Not true sacred magick. Cynical sleight of hand turns sweat and dreams, lives of desperation, even striving desperation, into neat bundles of greed. Demon flame, the pain burns through not content to be twisted into fast cars, high-stakes games, brilliant careers in glad-handing. Devil’s bargain wants its payment. False wizards of arrogant charm play with chthonic forces more angry and deadly than flame. Unaware of the cursed seeds they cultivate, strangling life force from below. Unsupervised children gleefully play with matches, grizzled and gray as some may appear, snigger, laugh at the bright spectacle as homes burn. The balance is always paid. Magick is never free. Will the lesson ever sink in? Be careful what you conjure.