On the plain of Erebus in the kingdom of Hades, close by the black and waterless river Styx, I dreamed a witch’s dreams and found a hidden gnosis: the knowledge and conversation of a demon. It rose up out of the tunnels beneath the earth and spoke in my soul like the night-time anticipation of death. It had the head of a man and the chest of a peacock, and its face was shrouded in shadows—shadows here, where there is no sun, in this place that is named "darkness." I realised I was not afraid, because I knew its secret name. Magic is the invocation of names, just as miracles are acts of faith and technology is the application of mind to stone. The names of human persons are sacks to bind up the fragments of our selves, but the names of the jennaye are instructions to the world, and the jennaye must heed them as the water must heed the moon.