummi is the offspring of the union, who then causes chaos and devastation in heaven and earth. In an earlier Hurrian myth, Illuyanka the Dragon defeats the storm god Tesub. The offspring of the Dragon then came up with Illuyanka and ate and drank from the earth. The storm god Tesub then defeated the Dragon and restored himself to the rule of the heavens. In Late Bronze Age Ugarit, the Hurrian associations survive in the cycle of this mythic pattern of this Canaanite cultural legend of Ashtar the Rebel. Ashtar the Rebel goes up to the heights of Mount Zaphon, sitting upon the throne of Aliyan Baal Hadad (who is in Hell, devoured by Mot). Ashtar could not properly fill the throne, proclaiming he would not rule the heavens as Baal and came down to reign over the whole of the vast Earth7. As explored in “Dragon of the Two Flames”, the origin of the modern archetype of Lucifer is found in the Epithet of 'Ngh w Srr', 'The Shining One/Venus the Rebel' which is 'Ashtar'. In the later Isaiah myth in the Old Testament, this tale is told with the Luciferian name ‘Helel ben Sahar’ as a Prince of Tyre.

I think someone broke her.” “Ah,” said Antonio, leaning back and folding his hands on the table. “Anything else?” Gideon glanced up. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to put her back together.” “You can’t put her back together. Only she can do that.” It wasn’t at all what Gideon wanted to hear. He frowned at Antonio’s shadowed face. “And if I lose her in the meantime?” Antonio’s eyes softened. “Love is patient, Gideon.

Kissing Rune was like a realignment. There was before, when everything was off its axis. And there was after, when everything was steady and right.

The problem with love is the more you try to destroy it, the stronger it becomes.