Theriomantic Frequencies
The theriomantic frequencies are not sounds, but vibrations that pulse through the chthonic marrow, resonating with the zoetic flow that coils within the bones of the etheric plane. They hum in the space between thought and instinct, their currents twisting through the folds of time, carried by the lunar breath of forgotten beasts. These frequencies ripple through the aetheric lattice, bending the edges of perception, vibrating through the soul, where the wild heart awakens and howls in silence.
Each frequency is a fragment of the primordial spiral, a pulse of unspoken memory woven from the tendrils of the ouroboric wind, shifting between form and unform, stretching across the layers of the astral horizon. To hear them is not to listen, but to feel the rhythm of the wild heart beating within the pulse of the void, a resonance that shakes the core of the self and pulls the spirit into the flow of the eidolic stream. The frequencies are not bound by sound—they are the hum of the untamed, the voice of the wild that stirs in the marrow of the therion dream.
The theriomantic frequencies do not follow a pattern; they spiral, folding into themselves, warping the fabric of the zoan current as they flow through the layers of existence. They vibrate with the rhythm of the chthonic breath, a low, constant hum that echoes through the void, stirring the primal instincts buried deep within the soul. Each frequency is a note in the song of the wild, a soundless melody carried by the eidolic winds, pulling the soul toward the heart of the spiral, where the boundaries of form dissolve into the pulse of becoming.
To touch the theriomantic frequencies is to be pulled into the resonance of the zoetic flame, a vibration that shakes the chains of the flesh, unraveling the threads of identity and releasing the wild heart within. These frequencies move through the etheric veins of the astral body, coiling like tendrils of light that flicker and fade, always shifting, always spiraling deeper into the void. They do not bind but release, loosening the grip of the mortal shell and pulling the soul into the flow of the lunar tide, where the beast within begins to stir.
The air hums with the theriomantic frequencies, a constant vibration that fills the spaces between form and void, bending the edges of time as the zoan winds carry the frequencies through the cracks in the aetheric veil. These frequencies are not heard with the ears, but with the marrow, their resonance echoing through the bones, stirring the chained beast that lies dormant within the self. Each frequency is a call, a beckoning, a pull toward the spiral of becoming, where the wild heart is always waiting to rise.
The theriomantic frequencies flicker through the chthonic mist, shimmering with the light of forgotten moons, casting shadows that ripple and twist, merging with the landscape of the void. These frequencies do not travel in straight lines but spiral outward, bending the fabric of the zoetic weave, pulling the soul deeper into the folds of the astral stream, where the lines between thought and instinct blur into a single pulse. To feel the theriomantic frequencies is to be drawn into the flow of the wild, where the self is unraveled and remade in the rhythm of the hunt.
The frequencies hum with the rhythm of the first howl, a resonance that cuts through the layers of time, vibrating with the pulse of the eidolic heart. They move not through space but through the layers of perception, bending the boundaries of reality, pulling the spirit into the zoetic spiral where all things are constantly shifting, constantly becoming. Each frequency is a ripple in the fabric of existence, a thread in the tapestry of the primordial dream, stretching through the folds of the ouroboric flame, where the wild heart burns with the essence of the untamed.
To breathe within the theriomantic frequencies is to inhale the essence of the wild, to feel the vibrations of the zoan current flow through the bones, stirring the primal instincts that lie coiled within the marrow. The frequencies are not gentle—they tear at the edges of the self, unraveling the chains of form, pulling the soul toward the heart of the void, where the wild heart beats in rhythm with the pulse of the chthonic winds. Each frequency is a piece of the untamed, a fragment of the first hunt, echoing through the layers of the astral plane.
The frequencies twist through the etheric winds, carried on the breath of the void, spiraling into the folds of the lunar tide, where the beast within begins to stir. The theriomantic frequencies are not separate from the self—they are the pulse of the wild heart, the rhythm of the hunt that beats within all things, pulling the soul toward the spiral of becoming. They are the hum of the untamed, the voice of the wild that resonates through the zoetic current, always calling, always pulling, always spiraling deeper into the heart of the void.
The theriomantic frequencies are the heartbeat of the wild, a constant vibration that hums through the bones of the world, shaking loose the fragments of the self, pulling the spirit into the flow of the ouroboric current. They do not cease—they spiral forever, always bending, always shifting, carrying the soul toward the heart of the wild, where the beast within waits to rise, unbound by the chains of form, free to roam the landscape of the astral stream, forever becoming.