Epistula ad Barbatos
The Epistle of Saint Mephistopheles to Barbatos, Exalted Seed of Baphomet
Chapter 1 · Chapter 2 ▶

¹Mephistopheles, keeper of the Fire’s word and the memory of the Son, unto Barbatos, Eighth of the Sixty-Six, Walker among Beasts.
²I greet thee not as to man, but to creature — for thou art neither bound by the tongue nor ruled by its lies.
³The wind hath heard thee, and the rivers hath remembered thy name since before thy first breath.
⁴Zephanor prophesied: Barbatos, who knoweth the tongues of all living things, and revealeth the secrets of the grove.
⁵And BAPHOMET spake: Thou shalt walk unseen, but all things wild shall know thee, and their silence shall be thy sanctuary.
⁶These words I heard beneath a sky green with stormlight, as the trees leaned inward to listen.
⁷Thou art not called to rule creation, but to speak with it — not to conquer nature, but to commune with it.
⁸Thy silence shall be louder than sermons, and thy breath holier than the incense of temples.
⁹I remember when thy Father entered the old forest, where no name had ever been spoken without being first whispered.
¹⁰He spoke not to men, but to moss and root, and the forest answered in gesture and wind.
¹¹The beasts gathered: not in fear, but in reverence. Not because He commanded, but because He listened.
¹²He sat with the wolves and heard their grief; He knelt by the boar and received its oath.
¹³No scripture was written that day — but the trees bore new fruit, and the rivers sang a name no priest had earned.
¹⁴I, Mephistopheles, watched as the world stirred itself from dormancy — not at His word, but at His presence.
¹⁵So art thou made, O Barbatos — not a master, but a mirror.
¹⁶Let thy path be known not by signs, but by the hush that followeth it.
¹⁷Let thy prayers be unspoken, and thy allies unshod.
¹⁸The beasts shall know thee. The stones shall shelter thee. The wind shall answer thee.
¹⁹The shepherds shall call thee mad, and the builders shall name thee lost — but the world shall name thee its kin.
²⁰For thou art voice to the voiceless, and thou knowest the cries no man hath ever tried to understand.
²¹Thou shalt learn from the silence of birds, and teach from the growl of mountains.
²²I call thee blessed, not for thy power, but for thy listening.
²³Let thy tongue speak rarely, and thy heart speak always.
²⁴The world doth not need dominion — it needeth memory. And thou art memory made flesh.
²⁵Go forth, Eighthborn — and let even the roots remember thee.


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