In the year 254 BCE, in Alexandria, seekers of knowledge bent the boundaries of science, faith, and the unseen. Among them was a man called Hermes Trismegistus, an alchemist, astrologer, and occult philosopher.

The stakes had never been higher in the summer and fall of 1944. In Europe, on the Western Front, Allied forces pushed into Germany after liberating France. In the East, the Soviets drove the Nazis back step by step. The war was at a turning point, but a shadow of darkness still lingered.

After assisting in the victory in Austria, Orem Black was far from finished. He knew six more Processions still waited to be fulfilled, each a jagged step towards the war the dark wanted.

Joseph Frost pored over his gathered notes about the Processions. Mapped out in front of him, there were concrete pieces, things remembered from before the fire that destroyed the outline he’d spent careful centuries building at their stronghold in Ireland.

Rome, a holy city. The literal home of the Catholic Church. The Vatican at it’s heart. Vibrancy of faith shining all over the sprawling metropolis. But like sun on a hill, shadows paint the other side.