A Philosophical Fantasy Saga for a New Mystic Age

Andy Crowley Sole Sorcerer of Sanctuary

Western society is built on a series of misunderstandings.

~ Terence McKenna



Ceaseless, thankless toil. Andy recalled his father’s words as he watched Mr. Jones write more physics formulas on the blackboard. The words still had the smell of whisky on them. But even after all they’d been through, Andy missed his dad.

Ignoring the blackboard, he went back to drawing the dungeon map he would use on Friday night. He switched to a red pen and drew in a secret door with a needle trap in a hidden lock.

Ceaseless, thankless toil. He knew his father had been right.

The booze had been a symptom, it was his culture that had destroyed him. This culture that was destroying everybody. Right here, right now, in this classroom he was being desensitized to it. He was being prepared for the dull-witted drudgery of indentured servitude and consumerism.

Andy Crowley was not going to let it happen to him. No way. He was well down the mystical path. The fruit of Eden had withered from his mind. False delineations: religions and races, nations and cultures, labels and measures, no longer carved up and marred his reality.

Tonight, he would astral project to the Akashic plane. Tonight he would resume his studies in the aetheric echo of the libraries that had been burned at Alexandria.

Andy Crowley was a sorcerer. And as far as he knew, he was the only one on Earth.

He was right about that.

But there was something he didn’t know.

Out beyond the event horizon known as Sanctuary Rim — in the sorcerous bedlam of the wider, wilder multiverse — Earth (as he thought of it) was known as Sanctuary, for it was the one place in all existence where consciousness could not penetrate inward to the delta quanta that churned in the probability vortices.

It was the one place in reality where magic didn’t work. Or rather, wasn’t supposed to work.

What then was the deal with this Earther, Andy Crowley?

Increasingly, that question burned across the heavens and hells alike.

For indeed, had it not been foretold that an impossible sorcerer would arise from magic-less Sanctuary?

And had it not been foretold as well that it would be he who would become the dread Abraxas: vanquisher of all free will in the multiverse.



Read The Andy Crowley Saga

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