Finding the Dragon Priest

Introduction

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Now the largest tourist trap in the world, boasting multiple theme parks, petting zoos, guided safaris, and dozens of dragon only art galleries, the Willamette Valley’s draw fifty years ago included Portland, wine country, and a launching point for visits to Mt St. Helens, Mt. Rainier, and Mt. Hood. Not a dismal, out-of-the-way place, but neither was it at the top of most people’s vacation list. The allure of the valley changed drastically on a cool, misty night forty-seven years ago when a then-unknown man began a slow trek up a steep, rocky trail at 10 p.m. on June 7th, 2022.

The path was slippery, made treacherous by the fine mist sifting through the tall canopy layer. The going was slow, and it was well past dark once the rhythm of the climb set in, and his eyes adjusted, giving his movements more confidence. It was half an hour before midnight when he reached the top of the trail, his destination, just enough time to set up. He began constructing an altar amid the blooming stream violets and fringecups. His favorite athame was placed on an earth-toned cloth with the blade, always kept sharp, facing East, and the polished hilt, carved with wild roses, facing West. He pulled out two dark blue candles, appearing black in the moonless light, and placed one on either side of the athame. Behind these, he gently sat a fist-sized ruby, his most valued possession, the symbol of the power he had cultivated. To all of this, he added offerings of incense and wine.

Construction completed, he knelt before the altar to begin clearing his mind in preparation for his task. This portion of the preparation took longer than he anticipated. There was a persistent twinge along the edge of his unseeing periphery that made it challenging to keep his eyes closed. When his eyes would open, their gaze was pulled toward the altar. Guided by intuition, he brought out a coffee cup-sized cauldron he had grabbed without reason earlier that day and undecidedly placed it on the cloth behind the ruby. The twinge relaxed, granting him space to clear his mind.

He was in position, before the altar, in his ruby-colored robe, flecked with water and mud, arms outstretched, when the hands on his watch met at twelve. His ritual began.

* * *

Herbert Cohen has not shared the details of his ritual with anyone. He had written it down in his journal as any practicing magician does; a way to record preparation, how the ceremony was conducted, and the results, much the same as a scientist performing experiments. The notes allow an analysis of the results and the ability to share practices with others. Unfortunately for the world, after realizing what his ritual had wrought, Cohen removed the pages detailing his plans for that night and burned them.

While we don’t know what happened that night, we do know Cohen’s intentions from journal entries that survived his purge, “…I feel my power and potential but have no direction. Two years of study have brought me great knowledge but no opportunity to develop wisdom.” Through my interviews with Cohen, conducted at Cohen’s home, where he remains under house arrest, guarded by a seemingly excessive number of federal agents, and through the study of his journals, I believe I have come to understand the man. It was never Cohen’s intention to summon monsters or open a dimensional portal; he simply wanted to find a direction to move in life. How that intention resulted in the manifestation of flesh and bone dragons is beyond anyone, even Cohen.

The ritual itself, what Cohen has shared, was nothing special, nothing that hadn’t been performed before. It was not new, it was not clever, it was not particularly powerful. Nor were Cohen's intentions as grand as those of Aleister Crowley, Jack Parsons, or L. Ron Hubbard. But unlike Crowley, Parsons, and Hubbard, Cohen’s magic changed the world; it redirected the efforts of science, fractured economies, created mass migrations, instigated the second Summer of Love, and wholly changed the human experience. We are still reeling from the impacts that night had on the world.

Cohen, understanding the potential this break in the veil held for science, global power shifts, and the human psyche, fled Portland long before he became a person of interest in the ensuing investigation. By the time investigative bodies reasoned, and finally believed, this was the result of magic and the doings of a singular person, Cohen was long gone, hidden away, praying to never be found.

The story that follows is the factual retelling of the events that transpired from June 8th, 2022 until the capture of Herbert Cohen by the United States government. It is a story about citizen and government reactions to a break in our collective reality. It is a story about forty-three man-hunts, all instigated by different countries, all looking for the same man, all hoping to use him for their benefit. It is a story about countless magicians and scientists who tried to understand and duplicate what Cohen had accomplished. Mostly, this is a story about a man who wanted control over his life but became the most wanted man in the world.