Beneath the Red Moon: The First Crossing into Romeria

For some weeks now, I have been returning to a realm that does not sit upon any earthly chart, yet feels older than memory itself.

Romeria is not heaven.
It is not hell.
It is a revealed underworld — a crimson threshold between worlds.

The book begins in a graveyard beneath a red moon. Not a Christian graveyard, not a place of repentance or salvation, but a field of ancient stone beneath a sky the colour of living flame. Ravenheart awakens there. He does not rise from death. He crosses into something deeper.

The soil is warm. The air tastes metallic and vital. The red above him is not punishment — it is ignition.

I have recorded the opening as a first-person transmission. I write it at night, when the mind opens its hidden corridors and the world grows liminal. I speak it aloud and allow the images to unfold as they will. The process feels less like fabrication and more like descent — a deliberate movement into the interior underworld.

Ravenheart is not merely a character.

He is the daemonic spark — not “demonic” in the vulgar sense, but daemon in the ancient one: the inner intelligence, the guiding flame, the forbidden masculine muse that refuses to be extinguished. The raven and the crow have always been birds of divination, watchers at the edge of death, guardians of hidden knowledge. Ravenheart carries that current.

He is illumination condemned.
He is sovereignty denied.
He is the spark that would not go out.

Romeria herself carries another lineage. She stands in the shadowed inheritance of Astarte, Inanna, Ishtar, Lilith, Hecate — the dark feminine currents that descend, that burn, that reveal. She is not a gentle ornament of devotion. She is flame wrapped in night. She is the warmth within the forbidden.

What interests me most is the reversal.

In our culture, red is danger.
Red is warning.
Red is sin.

Yet in Romeria, red is life. It is pulse. It is power without apology. The crimson sky is not a threat — it is vitality returned to its rightful place. What has been labelled infernal becomes luminous. What has been feared becomes fertile.

This project is not escapism. It is an encounter. A mythic exploration of the underworld as creative source rather than moral punishment.

When I step into Romeria, I am not abandoning this world. I am uncovering another layer of it — the layer beneath the polite surface, beneath the sanctioned narratives. The underworld has always existed within us. The mystic does not flee reality; he descends into its hidden architecture.

There is something undeniably esoteric about the process. The imagery arrives with coherence. The graveyard, the red moon, the shadowed beings, the sanctum of stone — they form a pattern older than the modern mind. I do not over-explain it. I enter it.

Ravenheart awakens beneath the crimson veil, and the journey begins not with conquest, but with awareness.

This is the first transmission from that realm.

More will follow.