First, I pay respect to the queen of night and that nobility of the great below. I was born on a new moon night, a dark night, and the moon conjunct that baleful star Antares.
How to begin my tale? Does it matter? Surely it does not matter. Or rather, I do not. And yet I will spun a tale for your entertainment and my remembrance.
I began by going to a crossroad at new moons. At first I was trying things. One of them was I called the spirits of the land and all the dead. Then I walked home without looking back. This proved very 'effective'. I saw, as I came up from the crossroad, some grey thing of nightmare. I felt them follow. When I got home I saw my dead uncle beside my live mother. Some people carry their dead with them. Finally on my bed I made a pact with the queen of night, Hekate, to serve her. She said something like: I have a use for you.
And so I kept going to the crossroad at new moon. I would speak, sometimes poems, sometimes small things I wrote. They held meaning beyond my understanding, but rarely did I see it. One dark night, when I was at my lowest, the lady visited me at home and showed me that I was more in those night journeys to the crossroad than in anything else I did. I uttered a plea to the goddess, for freedom. Maybe my request was not granted but it helped me to continue living. I felt reborn in darkness, as a child of night. I felt the night above me as a great palace, a home. Under its invisible columns I felt safe. I longed for it in the day. By then I was told to bury a statuette of Hekate at the crossroad and dedicate it to goddess, which I did.
I stopped my visits for months. Did I lose faith? I certainly forsook the pact. But I did return. With more conviction now, I started going deeper into magic. So began my work with the lesser key of Solomon, the Goetia. By way of invocation I started contacting the great nobility of the below. At first the great Duke and Earl Murmur. Many others followed. I was like a child in a candy shop. I do not call so often now. As for the lady I do not call at all, but she does visit, usually in dark nights when I am at my lowest. I no longer speak at the crossroad. My mouth turned to silence. No more words, no more desires. Just a simple offering of milk and honey poured by the dark night of the new moon.