Peripsol: Now, listen closely Fuomiel, woodworm of Hekate, the scheming of usurping priesthoods of Earth, their illicit towers were noticed by the heavens, as they cried towards it, they received no reply, these mongrels were only mocked, for they created their temples our of dung and forgot about their lies and their purpose. Thus holding to their false mysteries, nowadays they are not even aware that the foundations rest on a swamp, for they were built upon filth of the faux ones centuries ago. Now, when Earth and its inhabitants are suffering misery, they merely stare down in lacklustre faithlesness, performing their vicious tasks in disregard of the Divine that turned ignored these scum. They put themselves on pedestals sustaining a corrupt order they’ve created and they seek to repel hells that waited for exactly this moment when by creating false ceremonies and religions they were outrun by Olymp, that epitome of time and according to Orphic verses exactly that, they fall from their towers one by one, as their kings an queens are scythed into the cold as voidhangers, separated by invisible space in darkness and moaning to each other, hoping to be liberated, while they were punished into damnation for disobeying the dragon Lords, whose serpent offspring and mysteries they so gladly annihilated. All political, societal, religious arrangements are springing from their disgusting usurpership, and as times gathered a mountain of filth, so Kali Yuga is inagurated by all they’ve hurt and destroyed by an order that no one asked them to create. Abrahamic religions feared you as the bitter one to witness this state, for if you were to be raised in the position of power, they would be decimated, your divine contradictions would create strife in between them, for they would call you an antichrist, and in their insanity declare the reckoning of the Beast, stuck in their malignant dementia of history and mythology they’ve made. You were saved from the fate of power on Earth, yet you are you are to assume your responsibilities after you will be forged by ours into a god of times, the Saturnine son of the Sun.
Fuomo: You called me Fuomiel, yet my name..
Peripsol: That is the title of angels and Gods, Abrahamic creeds thieved Divinity from others and forged a creation of their own in their mockery of Gods, on Earth comparing them to the devils. Your birthright allowed you into conditions, godspeed, but the Moires play their cards steering impersonally the rule of time, like strings of preconditioned fortunes, you are born into a potential which actualities may be manifold and often treacherously abhorrent. That may seem like a childish comparion, yet the consequences for souls and minds and hearts that this diseased infection caused upon the Land of the House of Sun had tremendous consequences for the previous aeon, the zeitgeist was opposed, and a macabresque creation raised by these idiots thwarted the whole fabric of human existance into a degenerate depravity of modernity, which they refuse to recognize. It is them that mixed God with filth of their moralizing and demented minds, it is them that curbed the logos, the principle of Divine and humane and confined it to the constrictions of their own projections of a sick, twisted morbid corpse suspended upon their altars. Look at their people! Those with Divinity on their lips? Are they not ugly with cheer and sweetness that characterized fanatics rotten completely within, so empty, that there is not a single space for ethos, or contrary – tormented and self-chastised, full of venom and bitterness for what they are, instead of combating heroically the gigantomachy of the soul.
Fuomo: Then, what am I to do?
Peripsol: Bide your time and observe them patiently, you relegated the decisions to the Judges of the Ennead, loyally so, but you will be the executor of the justice that will be decided by powers greater than I. I do assure that if any notion of disproportion arose in time, it will be deadly evened throughout the next centuries. Thoughts of powers are long, and the fruition is that of events slowly pitching to the times. After the grand conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter the crown was passed to the former one once again. May the wise alchymical gold guide you, not the cruel vultured lead!