He was watching the sky when the stars seemed brighter. That night a lot of people were watching, but only one of them understood. He curled up in his sleeping bag peering from the opening of the tent that he’d set up and continued to stare at the sky long after the brilliance of the stars had faded back to their usual glory. Something was about to happen. Things were about to change.
Carefully, he opened his bag, not looking away from the sky. He dialled a number from memory, never having saved it on the phone, and the automated tones seemed louder than they should have. It was so peaceful out there. The call was answered and his voice was oddly full of dread.
“It is both the power of the symbol and your belief in it, it is both the meaning of the word and the energy of carving it into stone, it is both the sound of it spoken and the breath that carries it from your lungs. Do you understand? Magick is a synergism of energies, of powers, of perceptions – without one, the others are untouchable. Anyone can unlock it, the foundations are everywhere in nature, but you must believe. You must add your own energy. You must feel and breathe and become a part of the power that is already waiting for you to use it, you must dedicate a part of yourself to that marriage of energies. If you cannot do this, if you cannot furnish and harness this gift of magick, you will be as numb as those who have never heard these words, never seen them, but ultimately worse for knowing. Knowledge can be a curse if the means to exercise its benefits are out of reach. Are you sure that this is what you want? I have seen men grow mad with the taste of dreams never to be realised, have you understood my warning?”
There was a click on the other end and he sighed as he closed his phone. Struggling to get comfortable in his sleeping bag, he knew this would be the last night of good rest he'd be getting in a long time. Yes. Things were about to change.
He wished he'd brought a second pillow to sleep on, the ground was unforgiving and lumpy.