The World At Shape

Any magicians around?

We have several. Professional, acquired, and usable.
We'll see...

There were five. One was meant out of water, one out of fire, one out of stone, and one out of
air. The last? There were five. We defined ourselves as spirit, and none was matched.

I took to think: Why not have it? Why not obtain the philosopher's stone? The elixir of life?
The essence of invisibility? The perpetual motion? At its simplest, none much could be stolen.

At that point, I took to think: that's enough on our hands. However, we were not too lucky.

Then something arrived. A deck discovered, and a deck at that.

Seven?
Just around that.
Lucky...
Perhaps.

The year on the calendar stated that it was 6789 A.D. (anno Domini).

And you don't suppose they're here? Imprisoned, in danger of execution, but of severe
importance?
I'm assuming we're not getting their last word, the officer replied.
None but trite and timely waste, but we'll figure at last?
Fine. It's based on 'divine unity', said the officer.

Chaos.

Pronouns, as ordinated and aforementioned:

1. Zal.
2. Faldom.
3. Unidentified, but none other than the major craftsman.
4. John.
5. A human being.
6. Stolen alchemy.
7. Animated persona.

Order?

Treasure... to be hidden and to be found, and to be found and to be hidden.

 They were imprisoned. The list was almost stolen. Our seven characters begin to conglomerate
and realize that this presence of theirs was far into the future. The issue held? The current time was a
time much in dire of traveling to... magic was to an end. However, we hold an intertwined paradox.
Could it be that there was no more magic? Could it be that magic was finally ended in that year
destroying it all in the process? Could it be that those seven, several magicians are putting it back? And
finally, could it be that some is left either way? Could it be that they came from much of a nostalgic
past to a much farther ideal of theirs, containing all that magic at that. And finally, could the future hold
a hand, gathering the past and their own presence as something launched as forever rescued, as
something so traditionally held in much golden value.

They were planning an escape.

Pronouns... quite truthfully:

1. Minus.
2. Wonderworld.
3. The Dealer.
4. Black Bird.
5. Ontomeles.
6. Risen.
7. Weather Man.

We had to hit to polar circumstances... towards and towards on, we had a goal.

One man had to pick something. Magic is loaded, but our gore of the future only substains a
miniscule amount, under much conditions. Technology is infinite, however we are scarce.

To kill someone, or a group of people, or even a storm, one is to

undertake a character or more, to live or to die definitely.

A rough rush of demonry by none other than The Dealer. Five dead, four injured.

The magician Weather Man - held himself in a wand of flames, attacking as much as needed.
Nine dead, one injured.

As for Wonderworld? A total brawl with deadly fists. Nine dead, zero injured.

Risen? Mortality known... and out of his own watch, came crawled salamanders armed with
fire. Five dead, sixteen injured.

Minus. As the named protocol, this man did nothing but throw red, hot stones out of his hands.
Nine dead, zero injured.

Ontomeles had to have healed the prior team at that, using his snake-shaped doctoral rod. Five
healed, zero dead.

As for Black Bird? The least reputated, however the most well-deserved and powerful. A man
of flight, a man of insanity. His high speed action had already occurred as of the first word pronounced
in this sentence, when he finally traveled everyone out of the asylum. However - nine dead, three
injured.

Decapitated? asked Black Bird.

But perhaps we don't have capacity, said Minus.
Capacity for what? I'm confused. asked Ontomeles.
Well it's sure we're nothing but a robe and a wand... said The Dealer.
Oh, and Minus is sure to tell the truth. We killed all and the rest are laying in pain. Risen
thought it over and they quickly disappeared to a next destination.

They landed near a cave in Ireland.

Rocked in, said everyone presentfully.

They saw nothing but what was supposed to be golden, Celtic magic. Runes of sorts. However,
through some observed, scientific study, it was useless. A future held nothing but technology and its
rough stain on magic, rituals, crafts of the sort, and so on.

All of it somehow turned off. It held nothing. The year crept in, and it was banned. How so of
a blank of enriched love? It was technological dependence and a way of making it nothing but
absolutely useless, dull, and void practice.

Good riddance, said Wonderworld. Now let's do it.

Everything was planned already? It took them several minutes to activate every rune in sight.
They returned in silence and awe.

Somewhere halfway out they remembered their next location: Egypt.

And so all appeared inches away. Wonderworld began to criddle in sand-like, dimensional pain.
As to why that even mattered? Four of them agreed on taking a electrical cord down on the bottom of
the pyramid just by levitating and teleporting it. As to what we called our computer at this point, was
nicknamed Giza.

Black Bird swept all six others away to Crete.

Can you be in more place than once?

As were swept to Sicily. A total of thirty-seven destructed palaces covered both islands (vast,
beautiful, and marvelous). Remains? They discovered two pots, nine kettles, four pans, six daggers, and
one bowl... until time ran out and they decided to meet somewhere close to night, at a time zone, at
some kind of forest.

It was in Germany, but this had nothing to do with obtainable magic. As discussion held, they
wanted to secretly conspire and listen to what they possessed at this point.

Do we go back? asked Risen.

Hold up! said The Dealer.
Let's travel? It's quite the emergency, said Weather Man.
The tool is still possibly efficient in the end... said Black Bird.
And as for that, we will never break the time-travel rule, claimed Minus.

The forest was absolute awe. The clock hit 5:22:AM at their watch, and so and so they stopped
looking around. After the meeting was about to retreat, they knew this:

The runes were at work, although much were in celebration, due to a good number of 52.
The electrical cord was truly a realistic, ritualistic swing of theirs that was very possible.
Though many palaces fell, and much was gone, they were later to return, and have at least
five.

Wait! exclaimed Ontomeles. There's treasure at our stand.

Our tool device was running low at spatial location... however, we had an extra minute or so to
find a coin or two.
They checked the map, realized they got lucky, and headed to dig. This might have become a
shrine in their hands.
Seconds passed as they dug through their minds... only to find nineteen coins. A planar mess.

1) The physical fire.

2) The astral fire.
3) The mental fire.
4) The physical air.
5) The astral air.
6) The mental air.
7) The physical water.
8) The astral water.
9) The mental water.
10) The physical earth.
11) The astral earth.
12) The mental earth.
13) The physical ether
14) The astral ether.
15) The mental ether.
16) One symbolizing causal karma.
17) One symbolizing karmic cause.
18) One symbolizing effective karma.
19) One symbolizing karmic effect.
 Quick, we have dire seconds. In our pockets.
Minus told this away... however, they all stopped time and needed a discussion upon
themselves, once The Dealer gave the idea.

Wow... said Ontomeles. Could this be karma itself?

They traded coins until they all held the idea in themselves, attached to each of its precious,
magical beauty. However, this was buried in the 5th century, as we each carefully guessed.

A physical element is a physical element at that. An astral one is one you can use in a dream.
A mental one, though, resolves to nothing but the movement of one's focus.

Ether was out of the question, although it had its answer. Ether is a sky region to magically
breathe out of. That's as easy description to the idea of its own planar use.
Physically? Normal.
Astrally? Quite weird.
Mentally? Some type of abnormality.
To spill out a breath, to quicken a dream, or to look up to anything but whatever lies above your
true self.

And as was said last:

What a beautiful German sky... Risen stated.

There are five existing planets in our universe? You have to be kidding me. said Risen.
Correction: there are 17.2 in our own galaxy, when it comes to a decillion chart, said The
Dealer.
And as for this island? Coincidental irony? asked Minus.
Perhaps, but no. said Weather Man.

They were located next in the British Isles.

They gave up and left. It was too much.

Ontomeles had a plan. And needed not to be bothered...

A man of alchemical use, a man of profession. Had he
not noticed the spaceship underground the island, none
might have fixed the idea of a beautiful, existent, worldly
universe. He had wanted to let this to end last, through our
activation tool device. It was an unexpected call at the end
of our quested journey. It was simply a rude awakening.
Of three notions, came three deeds: 1) He slowly purified,
matured, and perfected every metal he saw. The spaceship
was eventually going to be fixed by itself. 2) The astrology
 of it, came the astronomy of it. 3) As the ship itself had its
own synonym, one was to know that sailing requires beauty,
and not just magic. What's beauty to a spaceship, though?
Know four magical steps: a) it is the one b) it is nothing
but the mind c) it is everything when it comes to the soul
d) it is nothing but nature itself.

Ontomeles hid an hour or so, and was claimed missing.

Where were you? Black Bird interrogated.

Checking to see if we were right? said Ontomeles. I flew through every isle for the sake of
it.
What'd you do either way? asked Risen.
Perhaps we needed to leave colonial Britain? Perhaps I needed to keep my skills in tact with
myself? Perhaps there's something coming up right now, as a discussion? Perhaps I wanted to keep to
myself? Perhaps there was much of an uproar? Ontomeles was quiet about it, however the loudness of
his speech came along the fact that not only time told away as its own product of explanation, but noise
too.

That meant that he had no idea as to what was going on in this jungle. They all told him that we
were hunting for a relic. We were in the Congo. For some odd reason, they needed to find the best one,
and for some more of an odd reason, we happened to step into a rainforest in Africa.

Upon the stoned stairs, we walked into a constructed cave and found nothing but one, single,
giant relic in our view. It spoke, as we treated it as magic.

A rare find! exclaimed Ontomeles.

We were overly glad for the fact that we actually found something normal.

However, nothing was explained of it. It sat there, in our awe. We left it there.

And as we appeared, we brought ourselves to Italy. A farm in Italy. Far from Rome or even its
own cathedral, at that.

Minus and Weather Man were poets, philosophers at that, and quite aficionados when it came to
any type of card, any type of value, and both spots at that as well.

They recited something they wrote together, an article on committing to the aspect of justice.

It read as the following...

 An Article on Justice

Preface

As a king does, a king can do in four. A fool of a fool? Quite a perilous adventure.

A cliff rides, and so in and of himself, he rides in, and not out. Either way, someone rides in, and
everyone rides out.

Part I

Patience? The fifth is freed.

Vanity? Comes the coin and the cup.

Justice? Comes the sword and the wand.

For I am not freed, and neither can be a single soul of that self-decisive sin.

For I will be freed, for justice is none other than blood and magic.

Part II

A whistle flew, and so have our goblet chosen. Black, white? Neither idea can contain itself as
one picks both truly, so sarcastically, so effectively, so to win. Win what? Win nothing other than white
itself, at the very peak. Normally, one chooses white... and normally, one can simply choose black.

A triangular diagram of a kind, that yields to nothing but something nearly obtuse, and
equilaterally imperfect.

What's there to magic? What's there to know everything ever? What's there to know everything
beyond that?

Neither color is self-restrained at a full? Neither color ever will. It is justice.

Creed? On the other hand, it might have been dogma.

The two rejoiced, along with the others, and were headed towards the Gates of Babylon. As
instructed, they were to be not only careful, but urgency at its best. It was a severe, shortened time
stamp. They were not to be caught by anyone, for it was allocated as a governmental project (for study,
as still as today).

We killed two guards.

 Just grab a leaf or a branch or something, Wonderworld shouted. Quick.
No, we need to dig. And I'm not talking too much about treasure at this point, said The Dealer.
No... we need to look for quicksand. Let's go, stated Risen, and quite quickly at that.

Nineteen seconds passed, as they found it. A part of a palm leaf.

We're keeping it. It's enough. Let's disperse.

Risen let loose: We need the basics, don't we?

Keep on... The Dealer totaled.

They were in a Floridian key.

A low-lying reef or island, especially located in the Caribbean.

The shrine was found. Risen was using a formulaic latitude-and-longitude implication.

We are not to say a word... all four are in my knapsack, said Risen, with a harsh tone.

They left with a sign of remorse.

Had they have known if it wasn't unlimited knowledge, they were to creep themselves out,
think cool, and enter into the German library either way.

Early writings? asked Ontomeles?

Quite the rhyme! said Minus.

They collected every scroll they could.

The Dealer kept quiet... until he received all, ordered it numerically, and read it all at one,
magical turn.

Let's go... I'm just about done for, said The Dealer.

And we're leaving.

Not a single book in sight...

We caught fire! all had chanted.

Soldiers. Everywhere. Not our old type, either.

It was a battalion of just about thirty or fifty people.

 Weather Man chose himself as priority.

All stay in the library, it's my complete right-of-way, said Weather Man.

Everyone listened to his orders, and retreated instantly.

The attacks begin.

Weather Man hosted himself in a philosophical number of twenty-six people.

The first showed up, and was wanded a magician himself, and out of terror, came more, with a
single hit of a wand the water element hitting nothing but the soldier himself, in ice.

Second? They lost their wedding rings. It was an ultimate use, and as he held his wand, he
grunted in laughter.

Third: a man of a case, someone high in political rank? As I looked into his eyes, I knew the
incarnation of an emperor, one sole emperor, with nothing to think about but an empress at that. This
was quite the conquest. Political science told me that this man was about to die. He was definitely the
worst I've seen yet.

Comes forth comes fourth, an architect of some sort, someone of old age, someone that knew
everything. A dangerous oracle? As I held my cup and spilt poisonous liquid, he was either to die now,
or be fought then.

Two people of sexual orientation? A sword was held at my strap, a sharp and lengthy one came
to mind again. Slaughtered.

Seven comes lucky. As a chariot was spawned, full strength, came the pagan-like speed of
something no one wanted to quite feel. However, with enough strength, seven died of nostalgic
sickness.

A hermitage takes two skills: to stay safe in insanity, and to bear all you can with nothing but
yourself. The man seemed nice... however, I devised the fact that this man was the best of the best, and
strong at that. I left him a thrown pentacle. He caught it. As to who was confused? Him. As to a desired
fairness? Weather Man had no choice but to fill himself with false spirit, and kill the man. A betrayal.

Five soldiers stood surrounding. He chose to pick up his wand again, wheel the five around in a
precious clock-like fashion, at such a velocity that they were to die. Grounded and dead, flat on the
floor.

Weather Man was not quite fond of the next soldier's demeanor. Justifiably speaking, the man
was to be hanged. He was quite the scumbag. He kept slurring, and slurring, and as soon as the noose
held tight to the light pole, he was eventually dead. As death crawled into his temperance, Weather Man
was fully satisfied.
 Came a trickster, the devil himself. Came his own, self-absorbed, optical deceit. I took the air of
it, and put a hurricane in his trap? This was difficult. Perhaps the man was tricking me, and through that
wand, had I dried him. He fell forth, and was deemed dead.

Two soldiers were on two, adjacent ceilings. An urban call, at that? Sure, but this was quite my
flair. One was north, one was south. I felt the fame in them. They were jokesters? No, they were
prominence, working for this future government.

The beautiful, German moon lit. We met Satan. He called it to himself, and I had to identify
with that. Not only was it awkward, but I had to awkwardly call him the stench of a loser. He was
easily stabbed everywhere, and fell dead.

No daylight in sight? We met the anti-Christ. It turns out he fell into the previous soldier, and
weighed the man down himself. This was seven times easier, as I took out the time, showed him it was
close to noon, and atrociously wanded him in stone.

All the others left in fear. It was a last judgement. We hit to twenty-six people (the oracle proven
dead as well). As our figures stated... it hit to nearly thirty. However, more than half were dead, when it
came to fifty. This was sincerely the last judgment.

The rest met again, and immediately disbanded.

Rome.

A house on wings, said Risen.

They flew in and about, measuring as to what can fly around.

This was definitely fun.

It's a temple, however. Try your best not to touch a single piece of whatever's going crazy right
now, said Risen, in somehow of some implored manner of his own.

We get it. It's invisible now, said the rest.

They kept looking around.

We're out. This is wild, said Black Bird.

Rome.

They headed east to Greece. Plato's allegory of the cave stood still in our stare.

What's to it? asked The Dealer.

 I'm guessing it's a state of henosis, said Ontomeles. Not our forte.

Before they decided to disband themselves, they recited the allegory and then disappeared
instantly to...

A cemetery in the state of Illinois. Every tombstone stated a name of a past New Age
spiritualist. How so? It's not quite magic either. It was a commune of health... a body, a soul, a mind, a
spirit, a heart, perhaps seasons and senses altogether. Unfortunately, it was a commune of engraved
death. As to all that rested in peace and peace itself, all had a sense of some type of magic, through out
the ages and through out the majors. A seer was a seer no longer, when it came to the aspect of loving
heart. Yoga, meditation, and the mysticism of the like, was grown down six feet under, as average.

It was sad.

A dream machine? Was it projection? Or was it travel itself? There are seven planes in reality,
the second being the astral realm. As an out-of-body experience, all seven correlated with each other in
some weird-like trance, and entered into wild ways of being.

Everyone caught a star and came back to physical reality.

It was still possible?

And it was. Everyone rejoiced in celebration, as they left their spiritualist ideal.

It was a Himalayan cave. They dared themselves not to complain about the frozen cold.

Should we arrive at a library? And study everything as pseudoscience? asked The Dealer.
What a difficult entrende... quoted Minus.

I'll limit it, said The Dealer.

It took a single minute for them to enter into a locked library, surnamed The Society Library.

I'll limit it, said The Dealer.

It took a single minute for him to absorb all that information and hit it to his knowledge.

They were quite impressed.

Exoteric.
 Soma athanaton, briefed Ontomeles.

As we correspond to a subtle plane of existence, in a hierarchy or great chain of being that

culminates in our physical form... we enter into a body of light.

How about me? proposed Black Bird. We are now in a state of developed control, in exterior
fashion, in an instrumented subtle body, gaining powers as we progress and speak -

Wow! nailed the other six, in interruption.

Now comes initiation, with a mastery in the end, culminating in terms of the Universe itself.
said Black Bird.

A perfect yogic session. Some people can be weird.

They headed to the west coast of America: California.

They spotted treasure at a rush of several thoughts.

They found the underground mine.

They found mostly pyrite.

Fool's gold? exclaimed everyone.

Quite so. A majority of it.

Ontomeles hit to the map. Don't worry, I'll base the metal. We're provenly here, to acquire.

Gold appeared everywhere. Tons. Structured blocks, slightly misshaped bars, and formed
coins of the like.

I'll wand it, said Weather Man.

And everyone's knapsacks flew in full.

Quick. Out of here. said Weather Man.

Baphomet. My name is Baphomet.

Which witch is which? asked Risen?

It threw a broom at us, and we threw a broom at it.

Perhaps me, quoted Baphomet, as the horned one.

 We outsummoned the thing, understood the Satanic aspect, and left Frankfurt (Germany) once
again. There were no witches in sight.

An ideal of a new reality, and a reality of a new ideal came to mind.

What if we fail? asked The Dealer.

Everyone contemplated and discussed their problematic issue at hand. There wasn't really much
in their own presence of mind, as to what was seen and collected. However, they decided everything as
a fair mission, and kept arriving at a decision: Do not give up.

A desert in Arizona.

Peyote cactus? asked Black Bird.

We see it. Minus stated.

A nostalgic affair hit to their memories. Through the music of Ontomeles, and the marvelous
acts of Black Bird, they all shared a ceremony in peace, love, and laughter.

How fun...

We travel to Amsterdam, Holland.

What's under this bridge? asked The Dealer.

As they entered into the cave-like lair, they see many gear wheels. Everything was made out of
some type of bronze-like metal. The moon and the stars and the sun and even all of nature eventually
disappeared... and nothing was left but a hidden, darkish factory. As to what we were stuck in, was
nothing but a search for fun.

Minutes rolled by, as they awed over and over. They were fascinated.

Let's go, everyone said.

And so they left.

Note: All the sky and clouds and ice in the world... a direct spiritual insight into nothing
other than cosmology. A factory of night, fire, and heat... as supposedly interpreted.

Scotland. What is Freemasonry? As was established in that exact date the 16th-century an
initiative took place, one of a supposed brotherhood. Guilds of a sort? A Medieval way of looking at
stonemasons, people who cut, prepare, and build with stone.
 Not a single brick was found, claimed Minus.

It was depressing.

Everywhere? asked Wonderworld.

Everywhere, said Weather Man.

From the coast of Ireland down to the southern tip of Africa, did we collect our fact: there are
still herbs and plants. Medicinal or not (as such for pagan purposes), they were never gotten rid of.

However... all were banned for use.

It was contentment.

Should we do this another time? asked Risen?

He glanced around and saw the altar, located on a ground somewhere in Israel.

I carry the robe, said Black Bird.

I carry the dagger, said Ontomeles.
I carry the sword, said The Dealer.
I carry the wand, said Minus.
I carry the pentacle, said Weather Man.
And I carry the cup, said Wonderworld.

All seven smiled, felt funny, laughed together, and instantly left away.

To unite with God, to unionize with God, and to have oneness with God.

God?

We have five senses.

Perception? asked Minus.

They changed each other's sensory input, and gathered in a circular gathering, holding each
other's hands.

Color? That's not blue. Everyone resumed, yet no one held to chant.

It was sensical, sensical, and sensical. At a huge, grass hump in Northern Ireland, they let each
other end their fun by allowing themselves to enter an even more important space. All was much akin
to ceremonial magic... and that includes every time they have extreme amounts of fun.
 In the year of our Lord? asked Minus.

They stepped in the Holy Land.

However, they decided to venture in the quarter sometime later.

Now is not the time. said The Dealer.

All were in concurrence and took flight.

Treasure!

They had their map, and folded to a few several pages possessing travel routes in the Caribbean.
They allocated ninety-four desinations at every whereabout. They were in some particular isle.

Our choice was our choice...

Really? That many sunken ships, untouched in milleniums to come? asked Wonderworld.

That's too much. We're leaving it. said Ontomeles.

Left alone to nothing but riches to themselves. said The Dealer.

No one spoke of a crown, and no one spoke of wisdom or understanding at that.

They were somewhere in Africa. They found the tree. It was safe to touch around and know
around...

I take kindness, said The Dealer.

I take severity, said Minus.
I take beauty, said Black Bird.
I take eternity, said Risen.
I take splendor and glory, said Ontomeles.
I take foundation, said Wonderworld.
I take kingship, said Weather Man.

As far as our horoscope went, we couldn't find much, other than conscious emotions in our
selves. As far as conscious intellect went, nothing came close. As far as the crown, we chose to shut up
and leave.

And away they went.

 The occult is knowledge of the hidden. It pertains to supernatural, mystical, or magical
beliefs, practices, or phenomena.

It is beyond the range of ordinary knowledge or experience.

It is mysterious.

Human sacrifice? Mounds of skeletons? Aztecs?

They were in some part of Mexico, lurking around and seeing much.

Deathly curses rang their bells, and so often and often was someone to describe what an actual
human sacrifice is. To offer a dead body to a deity, as part of a ritual, was to know that this wasn't quite
the place to be around.

Let's go nowhere else, said Risen.

We met a dead curator in Dresden, Germany.

The way the painting looked in the museum is what was was engraved in 1888.

Made out of wood, representing nothing other than a medieval taste of a firmament, a
mystical quest for knowledge, and God's boundaries.

They all shot him. They all shot The Dealer. Dead even.

To resurrect? To resurrect was to call a dead person dead in the first place.

And we all remark the fact that he's actually dead? stated the other six.

And we all call him back to life? asked Minus.

And so they did, to prove a miracle, and so their wonderworking was at a completion.

Resurrection.

They landed in Greenwich, England.

A meridian, an equator... what's our time? asked Wonderworld.

It's our best at this point, at a prime. said Ontomeles.

Noon or night, they knew it to be true.

 Time will come.

Kabbalah, the ancient Jewish tradition of certain (biblical) mysticism,

derives itself from orally transmitted esoteric methods, later reaching its
height in the later Middle Ages. A disciplined school of thought
originating in Judaism.

Parapsychology? A joke of a pseudoscience? An investigation of the paranormal?

I'll cover telepathy, said Ontomeles.

I'll cover precognition, said Minus.
I'll cover clairvoyance, said Black Bird.
I'll cover psychokinesis, said The Dealer.
I'll cover near-death experiences, said Weather Man.
I'll cover reincarnation, said Risen.
I'll cover apparitional experiences, said Wonderworld.

How phenomenal.

Words have power, and our magic word is wyrd.

A concept in Anglo-Saxon culture roughly corresponding to fate or personal destiny.

Obeah?

A sorcery practiced all over the Caribbean?

Our confidential records tell us the islanders hid this to themselves since the war against magic.

Ten cultures, ten nations, and as we stepped ashore, we left in no greivance whatsoever.

The Rosy Cross.

Its beauty, structure, color, symbols, and meanings threw too much at us.

We took the printed portrait and buried it underneath the Saharan desert. We used shovels,
looked out for a sandstorm, and left it at that. It was framed and perfectly put...

Quicksand? exclaimed everyone.

And there it went down.

For the better.

 Gnosis - knowledge of the hidden.

Each of them took an apple, bit it down, and learned many spiritual mysteries.

The ritual held some time, until too much went into their minds.

They favored the idea of an apple tree, and quickly left that part of Greece.

Indigo children are children who are believed to possess special, unusual, and
sometimes supernatural traits or abilities. They are sometimes also referred to as crystal
children or star children.

They're everywhere, said Risen.

That's ironic, the rest declared.

They fleeted.

We approached the topic of divination... the practice of seeking knowledge of the future or the
unknown by supernatural means... an attempt to get information through omens.

Will we win?

They flashed through a federal library located in America and found a dictionary.

Let's look for it. said The Dealer.

On that alphabetized page, they finally found the word: enchantment.

As an incantation, what could that even mean? asked Ontomeles.

They rushed out, and knew the survived word.

Horns or no horns, we found the piece. Northern Finland.

Too cold, anyone? asked Weather Man.

It had the form and structure to fit into our pockets. A viking helmet...
 The San Francisco Bay Area.

The San Francisco Bay Area?

Black or white?

White, said Ontomeles.

Theurgy is a system of white magic practiced by the early Neoplatonists... it's the operation or
effect of a supernatural or divine agency in human affairs.
Scientifically speaking, that is. finished Ontomeles.

Esotericism as a universal, secret, inner tradition.

Esotericism as an enchanted world view.

Esotericism as claims to higher knowledge.

Esotericism as "rejected knowledge?

The Taj Mahal looks the same, noted Wonderworld.

Shall we go inside?

No, replied Wonderworld. No...

They retreated.

Integral integral integral integral integral integral integral integral.

Integral.

We sent ourselves to West Africa. How many synonyms for the word spirit?

Vodun, pronounced Black Bird.

Vodon, pronounced Wonderworld.
Vodoun, pronounced Risen.
Vodou, pronounced Weather Man.
Voudou, pronounced The Dealer.
Voodoo, pronounced Ontomeles.
And we're done, said Minus.
 Magick - it is theoretically possible to cause in any object any change of which that object is
capable by nature.

Black Bird.

Bb