The same setting as at the opening of Act Two. Stormy night. A gale moans round the columns of the portico. Thunder peals as if it would shake the foundations of the mountain. The black sphinx and the white sphinx, crouching over the abyss at the entry of the inaccessible sanctuary, with their wings outspread, appear and disappear through the darkness by the glare of the lightning flashes, which recur at frequent intervals.



HERAKLIDOS (striding out of his shelter and stooping to the right towards the valley). Still no one! . . . Yet I am sure that he must come on this wild night by the obscure ravine which leads to the steep mountaintop. But in this black and hissing whirlpool I can detect no human voice, no sign of a torch. The thunderbolts fall, the furious winds assail the mountain on every side; the raging elements shriek in their eddying whirl as if they were the masters of the earth and as if the everlasting Law had no control over them. Even so in the populous cities, crowned by a white acropolis, do human passions rage, when no sage or hero is there to guide them and when the sun of truth fails to pierce their cloud masses with its shining beams. (The storm seems to recede, the lightning continues.) Phosphoros! Phosphoros! Your city is about to crumble. But you, her last hero, herald of a new world, you must proclaim your faith to the end, without walls or comrades to protect you. If now the world were to see you waver, mankind’s Hope would sink with its courage to dare. From your example must shine forth a gleam bright enough to illumine the future. Will you have the strength to persevere in the supreme ordeal of seeing your work apparently perish and yet holding fast to your belief, 0 you, the liberating Hero, 0 you whom my meditations have cherished like a mother and whom my thoughts have preceded like eagles! To what purpose shall I have known the inmost secrets of divine knowledge, faithfully transmitted from age to age? To what purpose my power of contemplating the Archetypes and of calling forth guardian spirits, unless a Hero by his life and death incarnates their power in the sight of men? Yes, if I have dwelt in this solitary temple to the extremity of age, like a snow-clad cedar on the summit of Lebanon, it was to see one day a Hero take in his hand the torch of Lucifer! But what will your final destiny be, 0 Phosphoros? Strange to say, the heavenly voice commanded me last night to set ‘two chalices on the altar for the communion of supreme love’! . . . Who will fill these chalices? Who will drink from them? I know not; I obey the Spirit which speaks to me. (He goes with the two golden chalices in his hand to put them on the altar at the back between the two sphinxes.) The Voice said to me further: ‘The oppressors of the Soul are threatening the Temple of Truth; but the children of Lucifer will save it by a burnt offering. From the sacrifice will issue the sign of fulfilment.’ What is this sacrifice? Mystery. Something great and formidable is in preparation. As for me, I watch and wait. (Further peals of thunder.) But the storm is returning. Will the fury of the elements engulf my heroic seed like a wisp of straw? Demons of the air, watch over the son of the Temple; respect him, heavenly thunderbolt; for he also is a spark of the Almighty! (He stoops to look into the valley.) A torch! . . . a torch in the ravine! This way, Phosphoros . . . this way!




Enter Phosphoros with a lighted torch. Heraklidos clasps him in his arms and leads him to the middle of the porch.

HERAKLIDOS. My son, my hero, welcome to my sanctuary. As you see, the Temple of Truth does not tremble amid the tempests.

PHOSPHOROS (drops his torch and sits down exhausted at the foot of the column). You alone can still save me.

(The storm abates.)

HERAKLIDOS. It was to save you that I sent for you. It is here that imperishable shields are forged against the Fates.

PHOSPHOROS. The omens are sinister. Everyone is deserting me, both Ionia and my city. Androcles is dead, Phrygius has betrayed me. Now at the moment of the supreme struggle, the whole city, raised against me by the Bishop, threatens me with banishment . . . to be banished by Dionysia to which I had restored a soul. . . . Can you conceive that, Heraklidos?

HERAKLIDOS. They wish to live for themselves, and you to fight for the latest-born of the gods. How could you agree?

PHOSPHOROS. What will become of this god without the city which serves him as a temple and a pedestal? The rigour of destiny, like human effort, must have its bounds. At your call, I have left Cleonice in the hands of Damis and I have come. Restore to me now my city which is deserting me, or else your magic art is nothing but trickery and your god has lied about it!

HERAKLIDOS. Unless you have acted from the innermost prompting of your desire and unless you find your supreme joy in this thought, you are no Hero. As for me, I bear witness in the name of the living God, if I have not shown to you the true Guardian Spirit of your soul, I am nothing but an impostor.

PHOSPHOROS. But defeat?

HERAKLIDOS. There is only one defeat, to doubt oneself.

PHOSPHOROS. But my work?

HERAKLIDOS. The work for which one dies revives mysteriously by a heavenly magic. That is how the Eternal proves its worth over the Ephemeral. Did I promise you that you would die full of years and riches, and a king? Are you not beloved by a divine woman? Have you not reawakened the soul of Dionysia and brought forth a new god from the soil of your native land? Would you have done this miracle and tasted for a day the joy of the Immortals, had I not given to you the baptism of fire by invoking your Guardian Spirit and your Star?

PHOSPHOROS. My Guardian Spirit and my Star? . . . Where are they? Ah! Could I but see them again!

HERAKLIDOS. You can. But consider: heaven, like earth, has its indefeasible laws. The Spirit which guides the life of heroes appears to them thrice only: on the eve of initiation, on the eve of victory and on the eve of death. You have seen yours twice already. Will you now invoke him for the third—and the last time?

PHOSPHOROS. Yes, I will do so, happen what may! Better to die seeing Him than to live doubting Him. Let me know from Him the last word of my destiny.

HERAKLIDOS (scattering incense on the altar flame). Angel of the Empyrean who dwellest in the abyss; Prince of the Souls who strive against the Almighty in the name of the Eternal Himself, I invoke Thee! Come at the call of a Hero who summons Thee. Lucifer! Lucifer! Come forth! Come forth!

(Lucifer appears above the chasm between the two sphinxes, seated on a globe as in Act Two. His arrival is announced by the same imperious strains of brass, but they are now hushed and as it were veiled by a tone of mourning. A red light moves in front of him, but no underground thunder accompanies him. Instead of holding his torch upraised to heaven, he holds it downward with his arm hanging beside him. His pensive countenance is bowed over his bosom.)

LUCIFER. Thou hast called me before the appointed hour and against my will. What dost thou want of me, Phosphoros?

PHOSPHOROS. Mighty Spirit, the first flash of thy glory aroused my naked soul and made my will master of the darkness of instinct. I have fought under thy sign, I have held aloft thy torch in my city. Like thee who kneadest warriors out of earthly clay, I have awakened souls, I have refashioned men’s hearts, I have brought forth free men. But now the world which I have braved is falling back upon me like an ocean in overflow. My mother city, which has become my daughter city, seeks to banish me. I appeal to thee, my Archetype, my Archangel, give me back my weapons to fight, give me back my strength and my people!

LUCIFER. I have done for thee all that I could. Thou hast fought thy fight, and had thy victory. Great intentions must be expiated; heroes have their Nemesis.

PHOSPHOROS. Thou wilt abandon me then?

LUCIFER. No; unless thou wilt abandon thyself.

PHOSPHOROS. But the work? Thine and mine? What will become of it?

LUCIFER. The times of trial have come. My followers will be trampled down. The world is prostrate in submission, in prayer and in awe of the Eternal. Strength resides in those who deny themselves. The mastery of the earth belongs now to the other Word of God, to Christ. But I shall rise again out of my darkness, I shall break my chains asunder, I shall lift on high my torch. A day will come when we shall reign together upon earth, He the Messiah, come down from Heaven, and I the Archangel, risen again from the Abyss.

PHOSPHOROS. Hast thou no other promise? What will become of me?

LUCIFER. Thou art but one of the myriads of sparks from my torch. But thou mayst choose whether to annihilate thyself or live by thine own will.

PHOSPHOROS. What must I do to live?

LUCIFER. Look at me, the Spirit cast out by thunderbolt, whom nothing crushes nor quells, neither scourges, nor tortures, nor the ruins of ages, neither the fear of Hell nor that of Eternity. And now the abyss draws me back, the night enfolds me anew. And yet I know . . . it belongs to me . . . The Empyrean ... the Empyrean. . . .

(Lucifer has raised his torch and slowly plunges into the chasm.)

PHOSPHORUS. Do not go away! . . . Stop! A word . . . but one word more!

LUCIFER (from the depth of the abyss). Per . . . severe!

PHOSPHOROS. He has gone . . . without a word of hope.

HERAKLIDOS. The Star also will speak with you. . . .

Hear it!

(The glowing Star draws near, as in Act Two, along the gallery and remains poised over the chasm, to the sound of sweet music.)

PHOSPHOROS. A heavenly serenity radiates from its golden core, and the glory of its beams sets men’s souls at rest.

VOICE OF THE STAR. Phosphoros! Phosphoros! Believe in Love! If thy chosen Soul still love thee when all else deserts, then the immensity of thy hopes will still shine on the horizon.

PHOSPHOROS. Will she be faithful to the end?

THE VOICE. Thy faith is the measure of her love.

PHOSPHOROS. Shall I see her again in this world?


PHOSPHOROS. And in the other?

THE VOICE. Believe!

PHOSPHOROS. But where shall I find supreme Truth?

THE VOICE. Where the Star of Lucifer shines through the Cross of Christ.

(The Star fades.)

PHOSPHOROS. It fades and goes out . . . and without a word of certainty for my thirsting heart! Heraklidos! Can you bring it back!

HERAKLIDOS. No power can rekindle that light or renew the vibration of that sublime voice. You will hear it no more in this world. But I hear other voices.

(He moves towards the left end of the portico.)

HERAKLIDOS. A torch in the ravine! A Messenger!



THE SAME, a SERVANT of Phosphoros.

THE SERVANT (out of breath). I have followed you, my lord, through the darkness and the storm, under the guidance of the highland folk who are friends of Heraklidos and guard the Temple. Do not return to Dionysia; never return there, your life depends on it.

PHOSPHOROS. Why, what has happened?

THE SERVANT. Scarcely had you left when the assembly of the people condemned you to death. Then they pulled down the statue of Lucifer on the Acropolis and raided your house. Damis defended it with the phalanx, but he fell stricken with many blows at the foot of the household altar.

PHOSPHORUS. 0 Damis, flower of my youth, my living hope, the tenderest shoot on the tree of my life! You too gone! What a vengeance you have taken for my doubts of you! You have forestalled me in the palm of martyrdom!—And Cleonice? You have nothing to tell me of Cleonice?

THE SERVANT. The sentence of banishment did not include her, but she has disappeared.

(From now on the storm is renewed with increasing force.)

PHOSPHOROS. What do you say, wretched man?

THE SERVANT. Yes, she has disappeared without leaving a trace. Some say she is in hiding in the refuge of the basilica, others say with her sister Cadmea. Others again believe her dead!

PHOSPHOROS (seizing him by the throat). Liar!

THE SERVANT. Master, have pity on me. I have been able but to note the rumours that are circulating. I have come to save your life at the peril of my own. Do not blame me for what is not my fault.

PHOSPHOROS. Of what use is your accursed news to me? You should not have come without Cleonice! (The servant goes away.) Let the Fates deprive me of my earthly conquests: my city, my phalanx, my brothers in arms and my last refuge; let them hew off my branches, slay me, and leave me naked on the ground like a stripped tree. . . . They have the right to do all this; but they have no right to rob me of my divine conquest . . . the soul and the body of Cleonice!

HERAKLIDOS. But who says they have taken her from you?

PHOSPHOROS. Then why is she not here? Disappeared! Dead! Violated perhaps! and unburied! ... Hear how this wind hisses and how this thunder roars! God, mankind and nature are in league against the children of Lucifer. The very elements have made a pact with Caesar and the Church, and the tempest at their bidding has borne the soul of Cleonice far from Phosphoros!

HERAKLIDOS. Let the tempest rage; it is not everlasting. It is the will of God and the purpose of the unknown sages who watch over the earth—that no power in the world shall be able to part the daughter of Christ from the son of Lucifer!

PHOSPHOROS. Show her to me then! Can the hurricane restore to me her voice or the boundless sea her face? Cleonice gone without a trace? Nought is left to me but the abyss which swallowed up my Guardian Spirit, and I go to join him!

(He walks, as if dazed, towards the chasm.)

HERAKLIDOS (barring the way with his sceptre). As long as I wear my tiara as a Hierophant and bear my sovereign sceptre, you shall not pass. (He catches him by the arm and shakes him.) Come to your senses, madman! Do you not feel coming towards you a great soul who is seeking you through all the chaos of the elements? Listen. . . . Listen to that human voice that sounds through the turmoil. . . .

VOICE BEHIND THE SCENE. Phosphoros! Phosphoros!

PHOSPHOROS. Light! I hear my living Star!

THE SERVANT (leaning forward from the ledge of the Temple). Torches! Torches! They are coming up, they are coming up!



THE SAME, CLEONICE, followed by two mountain men carrying torches. She rushes forward under the porch, breathless and dishevelled.

CLEONICE. Where are you? Where are you?

(In the centre of the scene she comes upon Phosphoros. They stand facing each other for a few seconds.)

PHOSPHOROS. Is it you, Cleonice, my Star human and divine? My city, my earth and my heaven, my hell and my paradise!

(Cleonice throws herself with a cry into his arms. At the same moment a thunderbolt strikes the top of the Temple with a sharp impact.)

CLEONICE. Thunder as thou wilt, Jehovah. . Paradise is regained!

(The thunder peals and is re-echoed far off.)

PHOSPHOROS. Soul of my being! It is wonderful to embrace beneath the fire of heaven. I had thought you dead! False doubts of Love and you!

(From now on the storm ceases completely. Dawn begins to break with a wan light.)

CLEONICE. I came nigh to perishing in the raging city, beneath the wreck of our house, by the side of noble Damis and the few last faithful ones. Tears, pity, horror, despair all urged me to die . . . but you were far away. Through all the fury of the storm I have succeeded in joining you. Now God himself will no longer be able to part us.

PHOSPHOROS. Do you not shudder before your tragic destiny?

CLEONICE. I have chosen it, my Phosphoros, and I love it above all others. Under the maledictions of the whole world, you shall learn the greatness of my love. It is now that the consecrated Virgin of the Desert will kindle the brands as your Beloved and the torches as your Wife. Yes, I swear it before the great Initiate, before the wise Hierophant in the Temple of the Unknown God, face to face with the Sphinxes of the Eternal Mystery . . . whose veils are beginning to part.

PHOSPHOROS. 0 Cleonice, in this awful and hallowed spot, your stature seems to grow. Here, between the torches and the lightning, you come before me like a new bride ready for a new marriage.

CLEONICE. Yes, a new marriage in the extremity of sorrow, deeper than that in the extremity of joy.

PHOSPHOROS. But where shall we live? Without a native country? Without hearth and home? Caesar’s sceptre extends from the Pillars of Hercules to the Indian Ocean, from the snows of the Sarmatian Mountains to the sands of Ethiopia.

CLEONICE. We shall carry within our hearts an everlasting home.

PHOSPHOROS. From city to city we shall have to drag our martyrdom.

CLEONICE. From your Promethean cries an avenger will be born.

PHOSPHOROS. The Virgins will weep on hearing your sea-nymph’s music.

(They take each other’s hands and turn towards the Hierophant.) PHOSPHOROS AND CLEONICE (with one voice). The outcast pair salute thee, Heraklidos!

(They kneel.)

HERAKLIDOS. Though the whole world curse you, Heraklidos blesses you in his Temple! Preserve your faith intact in the riot of hostile towns, in the silence of torrid deserts. Hope on against every fear, believe still against every disaster, love on with a love stronger than death. The world whose hatred stifles you to-day will acclaim you one day as liberators, and from the bosom of the seas the city of the future smiles to you like a shining island. (He kisses them on the forehead and raises them.) Betrothed of Exile, rise now as Spouses of Eternity. But before departing hear what the voice from above has said to me: ‘If you wish the seed of your life to yield a human harvest, if you wish the city of your dreams to come forth from your example, you must light a holocaust’ . . . Thus the voice spoke to me.

PHOSPHOROS. What holocaust?

HERAKLIDOS. I know not. It is for you to find the altar, the fire and the offering. By burning it you will rescue this threatened Temple, and from the sacrifice will come forth the sign of fulfilment. . . .

PHOSPHOROS AND CLEONICE (with one voice). The sign of fulfilment!

PHOSPHOROS. We will seek. . . .

CLEONICE. We will find. . . .

(They extend their hands towards Heraklidos in a gesture of farewell.)

PHOSPHOROS (putting his arm round Cleonice’s shoulders and wrapping her in his cloak). Come beneath the cloak of exile!

CLEONICE. Let us start!

PHOSPHOROS. Whither shall we go?


PHOSPHOROS. To the cradle of our love?

CLEONICE. To the holocaust!

(Just as they are about to go out they are stopped by two mountain men bearing torches. Day is breaking.)

FIRST HIGHLAND MAN. Do not descend the mountain. It is encircled by a legion!

SECOND HIGHLAND MAN. A band of soldiers is on the way up towards this Temple. With them is the Bishop of Dionysia, and they are advancing with cries of ‘Death to the children of Lucifer!’

HERAKLIDOS. The overbold priest! He dares to track you even into my very sanctuary! It is the first time that any priest has violated my solitude and defied me on my own mountain. They mean to catch the eagle with his eaglets, to throw the eyrie into the abyss. But the father will stand by his children and God will protect His Temple. Stay here; I will stop them. . . . Rather than let a hair of your head be harmed, I will bring forth flames from the ground and send boulders to hurtle down from the mountain top!





PHOSPHOROS (aside). The legions led on by the Bishop . . . the mountain encircled. . . .

CLEONICE (aside). No way of escape . . . no refuge . . . we are lost. . . .

(They look questioningly at one another as if to read their thoughts in one another’s eyes. Phosphoros draws his sword to show that he means to defend her; Cleonice bows her head, chilled with horror.)

PHOSPHOROS (aside). Thus the inexorable Fates have cast their net and are about to envelop us in its meshes. Caesar and the Church are coming to grasp their prey in the Temple of Truth. Son of Lucifer, this is thy last fight! My Guardian Spirit has sunk; the Star is quenched. . . . How shall I defend myself? (He walks over to the black sphinx.) Answer, thou my last witness, black Sphinx with wings of darkness, give me the ultimate counsels of despair!

CLEONICE (aside). So, then, even exile, even the desert is closed against us! I shall see no more my serene Thebaid where Christ would appear to me. Is there then no refuge left for the children of Lucifer? Now they are trapped between the jaws of the abyss and the approach of their mortal enemies. Oh! those prophetic voices! What did they forecast? What did they want of us? What is this holocaust? (She turns towards the white sphinx.) Answer, 0 luminous Sphinx, thou whose wings are gleams of white, now is the hour of the supreme revelation! Show us the right path. . . .

(The Roman trumpet call is heard very far off.)

PHOSPHOROS. Do you hear the trumpets of our enemies? I cannot stay here. My sword grows impatient. Before I die I will make a hecatomb of these cowards!

CLEONICE. Stay! What could you do against so many assailants? And what would become of me after your death? Dragged as a captive to Dionysia, insulted by the mob, imprisoned by the Bishop or handed over to Caesar? No, Phosphoros, the time of human hecatombs has gone by for us. (Prompted by a sudden inspiration.) By the blood of Christ, I understand now! I know, I see, I feel the truth! The path of light gleams before me! Phosphoros! Phosphoros! Listen to me. That voice that spoke to the Hierophant, did it not say: ‘The children of Lucifer shall save the Temple by kindling a holocaust?’


CLEONICE. Well, I tell you, I your prophetess, that this sacrifice is ourselves!

PHOSPHOROS. Ourselves!

CLEONICE. The voice of the highest Love is the voice of God, the cry of the Soul towards the Infinite, and the reply of the Infinite within the Soul. Just now I called upon God, He has answered me with the ultimate certainty. He said to me:

‘There is no truth but in love and in death!’

PHOSPHOROS. To die? When the blood of youth is still throbbing in our veins? Without having drunk the cup of life to the full?

CLEONICE. Like the fumes of the sacrifice, our resurgent souls will ascend to heaven on the flames of the holocaust.

PHOSPHOROS. To die when my sword still quivers unappeased at my side? When the task to which we have set our hands is in ruins?

CLEONICE. We shall vibrate through infinite space, and by the sacrifice our task will be fulfilled on earth.

PHOSPHOROS. To die when the wonders of Love are widening your eyes like deeper skies on unknown seas?

CLEONICE. There are mightier wonders still in store for us. Do you not feel that death can only unite us more ardently?

PHOSPHOROS. Whither will you lead me, terrible prophetess, my bride in marriage and in death?

CLEONICE. Into my own kingdom . . . where there is neither obstacle nor barrier nor bounds . . . where free at last we shall mingle our souls like two meteors in a starry sky! . . .

(They clasp each other again and exchange a long look. Their lips seek and touch each other.)

PHOSPHOROS. What bitterness and what sweetness on your lips? What a strange dawn in the darkness of your eyes! Your kiss of ice and fire has hallowed me for your mysterious kingdom . . . the air becomes rarer about me . . . the fetters of earth slip from me. (The trumpet call is heard near by. Phosphoros tears himself from Cleonice’s arms and waves his sword.) Yes, then, let us die together, but let us die gladly, like true children of Lucifer! The world means to crush us? Let us liberate ourselves. It means to part us? Let us unite for ever. Death is pursuing us. Let us go to meet him. God demands a holocaust? Let us offer to him proudly, like a festival, the flower of our two lives and the heroic dream of our souls! Let us pass through the Night of Death towards a nobler day!

CLEONICE. Are you ready?

PHOSPHOROS. I am. Lead me.

CLEONICE (drawing from her bosom a golden phial). Look at this phial. It contains the supreme remedy. It came to me from a Phrygian woman whom long ago I freed from slavery. Its essence is a powerful narcotic. It leads into my kingdom through the limbo of everlasting sleep. . . . Do you understand? Such is the will of the Almighty. . . . See how the cups of liberation flash on the altar!

PHOSPHOROS. Let us drink then unflinching the cup of deliverance!

(Cleonice pours the essence into the cups, gives one to Phosphoros, and takes the other.)

CLEONICE. I drink to Phosphoros the Light-bearer!

PHOSPHOROS. I drink to Cleonice, my Winged Victory!

CLEONICE. To the divine Dream of our life!

PHOSPHOROS. To Love triumphant!

CLEONICE. To Dionysia!

PHOSPHOROS. To Eternal Life!

(They drain the cups at the same moment. At once Cleonice reels and falls into Phosphoros’s arms, with her head thrown back.)

PHOSPHOROS. Cleonice! Do not go without me! . . . Your wide eyes fixed upon empty space, Oh what do they see?

CLEONICE. Ah! This journey from world to world . . . with you! . . . I see . . . I see the Cross of Christ shining through the Star of my Lucifer!

(Both sink on to the steps of the altar.)

CLEONICE. The sign! . . . (Her head falls forward.)

PHOSPHOROS. The fulfilment!

(They die.)




HERAKLIDOS (entering from the right and noticing the bodies lying on the altar steps). The holocaust!

CENTURION. They are dead!

BISHOP. They are brought low!

HERAKLIDOS. They are victorious! For they have loved and struggled to the end. Blessed are those who have believed in their dream: they will possess it.

BISHOP. The wind of the desert will sweep away their ashes and God will erase their names from the memory of men.

HERAKLIDOS. The Temple will preserve their tomb. From the depth of these holy solitudes, their high love will shine out upon mankind like a torch of the free city!

BISHOP. Take up these two corpses and drag them to the gibbet before the populace of Dionysia! And then we shall return to throw down this Temple from top to bottom, as we have done with the Temple of Dionysos!

HERAKLIDOS. Take care! Keep your profane hands from those bodies scantified by the holocaust of Love! Beware of touching my sceptre with your crozier. This Temple is not one of those which you can shake. . . . Beware of the God Whom you know not!

BISHOP (to the hesitating legionaries). Seize those corpses.

(Just as the legionaries draw near, the flaming Star appears above the lovers. At its core gleams a fiery Cross. At the same moment a flame rises from the altar beneath which the bodies lie clasped. The legionaries draw back in alarm and fall on their knees.)

BISHOP (drawing back a step, terrified). What is that? (He drops his crozier.)

HERAKLIDOS. That is the Sign of the Times to come—the Cross of Christ upon the Star of Lucifer! How it burns, the fiery Cross at the core of the flaming Star! Thus these two transfigured souls are fused into flame in the infinite. By their sacrifice, Heroic Love has regained divine Wisdom; the Rebel Angel has found again his lost Star. And now, Bishop, in the name of the Almighty who has manifested Himself here, take up your crozier and go tell your people what you have seen in the Temple of Truth. . . . True heroes will come here to kindle their torches, for from the children of Lucifer has come forth an inextinguishable flame!

(Heraklidos extends his sceptre over the dead couple lying under the flame on the altar; the Bishop stands petrified, the legionaries remain kneeling, and the curtain falls on the flaming vision of the Star and the Cross.)


Children of Lucifer