The following article is the first one which I submitted for publication after my residency at ChaosMagick.Com came to a close. The Children of Artemis have a hugely positive reputation within the UK Neopagan community, and their association with Witchfest has birthed one of the better small press esoteric magazines on the market. Now freely available digitally via their website, I was honoured to be in the very first non member exclusive issue. The resulting exploration of the spiritual side of necromancy, or more rightly necrourgy, is a return to the dreamlike narrative that I used to enjoy crafting when just starting out.
A Cemetery Path
A Necrourgic Journey
By Gavin Fox
Necromancy. A largely undocumented school of sorcery in the modern era, what little has been written on the topic seems to be needlessly couched in the language of the self described left hand path. This reliance upon the diabolic and transgressive does the whole movement a disservice, however, adding a shroud of negativity to what in truth should be a quietly reverent system of sorcery.
Perhaps this perceived polarity is understandable considering the term itself is often conflated with nigromancy, or historical black magic, due in part to a persistent mistranslation and similarity of pronunciation between the two words. Add to this the taboo surrounding death as a concept in Western cultures and it is little wonder that those who do ritual in that sphere are treated as criminals instead of explorers walking along the cemetery path towards life’s final mystery.
The linguistic issues do not end there, however. The word necromancy itself is glaringly inadequate as a descriptive for what those few who seek to understand the Veil between the seen and unseen worlds actually do. And as with all things magickal, the devil is in the details. Words have power, and titles used to describe an entire spiritual system need be more exact than most.
As a term, -mancy is derived from the Latin suffix -mantia and translates as a form of future sight or divination. While the majority of historical texts describing such contact between the living and the dead seem to revolve around seeking out the deceased for answers, a more correct title for the modern practice would likely be necrourgy. This is in turn derived from the Greek thaumatourgia, a worker of miracles, and therefore a practitioner of actual magick.
With the imprecise terminology, lack of predefined polarity and cultural constraints on discussion about such actions, the necrourge is free to choose how they approach the Veil. Some honour their ancestors, offering blood and sweet foods to entice them to their side. Others eat blackened bread and meditate on the the nature of death for days at a time. And then there are those who would try to make pacts with the hungry ghosts that wander the dark places of the world, turning lost souls upon their enemies as a form of curse.
Sadly, practitioners at the classically necromantic fringes of the art do indeed find value in handling human remains. Tinctures and charms, potions and incenses can all be crafted from the bleached bones and parchment flesh of the dead. Grave clothes are taken and worn for ritual. Fingernails and hair of those who have passed beyond the Veil are used as binding. Yet such transgression risks both spiritual and physical harm to the adept, so is best avoided.
Self declared necrourges are few in number, but it is safe to assume that anyone who respectfully approaches the spirit world, be they witch, priestess or ritual magickian, will see echoes of their own endeavours in the words of those who wish to understand death without harming the dead. Regardless of the sanctity of their actions it is a calling that naturally puts the adept at odds with many of those around them.
The first and seemingly simplest revelation as the initiate walks along the cemetery path to ultimately seek enlightenment in the arms of death herself is that their mortal shell is doomed to fail. The last days of any modern life, no matter how richly lived, are usually undertaken alone, forgotten and unwanted. Pain is silenced by drugs and the decay of the physical form is hidden behind heavy hospital doors. The idea of a good death has become obsolete.
It is in the recognition of this inevitability that the necrourge comes into their own. Sitting vigil over dying family members provides a solemn lesson in the nature of mortality, though for those who have been lucky enough to avoid such an event thus far a basic understanding of anatomy and a keen interest in autopsy or funerary customs can be made to suffice.
The most important thing to realise is that such remains are just meat and gristle, of no use to the genuine adept. The true necrourge does not need to desecrate such physical residue. No bones need be burned or flesh consumed for a connection with those who have already passed to be made. Indeed, the more lurid physical aspects of old necromancy are the preserve of those who lack the fine tuned instincts which allow for a purer relationship with death as a sentient concept in and of itself.
Shading into the psychic arts, a recognition of energy in all its forms is the only real prerequisite required for this interaction, though natural abilities such as clairvoyance or audience can be a great help. For those who lack what would be considered to be second sight, or who are just seeking to grow their fledgling skills in that area, by far the easiest way to attune oneself towards that cooling polarity is to spend time in the places that the dead reside. Hours, days, even weeks lost drifting between gravestones can open the senses to all the ethereal stimuli normally ignored.
While spirits do not as a rule linger in graveyards, they may be called at those locations far easier than at the necrourge’s own altar, especially if the ritual is conducted over their remains. The second revelation dawns when the adept realises that there is a reason why cemeteries have long been seen as yawning gateways to the underworld. They are thin places, and many who wonder among the solemn ash or knotted oak are not just there for the ambience alone.
That said, some who pass into the immaterial realm fail to arrive at their designated destination. As the adept becomes more accustomed to walking along the edge of the Veil they may need to fortify their cemetery path against the attentions of the uninvited dead. But unless the spirits are deliberately violent or threatening their presence should be handled with all the respect that would be granted to their physical remains.
Dying does not wash away the negativity of the living, however, and bad people remain so after they are forced to abandon their flesh. Should the worst happen and this appear to be the case then a far less polite methodology is acceptable. It is here that the necrourge can justify falling back on the brute force salt and summoning circle methodologies from the classical grimoire’s with a mostly clear conscience.
The dead are not supposed to exist within the material realm. The fabric of space-time refutes their existence, leaving them to drown in the very air that the living need to breathe. Weakened and confused by this fundamental conflict they tend to be easily removed with a strong will and unwavering command. Few are capable of wreaking the level of havoc seen in horror fiction, but if all else fails and the adept finds themselves in over their head there are entire mythologies of allied spirits that can be called on to intervene.
No matter how skilled a sorcerer or ingenious the witch, the next revelation becomes clear when the necrourge is able to temper their own ego with the realisation that reality itself has only ever been an endless march towards the future. At that point the adept must concede that they are simply the latest link in an impossibly long chain stretching all the way back to the earliest interaction between the underworld and humankind.
In time, should enough flagstones upon the cemetery path be walked, the adept will become intimately connected to the Veil. Standing in this liminal space is no easy task, and high priests or priestesses of this calibre tend to report debilitating health issues that dog them through most of their later lives. When coupled with a loss of connection to the mortal realm most become mere shells of their former selves.
Far from being a curse, however, the wise see this loosening of the physical bonds as preparation for the final journey. There is little cause to hasten that dissolution of the body, of course, as the ability to attain some form of immortal lichedom is just folkloric wishful thinking. But over time that fragility will manifest in their lives regardless of any efforts to keep it at bay. And when it becomes too much to bear their long walk will come to an end, and the final revelation is shared.
For as the adept finds that their time has come and the Veil calls to them with a lilting song that no one else can hear, they wearily step off of the cemetery path and cross the long grass to where death herself patiently waits. Here she will answer the question that has burned inside the necrourge’s breast since birth, help them understand why life abounds with such lust and sorrow, before taking their hand and gently leading them home at last.
The Accelerated Chaote 