O Serapis, King of the Dead, Giver of Wealth, may my voice reach you in the depths of your chthonic dominion.
I am your humble servant, I who renamed myself Ixion.
Surely you are aware that all I have done was always, always in your honor.
The other adepts cast me from their circle, forced me to steal their papyri, so that I could build on their incomplete understanding of your arts.
In dreams, you told me how to refine the purpureal metal that would grant me divinity-with your blessing.
I ask you now to lend me the power to escape this indignity.
I gave you the girl, bled her at your altar and burned her in your hearth.
I freed her from her mortal tegument to reveal her holy energy.
Soldiers of the empire have me surrounded in your temple.
I beseech you to grant me the transcendence I sought from your arcane knowledge when they find me and cut me down.