Night before last. I felt the call to my altar. I lit all of the candles, waving incense before my temple deities.
I settled in to meditate. I called to Azazel, inviting him to my temple. Eya On Ca Azazel Aken. Great king, come to my temple. Come to my temple.
I began to visualize the astral world. I saw Azazel’s sigil, which I embraced, falling through it… I felt that I was falling and falling, as if there is direction or movement in the void. Being in the void usually feels like falling to me, sometimes pleasantly, sometimes not.
I landed in the cave of my astral world. The same one where I have been with Lucifer, Lilith and Hecate. There were masculine feet next to me on the black sand. I reached out to grasp Azazel’s feet. I have never seen him before. I felt my body moving in thumping kinds of movements, as though various parts of me were thumping downward into the sand. I tried to reach again and again for Azazel’s feet, but I could not hold onto them for more than a few moments at a time.
Finally I realized I was processing poison. Poison is the black magician’s catalyst of transformation, the alchemical process of turning what is dross in me to gold. Then Azazel was bending to me and pouring the poison into my mouth, which I drank in big gulps.
I thrashed around on the sand. I could not figure out how to move. It felt like I needed to move in a certain way, to release… or to slough off… The cold sand against my back. The distant sound of dripping water as I struggled.
Finally Azazel bent and lifted me, cradling me against his chest as I thrashed, still trying to find the right movements to complete the process. I still could not see his face. Then he threw me back on the sand, and with the complete jarring of my being, I became still.
At last I felt it. The edges of my entire astral body, the container of the entirety of my being, becoming remarkably permeable. Softer. With a very pleasant give and take of energy.
I came back to my temple. Azazel was invisible again, standing behind my right shoulder, caressing me with his hand. I leaned into him, needing his soft touch, needing to consolidate the subtle transformation.
He caressed and caressed me, leaning against me slightly.
Then he was gone.
I still felt myself soft, penetrable, like I had become my aura. “Thank you,” I said, touching my third eye with my folded hands. “Thank you… thank you.”
Then, “I love you.”
Twilight in the Underworld 
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