Damn holidays! Almost a crime when is said by someone who was born on December 24th… but damn holidays. Is being hard to cast anchor and again I’m forced to leave. It is assumed that is what decent people with a normal life and those things do at this time… nevertheless, I don’t know what means (Gray-Haired and Stains, too). I pack while looking back; a gesture I forced myself not to ever repeat. Luz stays. Again distance. I barely stand… but she did not even know, I’m afraid.
1992 is the date of the draw of the first sketches on this character.
In 1993 first appeared in a book illustration and was entitled MALEFIC. The character is represented in only four illustrations, but its atmosphere pervades some of the content of the book. The book’s cover (the picture above), is dedicated to Malefic Luz wielding the sword, with his tears of blood.
I wanna tell you a little event about Luz. From when she was four years old and lived in Paris (the romantic so little romantic Paris of 2023), supervised by Nergal, who is also known by other names (we’ll talk about this later). Baal took her there for training until his trip to New York.
Here is a Christmas Greeting Card in case you want to use it and to greet your friends. In the bottom of the card, below the “AND”.. There is a line, so you can participate in the madness by writing your name.
Under this cold night I wish you friends a happy Apocalypse.
I present to you to Soum, Luz’s friend (she wouldn’t call her friend, but let’s leave it like that), with her slanted eyes, with the moon as a sign and source of life (the moon, you know, east, there are still many stories to tell from distant Dead Moon), with her several katanas extraordinarily tempered blades, all dedication in the sect of the 13 moons that exist in Tokyo, (I don’t know if you know it, is not easy a man could have spent even some short hours in that place, Pío Baroja and Yukio Mishima also knew this sect and their connections with the rituals in the caves of Zugarramurdi in Navarra, one day I will tell you about this female order so mysterious), her long black ponytail, with…
The large studio metal door listless complains when opening. It’s possible to glimpse the long, dark hallway studded with ghosts. We look each other; there is a soft reminiscent smile on our lips. The steps echoes resound as we walk and the lights flash while we wake up them one by one. The huge studio lights, yawning, with the fluorescent glare of neons. In the canvas, our angels and demons slowly stretches. Tired bodies shed their coats and the arctic breath of a sleepless Madrid slips through the door that gives access to the roof terrace. The first cigarette tastes like glory.