Secret World of Occultists-Chapter 56: Occultist’s Intuition

In the dimly lit secret room on the first floor of The Society for Natural Philosophy, Abel had finally begin to study one of the three pillars of the occult—the esoteric ritual arts.

The atmosphere inside the room was calm and peaceful, and the light from the wall-mounted lamps cast a mystical glow in the surroundings.

The smoke from Madam Whitmore’s pipe lingered in the air for a few moments before dissipating into nothingness.

"First, you must understand that the three pillars of the occult—alchemy, astrology, and the ritual arts—are deeply interconnected," she began.

Abel sat with his back straight, listening intently to each and every word.

"Astrology is the study of cosmic forces and the influence of celestial bodies on earthly affairs. Alchemy is the transformation of substances from one form to another.

"Lastly, ritual arts are the structured practices that harness cosmic and alchemical forces to enact change."

She paused for a moment, setting the pipe down on the table, before continuing, "Together, they form a unified system, where celestial patterns dictate the timing of rituals, alchemical substances serve as conduits, and rituals act as the mechanism for transformation."

"That is to say, one cannot be learned without the other?" Abel asked.

Madam Whitmore shook her head. "Not necessarily. Most Occultists choose to specialize in only one field. However, a fundamental understanding of all three pillars is essential if you wish to master any single one."

"Alright, understood." Abel nodded with a solemn tone.

"Lucky for you, I specialize in ritual arts." The elderly woman’s lips curled up into a smirk. "Had you asked me to teach you astrology or alchemy, I would have simply convinced you that the ritual arts are the most fascinating of the three pillars an Occultist could study."

Abel’s lips twitched. "Lucky for me, I also happen to have an interest in ritual arts."

"Oh, how so?" The elderly woman asked, curious.

"Eh..." Abel quickly thought of an excuse. "Before I completed my first trial, Henry gave me something called talismans. One was to help me have a good sleep, and the other was to help keep harmful spirits away. I’d developed an interest in them ever since then."

"Right." Madam Whitmore nodded. "Talismans are a product of the ritual arts."

She paused for a moment before adding, "Talismans are a prime example of the three pillars’ interconnected nature. Astrology serves as the blueprint, alchemy as the physical manifestation of cosmic forces, and the ritual arts is the structure that binds them all together."

"Oh?" Abel was intrigued. "How so?"

"Take the talisman that aided your sleep, for example," said the elderly woman.

"Sleep is governed by the moon, so the ritual must be performed on Monday, the day under its influence.

"The alchemical components required are all aligned with lunar properties, for example, silver, lavender, sandalwood incense, chamomile oil, and the like.

"Finally, the planetary sigil is carved onto the silver—the metal corresponding to the moon—accompanied by an invocation to the moon, thus completing the process."

Abel was stunned to hear that, "There was actually so much involved in making that silver piece of metal?!"

"To an ordinary person, it’s nothing more than a piece of metal," Madam Whitmore smiled. "But in the hands of an Occultist, it becomes something far greater."

Abel could feel the weight of those words pressing down on his shoulders. He then thought of another thing and asked curiously, "What are planetary sigils?"

"Sigils are symbols imbued with intent," said the elderly woman. "Planetary sigils, in particular, serve as conduits for channeling the cosmic forces of the seven principal planets in the ritual arts."

"And invocation chanting?" Abel asked again.

"These chants are words of power, dear boy," Madam Whitmore explained patiently. "They are arcane words that hold supernatural force."

"Arcane words..." Abel repeated softly. "These words... something tells me they’re not Albionese, are they?"

Madam Whitmore let out a light chuckle. "Indeed. The mystical language we Occultists use in ritual arts is known as Enochian.

"Some claim it to be the oldest language in the world, others believe it to be the speech of angels, but its true origins have always remained a mystery."

Hearing her words, Abel couldn’t help but smile wryly, "That is to say, in order for me to learn the ritual arts, I would first have to learn this esoteric language?"

"But of course!" The elderly woman spoke matter-of-factly. "Ritual arts are sacred, dear boy. One cannot simply use Albionese or Reiklandic for incantation. That would be utterly useless."

"...I see." Abel leaned back in his chair, gazing at the dark ceiling of the room with a deadpan expression. "I wonder how long it will take me to learn this language."

"Oh, it is a very difficult language to grasp." Madam Whitmore picked up the pipe from the table. She struck a match and took a slow and long drag. "Needless to say, you won’t be learning Enochian in just a few weeks."

She paused, exhaling a plume of smoke to the side. "That is why I will allow you to take the book containing the Enochian alphabets, along with my diary filled with notes in Albionese regarding the sacred language."

"Really?" Abel’s eyes lit up and he sat straight. "That would really be wonderful, Madam Whitmore! That would shorten the time I would take to learn this language."

Seeing the youth’s cheerful expression, the elderly woman’s eyes narrowed. She couldn’t help but ask, "You seem to be in quite a hurry, dear boy. Is something the matter?"

Abel’s expression froze. He scratched the back of his head and asked sheepishly, "You could tell?"

"Get on with it." Honoria Whitmore gestured. "What’s with the urgency? You were just as restless when you first came to learn the ritual arts. Is something troubling you?"

Abel hurriedly came up with an excuse. "Troubling me? Perhaps... It’s just that I feel something bad is going to happen to me, and I feel like I should be properly equipped for that."

Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her that he was learning ritual arts so that he could be confident in investigating the origins of the cursed coin.

However, when Madam Whitmore heard Abel’s ’excuse’, her expression turned solemn. "If your intuition warning you about something, it would be wise to heed it."

"Uh, really?" Abel’s lips twitched.

"Yes." The elderly woman nodded in all seriousness. "An Occultist must always learn to trust their intuition. After all, intuition is tied to spirit energy.

"More precisely, it stems from sensory augmentation!"