Dew arrives at the lowest point. This is what the alchemists kept insisting on — not that descent is a prelude to something better, but that the mercurial water cannot reach inert matter anywhere else. The sepulchre is the specific address. You do not get the dew on the way down, or hovering at a safe middle altitude; you get it when the blackened body has nowhere further to go.

The Rosary woodcut's motto is precise in a way that rewards slowing down: the dew falls *from heaven* but lands in the *sepulchre*. Those two registers — celestial and funerary — are held together deliberately. The alchemists were not describing transcendence. They were describing what happens when something that has already died is washed rather than resurrected. The distinction matters. Resurrection implies the old form reconstituted; ablution implies the old form cleansed into something it could not have become by remaining intact. *Albedo* is not the nigredo repaired. It is what the nigredo becomes when the mercurial water reaches it — which only happens because the descent was complete.

The image asks nothing of you except accuracy about where you actually are.