“Oh Ancient and Glorious One I call to thee. From the age before the heaven and the earth were lifted to their places. In the time before time you have reigned,” spoke the human male. The room was dark candle-lit and smoky with thick waves of incense. Whispers and sudden muted shrieks were heard from the invisible forces. The gate opened wide. “Before there was light when darkness stained existence,” he called out. He unsheathed the dagger and presented it skyward. “You have reigned. Before the Sun and the Moon,” he said, “before the holy mother dried and gave forth life, you have reigned.” The noises through the spiritual door grew stronger and louder. The dark magic brought forth cold and palpable presence. A stab of raw fear clutched the human’s yammering heart. His breath fogged thick in front of him. “I call out to thee, oh Ancient One who threatens from Without. The Lord of Darkness, the Master of Chaos, the Unborn and Most Beloved. Come to me,” he called still, “The Dog God, the Dragon God, the Sea Monster, the Master of Magicians. I implore thee. Hear my plea. I pledge to you my life. I give to you my will, oh Mighty One, if only you make your presence known,” the father said. He sliced open his muscled chest. Blood dripped onto the male child splayed helpless before him. “I offer up my only son’s precious soul. To be your slave, work your will. To do as you please. I give him to you, oh Morning Star, oh Lucifer. Be there blessings to me. I beseech thee, Lord. In return I pledge eternal obedience to you. All the power and all the glory shall be unto thee and so it must be. Until the most holy day when you ascend the Ladder of Lights and ride in triumph through the gates of the Sacred City,” he proclaimed loudly. He paused a moment to catch his breath. “I await your command,” he continued, “I seek only to serve your whim.” He pointed the dagger tip downward and held the sharp blade aloft. He looked down at the babe before him. The room was chilly and full. He could feel unseen creatures slithering around him. They were touching his naked skin and tickling his middle, “A servant or sacrifice!” the bloody, wriggling infant’s father called out. He raised the sharpened dagger as high as he could above his son. He held it tight with clenched hands. He waited to plunge it deep in his baby’s breast.
“Spare him,” a voice behind the human commanded. He lowered the blade, but he dared not turn around. He knew the devil was there right behind him. And although he worshipped the Fallen Angel with all his heart and mind he did not want to face him. The Diabolous stood eight feet tall. He rose up through the portal of the chalked pentagram on the floor and stood before his quaking servant. “He shall be mine.”

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