Origins

Some people come to the occult. Others are simply raised inside it, and Alicia Taylor is one of them.

Astrology, palmistry, numerology, and other hidden knowledge: these were not discoveries she made in adulthood, they were pillars of her childhood. The stars and planets had a say. The hand could be read. Numbers were never only numbers. Her family has kept the same astrologer for as long as she can remember, consulted faithfully, year upon year, a turning of the chart as ordinary, and as needed, as the turning of the seasons.

Her Nana was a clairvoyant. Her name was Alma: Soul. She gave Alicia two things, and gave them often enough that they set like stone and have never since come loose. The first, to use her gifts for good. The second, that no matter how dark the hour, the light was never gone from the world, only waiting, and certain to return.

It would be difficult to write a truer account of the Great Work than the one a child was given at her Nana’s side. The descent, and the light that is its whole purpose. Decades later, Alchromancy would be built on it, on a sentence spoken by a woman named for the soul.

This house does not borrow the language of divination. It has inherited it.

The color came later, and it came the way these things do: not chosen, but arrived at.

Since 2013, Alicia has worn the same red: a deep, particular, blue-rooted red, kept without fail through every year since. It became the thing strangers stopped her to ask about. In a room, on a street, anywhere, the question was always the same: “What color is that?” She is a Leo rising. Those who have knowledge of these things will understand exactly why that makes sense. Her hair has always spoken before she did, even as a little girl with a wild mane of curls. It did, and still does, the work of a sigil: a mark worn openly that tells the world something true about the one who wears it.

Thirteen years she wore the color before the day arrived to carry it past herself, out of one life and into many.

That is the whole origin of this house.

Alicia knew what that red cost her: the years of it, the price of keeping it true at the chair. And she came to believe that a transformation this elemental should not live behind a single, narrow door. Not kept for the salon alone. Not rationed by how often a person can return to it. Color this considered should be luxury in its making, and still within reach. That is what Alchromancy was built to do: to take something rare and hold the door open wider.

And thus Alchromancy publishes color elixirs: finite, numbered editions, each one a stage of the alchemical Work, each one an instrument for a change the wearer has chosen, not unlike our ability to choose our own path in life. Crow’s Head is the descent, the turning inward. Roseblood, that same blue-rooted red, is the reddening, the emerging into something new. The name holds the intention plainly: alchemy, chroma, and -mancy, the old word for divination. The reading of what is to come, in color.

Color is revelation, not concealment. Alicia learned it from a mirror, and from a color worn so long, and asked after so often, that the asking became its own kind of proof. Alchromancy exists to hand that to you: the instrument, the rite, and the door, open at every stage, asking nothing, waiting only for you to decide how far to walk in.