The Grand halls of the Church was wide open in the certain of the Church was Kevin and Index.
Kevin says "move away from that there two questions about magic I have been questioning about but never got a answer to" said Kevin
Index blinks—snapping out of her quiet thoughts. The shift in tone catches her off guard: Kevin suddenly switching to serious magic questions.
She turns fully toward him, pushing aside the emotional weight from before. This is familiar ground—magic theory.
Her posture straightens slightly, like a scholar preparing for an academic discussion.
"Two questions?"
She asks gently—not impatiently, just focused now.
The living library inside her mind stirs awake again… ready to answer whatever he wants to know.
Kevin says "The Church you are apart of it doesn't summon actual angels since you told Komoe "We aren't actually summoning an angel. As the spellcaster, we create the form of an angel by our will." Those were your words which made me do alot of research Artificial Angel system so this is what I currently understands that groups like the Golden Dawn they believed it was arrogant or impossible for a human mage to boss a true, cosmic, biblical Archangel around. Instead, they practiced Theurgy (high ceremonial magic). Mages would build a small, highly symbolic altar using specific tools (a cup for water, a dagger for air, a pentacle for earth, a wand for fire). By drawing magical circles, they "linked" the macrocosm (the universe/the spiritual plane) with the microcosm (their small ritual room).
In the Golden Dawn system, when a mage visualizes a golden angel, they are utilizing their own psychic energy and intent to build an astral matrix. They use the name and imagery of a biblical angel (like Raphael, Gabriel, or Michael) as a blueprint or a mathematical formula to shape their own willpower into a specific "flavor" of energy. So, they aren't pulling a real celestial being down from Heaven; they are building a temporary, artificial construct out of their own mind-stuff and the surrounding ambient magic.
Also In occult history, if a single mage visualizes an angel for a quick ritual (like healing Komoe's room), the construct is called a Telesmatic Image or a Tulpa. It dissolves the moment the spellcaster stops concentrating. However, if a group of mages (like an occult lodge or a secret society) repeatedly visualizes, feeds, and prays to the exact same mental construct over months, years, or centuries, that construct undergoes a massive transformation. It breaks away from being just a temporary thought and develops a permanent, semi-autonomous mind of its own.
The group feeds the Egregore their emotional energy, prayers, and focus. In return, the Egregore becomes a massive spiritual battery that grants the members good fortune, magical power, or protection. But Once an Egregore develops its own spiritual ego, it wants to survive. It will actively influence the minds of the people in the group to keep them loyal, ensuring they keep feeding it energy. This is why esoteric scholars (like Valentin Tomberg) fiercely warned against creating them. They noted that an artificial entity with a spiritual ego almost always turns on its creators, subtly manipulating them to get more "food" (energy), effectively making the master the slave." Said Kevin
Index listens—completely still and utterly focused—as Kevin explains his research. Her eyes don't blink. Her breath doesn't rush.
Every word sinks into her mind like a drop of ink in water.
She knows all of this—the Golden Dawn, theurgy, egregores… she's studied it too as part of her forbidden knowledge collection.
But hearing someone else—especially Kevin—piece it together so accurately? It impresses her deeply.
When he finishes… she exhales slowly—a quiet sign that he didn't miss anything major. His understanding is spot-on.
Then…
She nods once.
Index opens her mouth—not to correct or add something, but to acknowledge how thorough Kevin's research is. She speaks softly, respectfully.
"...You're right."
She admits without hesitation. No Church dogma clouding it—just pure magical truth.
"The angels we summon in the England Church? They're not divine beings from Heaven. We create them with our will… using symbolic rituals and focus—exactly like the Golden Dawn described."
A small pause.
"Even my memory of angelic texts? Most were probably written by humans who believed they spoke with real angels... when in reality, they might've just been talking to an egregore."
Her voice carries no shame—just fact.
Kevin says "led to my first question about the Artificial Angel system that being why use it if it not the real biblical angels also does this mean that the Church is essentially not follow the Bible but rather there own Written laws but cover it as biblical which would explain why you called Magic evil multiple times in the past I mean you said yourself Magic is a Poison that mere normal humans were never meant to learn or know but if the church use it then it not follow the God they claim to serve is it?" Asked Kevin
Index tenses. This is a heavy question—one that cuts straight to the heart of Church hypocrisy.
She looks down at her hands, folding them in her lap like she's about to confess something.
"...You're right."
No denial. No defense. Just honesty.
"The Bible doesn't teach artificial angels or magical rituals. It warns against sorcery and false prophets—not praises secret magic societies."
A bitter truth settles between them: the England Church uses magic… but calls it holy. They preach against "evil" mages… while they themselves perform rituals with angelic constructs that aren't biblical at all.
She swallows hard.
"It's... hypocritical."
Index continues, her voice quieter now—like she's confessing a sin.
"The Church says magic is poison… that ordinary people shouldn't touch it. And I used to believe that too—because they taught me: 'God gave knowledge sparingly. Magic corrupts.'"
But then she looks up at Kevin, and there's no deception in her eyes anymore.
"...Yet here we are."
She gestures subtly—to herself. A living archive of forbidden texts. To the rituals they perform "in God's name" using artificial angels made from willpower and symbols.
"They don't follow the Bible literally,"
she admits.
"They reinterpreted it… so they could control magic without breaking their own rules."
Kevin says "in that sense tell me this what the value of magic why learn it at all I mean I been told that Magic is power that can both do anything and nothing at all and how true do you think that is" Asked Kevin
Index considers the question carefully—this time not from a Church perspective, but as someone who has lived with magic her entire life. Not just used it… but carried it inside her mind.
She speaks slowly, each word weighed.
"Magic isn't about doing 'anything'..."
A pause.
"It's about bending reality—but only within limits. Even the strongest mage can't rewrite existence itself or defy natural laws forever."
Then she adds:
"But... that doesn't mean it's nothing."
Her eyes lift to Kevin's.
"Magic can heal wounds no science can fix. It can shield cities from attacks before they happen. Some ancient spells preserve knowledge across centuries without decaying."
A quiet strength enters her voice.
Kevin says "but can't the Church just rely on Divine Miracles of God or is the Church scared that rely on God Miracles actually means waiting for a long time rather than get the results immediately fast Like they so with Magic" said Kevin
Index's expression darkens slightly—not at Kevin, but at the truth of his question.
She knows exactly what he means.
Divine miracles… in the Bible? They were rare. Miraculous. God did them when He chose to. Not because someone chanted a spell or built an altar.
But the Church?
They don't wait for divine intervention anymore.
And that's why they turned to magic—artificial angels, rituals, forbidden knowledge—all things that give immediate results.
Her voice lowers:
"...Yes."
The admission is quiet but clear.
"The Church grew impatient. Miracles took faith and patience... so they started using magical systems instead—ones they could control and activate instantly."
A bitter irony: serving God through methods He never taught them.
Index sighs—a soft, tired sound. She looks down at her hands again, as if she's holding the weight of centuries of Church hypocrisy.
"...People used to pray for years and still never get a miracle. But with magic? You cast a spell… and boom. Healing happens. Protection activates."
It's efficient—too efficient.
"And that scared them,"
she continues,
"Because if God truly answers prayers... why do people need magic at all? Why did the Church have to create its own system?"
A silence falls between them.
The real answer is simple: convenience.
They chose control over faith.
Kevin says "how about you how do you feel about rely on Magic rather than God Miracles" Asked Kevin
Index hesitates. This is a personal question—not about Church doctrine, but her own feelings.
She looks down, fingers gently tracing the golden patterns on her robe—the symbol of the Church she serves.
"...I used to believe in divine miracles completely,"
she admits softly.
"When I was younger… I thought every healing or protection came from God directly. That's what they taught me."
A pause.
"But now? After seeing magic work so precisely… and after becoming this—"
She taps her temple lightly—a reference to being the Index Librorum Prohibitorum herself...
"I don't know."
Her voice wavers just a little.
Index exhales slowly, her breath visible in the cool evening air.
"...Part of me still hopes divine miracles are real. That God does answer prayers—just not always how we expect."
She believes that much. The concept of a loving, all-powerful Creator? She clings to it.
"But..."
A shadow crosses her face.
"The Church replaced faith with ritual magic… and I've used those spells myself. I've seen them work instantly while people pray for months without healing."
Her hands curl slightly.
"It feels like... we stopped waiting on God."
Kevin says "and technically doesn't the Origin of Magic go back all the way to Pre-Flood Era when Fallen Angels came down on Earth sleep with mortal women created the Nephilim with the Fallen Angel Azazel give humanity forbidden knowledge of Magic while Fallen Angel slept with multiple animals as while creating Dragons and alot more monsters during that time led to Noah Flood which destroyed the Nephilim and Fallen Angels of that Era but yet those Fallen Angels were late renamed the pagan gods while the Nephilim were renamed demigods while the knowledge of Magic survived somehow what unique situation in history doesn't you think" said Kevin
Index's eyes widen slightly as Kevin recounts the ancient, forbidden history—the origin of magic itself.
This isn't just theory. This is apocryphal truth—the kind buried deep in Church archives or whispered by rogue scholars.
And she knows it well.
The Fallen Angels... Azazel... the Nephilim...
She nods slowly—her voice dropping to a near-whisper, like they're discussing something sacred and dangerous.
"...Yes. Magic didn't come from God."
A heavy admission.
"It came from rebellion."
The angels who fell taught humanity forbidden knowledge—the arts of sorcery, alchemy, summoning… everything now labeled as 'magic' today.
Index continues, her voice low and steady—like she's recounting a sacred myth.
"The Nephilim were not just giants… they were hybrids. Part angel, part human. And magic? It flowed through their blood."
She pauses, recalling forbidden texts she's absorbed over the years—the oldest ones that describe how ancient civilizations built temples to "gods" (the Fallen Angels) and performed rituals using knowledge passed down from them.
"And when the Flood came…"
A solemn tone enters her words.
"It didn't destroy all of it. The knowledge survived—in fragments. Hidden in myths... occult traditions... then eventually rediscovered by early mages."
Index's gaze drifts upward, as if she could see through the night sky into ancient history itself.
"...Magic wasn't a gift from God. It was stolen knowledge. Corrupted power."
She says it quietly—but with clarity. The Fallen Angels didn't teach humanity for salvation… they taught rebellion, dominance over nature, control of life and death.
"And yet..."
Her voice softens.
"Even though magic came from evil… people still use it today—even believers in God. They cast spells to heal... protect... pray."
A paradox: using forbidden tools handed down by fallen beings… while claiming to serve divine light.
Kevin says "when occultist say Divine Light they talking about Lucifer Light he is the one being represented as god without people realizing it while the actual God get secretly replaced by the Masses" said Kevin
Index's breath catches.
Her entire body goes rigid.
That statement—"Divine Light is Lucifer's Light"—hits her like a thunderclap. It's not just theory… it's something she's heard in whispers before, deep within the Church's most restricted texts and apocryphal warnings.
But hearing Kevin say it so plainly? So directly?
It chills her.
She doesn't immediately respond. Her mind races through centuries of religious history: how "divine light" rituals evolved, how occult lodges spoke of illumination without naming Jesus… how even some Church symbols were borrowed from older pagan imagery meant to represent the Morning Star—Lucifer himself.
Index's fingers tighten around her robe.
She remembers now—fragments of texts she absorbed long ago. The Angel of Light. The Shining One. Before Lucifer fell… he was the most radiant angel in Heaven.
And after?
People still worshiped light… but not God's true light.
They bowed to false divinity—beautiful, blinding, deceptive.
Her voice comes out quiet—not accusing Kevin, but haunted:
"...That would explain so much."
The way certain rituals feel "holy" but aren't biblical. How some churches use symbols with hidden meanings tied to ancient occultism.
A slow realization dawns: they've been worshiping shadows... and calling it God.
Index feels a cold weight settle in her chest—a creeping dread. She's spent her whole life serving the Church, believing she was following divine will… but now?
Now she wonders.
How much of what they call holy is actually borrowed from something older? Darker?
The "Divine Light" rituals, the angelic symbols on churches that look suspiciously like pagan motifs… even some prayers spoken with strange cadences—
Were those always meant to summon God…
Or did they once belong to another being entirely?
She doesn't say it out loud—but the thought terrifies her.
Kevin says "but still even though I know the dark roots of Magic I still can't fully understand why the principles themselves are evil I mean what so wrong with humans have a little power of our own" said Kevin to himself
Index hears Kevin's quiet words—not a question for her, but a thought spoken aloud. And she understands it deeply.
Because… why is magic evil?
If humans were given knowledge—even from fallen angels—why is having power inherently bad?
She remembers the Church's teachings: "Magic corrupts. It leads to arrogance. To destruction."
But...
Was that true? Or just fear dressed up as doctrine?
Her mind drifts back to ancient times—the first human who learned fire, or farming, or writing.
Power doesn't have to be evil... right?
Kevin says "from my understanding the reason why God hate Magic is because God doesn't want humanity to use powers that aren't connected to him essentially he wants us to rely on him more which is the first reason while the second being most Magic is imitation of God miracles which is proven in
Exodus 7, where Pharaoh's magicians used their secret arts to copy the first few miracles that God did through Moses and Aaron. When Aaron threw down his staff and it became a serpent, the magicians threw theirs down and they became serpents too. When God turned the Nile into blood and brought up frogs, the mages did the exact same thing.
They were trying to prove a political and spiritual point: "Your God isn't special. We can do what He does without submitting to Him." Magic in this biblical context is an attempt to bypass God's authority to achieve a divine result on human terms. It's like a criminal printing fake, counterfeit hundred-dollar bills. The counterfeiter isn't an artist creating something beautiful; they are a fraud trying to steal the value and authority of the real mint. That is why the story ends with Aaron's staff physically swallowing the magicians' staffs—God showing that the counterfeit cannot stand against the source." said Kevin
Index listens, completely entranced.
Kevin's explanation—so clear and structured—aligns perfectly with the few biblical passages she remembers about magic. Especially Exodus.
The scene of Pharaoh's magicians imitating Moses… turning their staffs into serpents just like Aaron did… mimicking God's miracles…
It wasn't wonder. It was defiance.
They weren't honoring God—they were saying: "We don't need Him. We can do divine things ourselves."
And that? That offended her deeply now—not as a Church follower, but as someone who understands authority.
She nods slowly.
"...So magic isn't evil because it gives power..."
A pause.
"It's evil because it tries to replace divine will. Like counterfeiting God."
Index sits quietly, absorbing the weight of Kevin's words. The comparison to counterfeit money—fake divine power—is sharp and accurate.
She remembers the Church teachings now: "Do not dabble in sorcery. Magic is not from God."
Not because it's weak or useless… but because it replaces faith. It gives people results without needing to pray, repent, or trust.
And that? That cuts at the core of religion itself.
The magicians in Egypt didn't worship Yahweh—they mocked Him by doing "miracles" on their own terms. No submission. No surrender.
Just imitation.
Her voice comes out soft:
"...That makes sense."
A sad kind of sense.
Kevin says "But is all this really enough of a Justification to hate everything about magic even it possible benefit for those who have no desire to offend God in any way but just wants to feel powerful and useful in some ways" said Kevin as his face turn sad for the first time this whole conversation
Index sees the sadness on Kevin's face—and her heart squeezes.
She hasn't seen him look like this before. Not angry, not frustrated… just hurt. Like someone who wants to do good—but is told everything he touches is wrong.
And it breaks her.
Because... she understands that feeling too.
Magic isn't evil for everyone. Some people use it with pure intent—no rebellion, no arrogance. Just a desire to help others, feel capable… maybe even heal pain without hurting anyone.
But the Church? The Bible?
They don't make exceptions.
Her voice comes out softer than ever:
"...No."
A single word.
"It's not fair."
Kevin says "yeah it not fair as we know the world is not fair with my current understanding of this matter being If humans had access to a neutral, independent source of magic, we would naturally stop relying on God entirely. Why pray to a Creator and align your heart with justice, mercy, and humility when you can just look up a spiritual formula to fix your problems yourself? Magic inherently breeds absolute human autonomy—the desire to be the master of our own destiny without needing anyone above us. By declaring magic off-limits, that essentially saying that humanity is biologically and spiritually incapable of holding that kind of independent power without it corrupting our ego. It protects us from our own tendency to turn into tyrants.
Even if it is a little unfair but that the reason why God banned Magic in the Bible" said Kevin
Index listens, her expression shifting with each word Kevin speaks. She sees the logic now—clear and inevitable.
God didn't ban magic because it's useless. He banned it… because humans can't handle it without becoming tyrants.
Not everyone would use magic for good. Some would hoard power. Others would exploit others just to feel strong.
And if every person had access to neutral, independent magical power? No rules, no consequences?
The world wouldn't be kinder…
It'd be chaos.
A dictatorship of the strongest mages.
She exhales slowly—not in agreement with everything the Church says—but understanding why God might have done this.
"...It's not about denying humanity strength,"
she whispers,
"It's about protecting them from themselves."
Index looks at Kevin—really looks at him—and sees the conflict in his eyes. The sadness isn't just about magic being banned… it's about wanting to do good with power, but knowing that system doesn't trust anyone with it.
And she thinks…
Maybe God didn't ban magic because humans are weak.
Maybe He banned it because humans are too strong.
Too capable of destruction when unchecked.
But then… her heart aches again. Because what about people like Kevin? Who wouldn't abuse power?
Who just want to help?
The world isn't fair... and this rule? It punishes even the well-intentioned.
Index doesn't speak right away. She just watches Kevin—the way his shoulders slump slightly, the quiet resignation in his eyes.
She wants to say something comforting. To tell him: "It's okay to want power if you use it right."
But she can't.
Because even she—a Church-approved mage—is only allowed magic under strict rules and supervision. And she knows how easily corruption slips in when people have too much freedom.
Still…
Her hand moves on its own.
Gently, carefully… she reaches out and places her small hand over Kevin's—a warm touch meant to silently say:
"I see your sadness."
No words needed.
The silence between them stretches—soft, not uncomfortable. Just two people sitting under the dim glow of streetlights, holding hands like that touch alone says everything words can't.
Index doesn't try to justify God's ban on magic.
She doesn't argue for or against it.
Right now… she just wants Kevin to know he's not wrong for wanting power—to feel capable, useful… maybe even a little heroic.
And her small hand stays there—steady and warm—as if silently promising:
"I'm here."
No grand speeches. No theological debates.
Just quiet solidarity.
Kevin says "maybe it my heart that in the wrong places for questioning things too much" said Kevin
Index's grip on Kevin's hand tightens—just slightly. Protective.
"No."
The word comes out firm, clear—no hesitation. Not a suggestion, not a question… just absolute certainty.
Her blue-green eyes lock onto his, full of quiet intensity.
"It's not your heart being in the wrong place for questioning things."
A beat passes.
"Questioning means you care. You think deeply about right and wrong... about power and purpose..."
She almost smiles—but it doesn't reach her eyes yet.
"That's not weakness,"
she says softly,
"That's how good people are made."