There is an ancient adage that echoes through the halls of power, the stone-paved alleys, and the silent courtyards like an unappealable verdict: «He who has no saints in paradise pays the highest price.» It is the bitter maxim by which the profane world resigns itself to injustice, convinced that anyone devoid of influential patrons, shadow alliances, or high-ranking protection is inevitably doomed to fall.
Yet, whenever that phrase was spoken with reverent dread, Hermes Veneziano merely answered with a subtle, composed smile. His gaze would rest upon two sacred instruments that governed his worktable: a poised, two-pan brass scale, standing in absolute balance, and an antique hourglass of blown glass wherein golden sand flowed without ever quickening or slowing its measured descent.
«Let them place their faith in their earthly guardians and fleeting shadows,» Hermes would often remark. «Time is always a Gentleman. It forgets no debt, nor does it neglect a single spiritual credit. There is never a need to force the hand of man when one knows how to attune one’s will to the supreme laws of universal harmony.»
And precisely when the illusion of an obscure power seemed to have extinguished every ray of hope, a plea for help arrived from the ancient heart of Tuscia. A desperate cry, whispered like a stifled breath in the deepest dark.
Chapter I: The Shadow upon the Tufa of Viterbo
Our client was Amedeo Barzanti, a distinguished, longstanding notary whose historic chambers were nestled among the medieval stone edifices, weathered stairs, and solemn arches of the San Pellegrino quarter in Viterbo. An austere, meticulous gentleman reared in the immutable certainty of public registers, parchment archives, and unyielding duty, Barzanti had suddenly plummeted into an abyss from which no legal doctrine could extract him.
Years prior, without suspecting any malice, he had drawn up testaments and deeds that appeared irreproachable on the surface. In truth, those documents concealed the transfer of historic landed estates, secluded manors across the Cimini hills, and opaque fiduciary funds belonging to a black secret society. This was no ordinary gathering of corrupt opportunists, but a genuine occult brotherhood rooted among decadent black nobility, astray esoteric circles, and unsuspected figures of influence. They were an order devoted to insidious psychological coercion, subjugation rituals, and predatory acquisitions directed against vulnerable souls.
When the notary finally discerned the true nature of those conveyances and the illicit provenance of the shielded wealth, he attempted to raise an uncompromising professional refusal, declining to authenticate further transactions. At that precise moment, the vise closed around him.
There was no overt violence; the brotherhood operated through subterranean currents. Discreet yet relentless shadows began trailing his steps. Dark wax sigils were left upon the threshold of his chambers, anonymous letters bore ritual formulas of intimidation, and nightly telephone calls delivered nothing but hollow, suffocating breaths. The message was unmistakable: a man without saints in paradise had no right to disobey. Should he dare speak, his professional standing would be shattered, and he would be framed before the law as the sole architect of the entire design.
Barzanti could no longer sleep. Anguish consumed his vitality; he suffered severe memory lapses induced by unrelenting terror and lived under the suffocating impression that foreign presences were invading his thoughts, driving him toward self-destruction.
«Human law is blind here because it cannot perceive the subtle root of the tangle,» Hermes observed after assessing the matter in depth. «This society operates upon the psychic and etheric planes. To dissolve such a web, we must proceed along two complementary paths: restoring the inner sovereignty of the man through the power of the spoken word, and setting the axis of destiny back into motion through White High Magic. Ilde Garda will take his mind by the hand, while I begin the ceremonial Great Work of the lunations.»
Chapter II: The Voice through the Wire and the Weekly Encounters
The geographical distance and the pervasive surveillance imposed upon the notary demanded the utmost discretion. Barzanti could not leave Viterbo without alarming the watchmen of the society. We therefore instituted a rigorous protocol of weekly telephone sessions, scheduled every Thursday night at midnight across a thoroughly shielded line.
The delicate responsibility of rebuilding the notary from within was entrusted entirely to Ilde Garda.
Ilde Garda possessed the rare gift of wielding the human voice as an instrument of pure harmonic precision. Her vocal timbre was deep, serene, and enveloping, capable of bypassing the defensive ramparts of panic to commune directly with the innermost layers of consciousness. Through hypnosis conducted across the telephone wire, without the need for physical presence, Ilde Garda began dismantling, piece by piece, the architecture of terror that held the notary captive.
During their first weekly encounter, Barzanti’s voice trembled uncontrollably through the receiver. «Amedeo, attend only to your breath,» began Ilde Garda, her tone spreading a soothing mantle of silence through the cold chambers of the notary. «Do not attempt to fight, nor try to rationalize. They have fashioned a cage out of your own fears, yet the gate was never locked. Every Thursday we shall lift a veil, until nothing remains within your mind except your true, sovereign will.»
Week after week, the devotion of Ilde Garda wrought a profound metamorphosis. Throughout the first month of weekly sessions, deep hypnotic inductions dissolved the anchors of guilt and dread with which the brotherhood maintained its grip. Ilde Garda guided Barzanti into states of waking trance, teaching him to visualize the solid volcanic tufa of his native town as an impenetrable citadel, one that could absorb the impact of dark suggestions and return them harmlessly to their source.
As the weeks advanced and their appointments deepened, Ilde Garda transformed hypnosis from a shield of defense into a fountain of absolute lucidity. The notary, who previously shuddered at the mere sight of his filing cabinets, reconnected with his clear chronological memory. In profound stillness, led by the measured cadence of Ilde Garda, he retrieved the exact recollection of neglected deeds, suppressed preliminary contracts, and land-registry indices that fear had forced him to bury. He was no longer a hunted quarry; session by session, Ilde Garda restored to him the stature and fortitude of an incorruptible guardian of truth.
Chapter III: The Great Work of the Nine Lunations
Parallel to the weekly hypnotic restoration led by Ilde Garda, Hermes Veneziano initiated the monumental ceremonial work of White High Magic.
Hermes drafted no mundane complaints, nor did he seek profane shortcuts by forwarding dossiers to worldly authorities. White High Magic does not engage darkness with human wrath; rather, it awakens the primordial Light and restores the universal currents of cosmic compensation, allowing impure forces to collapse under the sheer weight of their own misdeeds.
It was an exacting, sacred undertaking requiring iron discipline that unfolded over more than nine consecutive lunations. Nine lunar cycles governed by celestial tides: at every new moon, Hermes operated to dissolve malefic ties and purify the subtle atmospheres enveloping Viterbo; at every full moon, he performed operative ceremonies of spiritual shielding, planetary equilibrium, and the invocation of Transcendent Justice.
In the stillness of the temple, while fragrant plumes of pure botanical incense drifted toward the vaulted ceiling, Hermes worked with circles traced with mathematical exactitude, sacred pentacles of purification, and prayers addressed to the angelic intelligences that govern Truth and Rectitude. Not a single word was uttered to the outer world; no worldly interference was attempted. Hermes continually nurtured the positive pole of vibration, grounded in the ancient principle that darkness cannot abide where light is kept burning and steady.
As the lunations turned, the invisible balance began to tilt. By the fifth lunation, the leaden heaviness smothering the notary’s home dissolved entirely. By the seventh lunation, fractures began to manifest within the black society itself: sudden internal feuds, mutual recriminations of betrayal, and growing paranoia among its leaders.
White High Magic was fulfilling its quiet decree: whenever the frequency of an environment is elevated, whatever thrives upon deceit enters into destructive resonance and crumbles from within.
Chapter IV: The Awakening of Invisible Causes
Once the ninth lunation had passed, with the ceremonial Work of Hermes brought to fruition and the weekly sessions with Ilde Garda having rendered the notary psychologically impenetrable, the subtle plane discharged its momentum into physical reality.
Events unfolded that profane eyes often mistake for sheer coincidence or unexpected strokes of fortune.
Without any direct summons on our part, state authorities and investigative agencies abruptly set themselves in motion. A routine tax audit conducted upon a corporate trust affiliated with the brotherhood exposed immense financial discrepancies. A highway patrol unit, during a nocturnal check along a quiet provincial road near the Cimini mountains, pulled over a prominent member of the lodge and discovered highly compromising material in his vehicle. An insightful magistrate, stirred by a sudden investigative intuition, resolved to reopen long-forgotten files that had remained shelved for years.
Within weeks, official inquiries broadened rapidly, converging toward every individual involved.
When investigators summoned notary Barzanti to clarify past transactions, they did not encounter the terrified, broken man the lodge had hoped to sacrifice. Thanks to the prolonged inner reconstruction achieved by Ilde Garda, Barzanti attended the inquiry composed, clear-minded, and authoritative. With flawless precision, he presented the chronological development of facts, produced the records he had preserved, and delivered an unassailable evidentiary framework that demonstrated his absolute integrity while exposing the extortion attempts he had endured.
The judiciary and enforcement units executed their warrants without hesitation. The leaders of the black society were apprehended in sequence. Their clandestine meeting places were searched and sealed, their bank assets frozen, and their network of complicity dismantled. Those who had long hidden behind their own arrogance, confident that their saints in paradise would ensure eternal immunity, discovered that before the manifest light of truth, every worldly shelter vanishes into nothingness.
Epilogue: The Verdict of Time
Serenity returned to the medieval quarters of San Pellegrino in Viterbo. The cathedral bells rang clear into the evening air, and the chambers of notary Barzanti once again became a sanctuary of peace, dignity, and honorable labor.
Once the mission reached its conclusion, a written message arrived, penned by the notary in dark ink upon fine parchment:
«To the mastery of Hermes Veneziano and the invaluable voice of Ilde Garda. You have dispelled a night that seemed endless. Your weekly encounters rebuilt my soul stone by stone, while the sacred cadence of your lunations brought down walls that appeared insurmountable. Now I know that whoever seeks justice within the universal order of things will never truly walk alone.»
Hermes placed the letter beside the brass scales. He took up the hourglass, turned it with a calm and deliberate hand, and watched the golden grains stream steadily downward.
«Observe, my friend,» Hermes concluded in his deep, tranquil voice. «The wicked place their trust in hidden machinations, believing that those who lack influential patrons are doomed to perish. They fail to understand that when the mind awakens through the wisdom of Ilde Garda and White High Magic restores the celestial balance, no deceit can endure. Those without saints in paradise may indeed tremble for a season; but when truth reveals itself, Time takes its place at the head of the table and proves, as it always does, to be an absolute Gentleman.»