HECATE HAS A COPYRIGHT OFFICE NOW Plagiarism, Originality, Artificial Intelligence, and the New Occult Inquisition
By Nemirion 71 & Fr. Asar Un Nefer
There was a time when occultism represented an encounter with everything that official culture preferred to leave unexplored, a territory in which inherited certainties could be questioned, ancient symbols could be reinterpreted, and the magician could build new languages from direct experience without requesting authorization from an invisible committee. Somewhere along the way, however, certain corners of contemporary occultism underwent a curious transformation: people who describe themselves as adversarial, transgressive, Luciferian, and hostile to orthodoxy began behaving remarkably like administrators of it, deciding who may approach particular gods, which symbols belong to which current, which experiences are legitimate, and which author supposedly possesses jurisdiction over ideas that were circulating centuries before any of us appeared.Apparently, Hecate has a copyright office now.
One can almost imagine it somewhere beyond the crossroads, a dim bureaucratic room where applications are submitted for the authorized use of torches, keys, serpents, cemeteries, black dogs, underworld imagery, and lunar symbolism, while Lucifer supervises trademark disputes and some exhausted Qliphothic official determines who currently owns the legal rights to the Abyss. The image would simply be amusing if this mentality had not begun producing very real accusations against writers, artists, publishers, and practitioners whose principal crime sometimes appears to be exploring the same ancient symbolic territory from a different direction.
The recent controversy surrounding Edgar Kerval and Sirius Limited Esoterica provides an appropriate example because plagiarism, artificial intelligence, pseudonyms, publishing practices, aesthetics, and metaphysical opinions have been compressed into a single narrative, creating the impression that all these things somehow prove one another. They do not. A dislike of artificial intelligence does not prove plagiarism, the existence of a pseudonym does not establish fraud, visual similarity does not automatically reconstruct the origin of an image, and disagreement with someone's magical methodology does not transform personal conviction into forensic evidence. Before discussing anything else, one principle should therefore remain clear: accusations require evidence, and the more serious the accusation, the more specific that evidence should become.
Edgar Kerval: Decades of Creation Rather Than Campaigns of Destruction
The portrait sometimes constructed around Edgar Kerval bears little resemblance to the creative trajectory that can actually be observed through decades of work. Long before the current obsession with generative artificial intelligence, he had already been involved in ritual music, experimental sound, occult writing, publishing, collaborative projects, and the development of unconventional magical ideas, building a body of work through music and books while maintaining relationships with authors, artists, readers, distributors, and practitioners across different countries and very different esoteric traditions. Those who have worked with Edgar over the years know him primarily through creation and collaboration. He has published material from people whose ideas do not necessarily mirror his own, promoted unusual authors, participated in collaborative projects, exchanged material with other practitioners, and consistently treated occultism as an open field of experimentation rather than a private territory that must be defended from neighboring systems.
This distinction matters because there is a fundamental difference between protecting one's own work and attempting to undermine the existence of other people's work. Edgar Kerval has spent years producing books and ritual music rather than building his reputation through campaigns against other authors. He has never needed another writer to disappear in order for his own work to exist, because his understanding of magical creativity has always been expansive: several currents can coexist, several interpretations can develop around the same entity, and two authors can work with similar symbolic material without one automatically becoming the thief of the other. There is enough darkness for everyone. The Abyss, fortunately, has not yet introduced zoning regulations.
Plagiarism Is a Serious Word, So Show the Evidence
Plagiarism has a meaning, and it becomes almost useless when stretched until it includes every resemblance, shared symbol, mythological overlap, or common piece of occult vocabulary. If an author has copied distinctive passages from another work, place them side by side. If a ritual has been reproduced substantially from an earlier source, identify both texts, their dates, and their relevant pages. If an original illustration has been appropriated, show the original and demonstrate the relationship. If a specific conceptual structure has been lifted from another author, establish the genealogy rather than merely announcing the conclusion. This approach is considerably less theatrical than declaring somebody guilty in advance, although it possesses one inconvenient advantage: readers can examine the evidence themselves.
Occultism is perhaps one of the worst possible fields in which to treat thematic similarity as proof of theft because almost every contemporary magical system is built upon inherited material. Hecate existed before modern witchcraft, Lucifer before contemporary Luciferianism, the Qliphoth before today's Left Hand Path publishing scene, necromancy before modern necromantic orders, and serpentine symbolism long before anyone placed a dragon on a twenty-first-century book cover. If shared symbolic territory automatically constituted plagiarism, we would have to indict almost the entire history of Western occultism. The courtroom would become crowded very quickly.
Queen of Hell Before Queen of Hell
The title Queen of Hell offers an excellent illustration of why historical context matters. Mark Alan Smith published a work titled Queen of Hell in 2010 as part of the magical current associated with his work on Hecate. Yet J. N. Williamson had already published a novel titled Queen of Hell in 1981, almost three decades earlier, and Williamson's book also placed Hecate inside an infernal and supernatural context. Does this automatically make Mark Alan Smith a plagiarist? No. And that is exactly the point.
A shared title does not demonstrate plagiarism. The use of Hecate does not demonstrate plagiarism. Infernal imagery does not demonstrate plagiarism. Similar mythological territory does not demonstrate plagiarism. To establish plagiarism, one would need to investigate the actual content and demonstrate specific dependence. The same generosity of interpretation applied to one author must be applied to everybody else. If an earlier Queen of Helldoes not automatically make Smith a plagiarist, then the presence of familiar occult themes inside somebody else's work does not automatically make that person a plagiarist either. Standards become meaningful only when they survive contact with people we dislike. Otherwise they are merely weapons. Hecate, meanwhile, remains several thousand years older than this argument.
ATLANTEAN DRACONIS: READ THE BOOK
This principle becomes particularly important in relation to Atlantean Draconis: Atlantean Magick, Lost Rites, and the Path of the Serpent, published under the name Nemirion 71. Nemirion 71 states unequivocally that he has not plagiarized Atlantean Draconis or any other book, and no documented side-by-side textual comparison has been presented to us demonstrating that this work reproduces identifiable passages or distinctive ritual structures from another specific publication without attribution. The book clearly identifies itself as Atlantean Draconis: Atlantean Magick, Lost Rites, and the Path of the Serpent, by Nemirion 71, published through Sirius Limited Esoterica, and its structure develops a particular synthesis between Draconian symbolism and an imagined Atlantean magical current. Its chapters explore subjects such as the Serpent Flame, Dragon Lords, Atlantean guardians, sacred words, vibrational practices, crystal magic, the Draconian labyrinth, star magic, gatekeepers, and the formula Nax Arak Nax. Near the end of the work, the relationship between its two principal currents is explicitly described as a process of creating a personalized living magical system in which Draconian force and Atlantean structure are combined through ritual practice rather than treated as a rigid inherited doctrine. Anyone is free to criticize that system. Anyone may compare it with earlier Draconian literature. Anyone may reject its mythology, terminology, historical imagination, ritual methods, or conclusions. But criticism is different from proving plagiarism. For that reason, we have decided to remove the easiest excuse available to anyone wishing to condemn the book without reading it.
The complete edition of Atlantean Draconis is being made available for free download.
DOWNLOAD THE COMPLETE BOOK WRITTING HERE:
[nganga404@yahoo.com]
There is no paywall between the critic and the evidence, no hidden initiation required, no claim that the material is too secret to examine, and no request that readers simply trust our version of events. Download it, read it, compare it with whatever source you believe was copied, and if plagiarism exists, provide the book, page, paragraph, publication date, and corresponding passage. That is how an accusation becomes an argument. Repeating the word plagiarism without doing this simply makes the word louder. It does not make it more accurate. There is also something faintly comic about the idea that the presence of serpents, dragons, Atlantis, abyssal imagery, initiatory ascent, or ritual gateways should automatically reveal theft, because if these themes belonged exclusively to whoever published them most recently, occult literature would require an archaeological excavation before anyone dared write another sentence. Someone has already written about a serpent. Someone has already entered an abyss. Someone has already dreamed of Atlantis. Someone has already invoked a dragon.Apparently mythology survived.
When an AI Detector Becomes an Oracle
The artificial-intelligence controversy introduces another contradiction that deserves examination because automated detectors are sometimes presented as though they possess powers considerably greater than their actual function. A percentage such as 97 percent immediately looks authoritative. Numbers arrive dressed as certainty, particularly when surrounded by technical vocabulary, yet an AI detector does not sit beside an author while a manuscript is written, does not witness drafts, cannot reconstruct months of revisions, and does not automatically know whether a passage has been translated, edited, rewritten, grammatically corrected, or developed through a combination of human and technological processes. It detects patterns,patterns may justify investigation and patterns are not biographies. The irony becomes particularly elegant when artificial intelligence is described as spiritually empty, untrustworthy, and incapable of participating meaningfully in magical creation, yet the moment a machine generates a percentage useful for accusing somebody, that same technological universe suddenly acquires an almost prophetic authority. Apparently the machine has no soul until it agrees with the prosecution. Then it becomes an oracle. The same caution applies to image-comparison systems. Software can detect visual features and similarities between images, which can be useful information, but detecting similarities is not identical to reconstructing the complete history of how an image was created. Technical vocabulary does not eliminate the need for logical restraint. Algorithms can assist an investigation. They cannot magically convert suspicion into history.
Technology Is Not Plagiarism
Edgar Kerval's interest in technology did not suddenly appear with the current generation of AI tools. Electronic sound, ritual music, altered states, experimental processes, symbolic systems, and technological transformation have formed part of his creative world for years, and his approach to magic has consistently treated culture as something alive rather than an archaeological reconstruction that must remain frozen at the point where another practitioner feels comfortable. Human beings have always incorporated technology into spiritual and magical practices. Writing transformed ritual transmission, printing transformed grimoires.photography entered spiritualism,r ecording technology transformed ritual sound,synthesizers created sonic environments that previous generations could never have produced. Computers changed how information and symbols move through the world. Artificial intelligence is another stage in that technological history, and its arrival raises legitimate questions about authorship, training, artistic labor, attribution, originality, and transparency. Those questions deserve serious debate. What they do not deserve is conceptual laziness. Using artificial intelligence and committing plagiarism are not synonyms, someone can plagiarize using a pencil, or someone else can use sophisticated software without copying a single sentence from another author. Between those two extremes lies a huge territory of translation, editing, conceptual development, visual experimentation, research assistance, sound processing, generative systems, and hybrid creation. That territory deserves investigation rather than excommunication.
The New Occult Inquisition
The larger issue behind all of this concerns a recurring transformation within small esoteric communities. Someone experiences a powerful current, builds a system around it, publishes books, develops followers, and eventually certain ideas surrounding that system begin to acquire the status of private metaphysical property.Then the universe starts becoming strangely small.
Hecate belongs to someone.
Lucifer belongs to someone.
The Qliphoth belongs to someone.
The Nightside belongs to someone.
Certain visions require permission.
Certain symbols need genealogical passports.
Eventually the occult world starts looking less like an exploration of infinite realities and more like a homeowners' association built beside the Abyss. The contradiction becomes particularly amusing when this happens inside traditions that proudly call themselves adversarial, Luciferian, antinomian, or transgressive, because an adversarial tradition that cannot tolerate independent interpretation eventually creates something magnificent in its absurdity: an orthodoxy of rebellion.
The rebel receives a rulebook.
The heretic receives instructions.
The adversary receives a supervisor.
Lucifer gets a badge.
And Hecate, naturally, manages intellectual property.
Integrity Is Demonstrated Through Conduct
Defending Edgar Kerval does not mean declaring him beyond criticism, because nobody engaged in serious creative work should expect that privilege. His books can be questioned, his interpretations challenged, his editorial decisions debated, and his experiments with technology rejected by anyone who finds them unconvincing. What should be resisted is the conversion of disagreement into moral prosecution. Those of us who have observed his work over the years know a man who has consistently invested his energy in creating and collaborating, producing ritual music, developing books, maintaining a publishing house, working with authors, communicating with readers, and opening space for material that mainstream publishing would rarely consider. Integrity does not mean perfection. It means consistency between principles and conduct. Edgar's principle has repeatedly been that magical work must continue developing, that different currents can coexist, and that another person's creativity is not a threat requiring sabotage. He does not need another publisher to fail in order for Sirius Limited Esoterica to exist. He does not need another magician to remain silent in order to develop his own work. He does not need to own an ancient deity in order to encounter her. This is perhaps the simplest difference between creation and territorialism: the creator builds something, while the territorial mind spends increasing amounts of energy deciding who else should be allowed to build nearby.
Nobody Owns the Abyss
We therefore return to the simplest principles.
If plagiarism exists, show the text.
If an image was stolen, show the original.
If an idea was specifically appropriated, document its genealogy.
If a historical statement is false, correct it with evidence.
If Atlantean Draconis is plagiarized, the complete book is available freely, so identify the source and demonstrate the correspondence. Everything necessary for a serious discussion begins there. What should disappear from contemporary occult discourse is the assumption that personal revelation produces universal ownership, because no magical experience, however profound, creates a private deed to an ancient symbol.
Nobody owns Hecate.
Nobody owns Lucifer.
Nobody owns the Qliphoth.
Nobody owns the Abyss.
We can own our texts, original artwork, distinctive formulations, and particular ritual systems, and those creations deserve respect, but an enormous distance remains between protecting one's original work and surrounding the invisible world with imaginary fences. Occultism should possess enough intellectual maturity to understand that distinction. Before preparing another metaphysical prosecution, consult the archive. Before declaring an ancient symbol private property, consult history. Before repeating an accusation, examine the evidence. And before appointing another occult inquisitor, perhaps remember why so many of us entered these currents in the first place.
We came to explore.
We came to question.
We came to create.
We came to transmute.
Hecate never applied for copyright.
The Abyss never registered a trademark.
Lucifer never founded an intellectual-property office.
Only human beings seem to require one.
Seek. Explore. Create. Transmute.
