April 12, 2025
Filed: January 15, 1947
Compiled by: Agent Caldwell, O.A.P.
Subject: Verse Resonance Interference, Raven Imagery, and Psychic Disruption
- Clara and Poe – Echoes of the Raven
Mirror Communication Log – Initiated at 04:12 GMT
Witnessed by Caldwell, Clara
CLARA: Edgar, do you remember the one they never let you forget?
POE: The bird… The knock. Yes.
CLARA: The Raven. It came from pain—but it lived beyond it. You made them feel it.
POE: I remember the shape. The rhythm. Not the words.
CLARA: Then speak what you can remember. Begin again.
[Subject Poe begins rhythmic composition. Initial lines match known fragments of “The Raven,” but language soon begins to twist. Rhyme dissolves into recursive imagery.]
POE (fragment): “And the silken, sad, uncertain tapping… rapping… wrapping…writhing…”
CLARA: Edgar? Your eyes—your voice is—no. This isn’t the poem.
POE: Something’s pulling it apart. I can feel his breath between the lines.
- Aleister’s Ritual – Verse Distortion Observed
Observation Report – Mirror Depth 3B
Filed by: Caldwell
A coinciding ritual event was detected at Crowley’s last known mirror vector. Local distortions indicate glyph-based incantation linked to poetic unraveling.
Crowley’s recovered verse:
“The poet lives within the cage / Each echo weaker than the page / Rewrite the quill, the ink shall run / And nevermore become undone.”
Result: Poe’s composition collapses mid-verse. Clara reports mirror fog. Subject Poe briefly speaks in tongues, then falls silent.
Preliminary Analysis: Crowley appears to be targeting Poe’s mnemonic architecture—using mirrored incantation to unbind his original works and dislodge rhythmic memory.
- Clara’s Rescue Attempt – Memory Restoration Protocol
Mirror Log Continuation – Time: 04:29 GMT
CLARA: Edgar, listen to me. You are not your echoes. You are not his ink.
POE: (silence)
CLARA: You were a boy once. A real boy. You played in a graveyard in Richmond and wrote poems no one read. You sat in the dark by candlelight after your mother died and tried to rhyme the ache away.
POE: (faintly) …candlelight…
CLARA: You loved Lenore. But not because she was perfect—because she saw you. Because she knew you were already fading.
[POE raises his head. Mirror shows fluctuation. Static distortion recedes. A brief pulse of rhythmic language re-emerges.]
POE (voice strengthening): “…And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain…”
CLARA: Yes! Keep going. Not for them. Not for her. For you.
[Mirror registers reverse flicker. Aleister’s influence appears to weaken. Veil resonance stabilizes to 81%.]
- Poe’s Reflection – A Life of Departures
Mirror Sync Entry – 04:33 GMT
[Subject Poe stabilizing. Language coherent. Emotional signature active. Clara present.]
POE: You want me to remember. Then here it is.
POE: My mother. Spitting blood onto the floor. My foster father turning his face away. My brother fading behind factory smoke.
POE: Frances, cold and silent. My wife—my Virginia. Her cough echoing in the walls. And Lenore… oh, Lenore. I was already burying her before I wrote her name.
POE: Every word I ever wrote was a gravestone. And every rhyme, a bell toll.
CLARA: Edgar—
POE: Don’t you see? My life isn’t written in stanzas. It’s carved into headstones.
[Mirror begins flickering with strobe-like pulses. Poe recoils, shielding his eyes. Clara steadies herself, the floor beneath humming with quiet static. Emotional resonance detected in grief-conversion spectrum.]
- Interjection – The Tiger of Echoes
Mirror Anomaly Report – Time: 04:39 GMT
Source: Echo Class Unknown
A second presence emerged in the mirror following Poe’s grief exposure. The temperature plummeted—Clara’s breath crystalized, Poe shivered. Symbols resembling Tang Dynasty calligraphy appeared across the mirror’s surface.
TIGER OF ECHOES:
“Grief is not the weakness of the warrior.
It is the shape of memory sharpened by loss.
He who writes in pain, writes with fire.
The enemy wants you to feel unfinished.
Become unfinished on purpose.”“The one who mourns must learn the mirror’s law:
To reflect a ghost is not to trap it.
To reflect a ghost is to name it.”
[Mirror resonance pulses in sync with Poe’s heartbeat. Subject stabilizing.]
- Journal Entries – Aleister Crowley (Mirrorbound State)
Private Fragment – Aleister to Himself (Unbound Location)
They think I don’t see it.
That girl—Clara. She is not just some clever empath. She is Lenore. Not the Lenore of his memories, but the Lenore of his lines. She carries his rhythm like a second spine.
Salazar thinks this is clever. A recursion loop. But I know what it really is: theft. I will not watch another god emerge from ink while I remain trapped in footnotes.
Let me be a god. Just once. Let me burn the page and write in smoke.
If I cannot outlive them… then I will outunmake them.
—A.C.
- Caldwell and Howell – Observation and the Side Character’s Question
Filed: January 15, 1947 – Internal Reflection Memo
Setting: O.A.P. Sublevel Archive Chamber – Mirror Node Echo Residue Present
The room was colder than Caldwell remembered. Not physically—but behind his eyes. Howell’s desk sat untouched, save for the open journal beside a cooling mug of black tea.
Caldwell ran a gloved hand along the journal’s edge. It trembled under his touch.
“If I vanish, let it not be said I was unwritten. If this story resets, I hope something in me lingers—inked in the footnote margin of someone else’s glory.”
He wasn’t listed among the casualties. He wasn’t listed anywhere at all.
Some said he walked into the veil. Others whispered Salazar had written him in just to delete him later.
Caldwell didn’t believe that. Not entirely.
He turned to a shimmer in the wall panel—not an official mirror node, but still faintly humming. For a moment, he thought he saw Howell’s silhouette. Watching. Not quite there. Not quite gone.
“You wanted to matter,” Caldwell said aloud. “And you did. You still do.”
He didn’t know who he was speaking to. But he kept the journal.
“You left a mark. That’s more than most.”
Outside, the mirror pulse resumed—steady, then fading.
8. SALAZAR Emergence – Visual & Sensory Addendum
When SALAZAR emerged, the air did not move—but it bent. Light curled inward like pages on fire, and shadows lengthened toward the mirrors. Clara fell to her knees. Poe’s eyes dilated until there was no white left—only void. A humming pierced the silence. It did not vibrate air, but thought.
SALAZAR:
“You want authors. You shall have revisions.”
His mouth did not move, but the words wrote themselves in steam on the glass. His reflection split into three, then one again. He looked like no one—and everyone.
Ink dripped upward.
Crowley laughed. Poe screamed. Then—lightless tendrils.
And silence.
9. Caldwell Postscript – Final Note Before Archive Freeze
Filed: January 15, 1947 – Private Archive
CALDWELL:
“This is recursion. It isn’t repetition—it’s meaning folding in on itself. Like memory losing its origin, or grief naming itself over and over. Poe is our poet, yes—but Howell? Ada? Even the Tiger? They’re all authors, too. They all matter. They all belong.”
“Salazar would rewrite them as footnotes. But I see them. And I will not forget.”
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