If you close your eyes and picture a demon, you might imagine wings and claws, fire and shadow, a creature born only for destruction. But not all the spirits that inhabit the old grimoires fit that mold. Some are more subtle, more strange, and in many ways more unsettling because of it. Among these is Andromalius, the seventy-second and final spirit of the Ars Goetia, the one who closes the infamous list of infernal names. He is not a fiery monster nor a horned tyrant, but a stern figure who walks with a serpent coiled in his hand, a manlike presence who stalks the guilty. His purpose, according to the medieval magicians who dared to inscribe his sigil and summon him into their protective circles, was not to sow chaos, but to punish thieves, uncover dishonesty, and return what was stolen. He is both avenger and judge, demon and lawgiver, and his story opens our descent into the hierarchy of Hell not with carnage, but with a whisper of justice, a reminder that even in the infernal order, balance must be maintained.
Andromalius has always occupied a peculiar place in demonology. The Ars Goetia describes him as a great Earl of Hell who commands thirty-six legions of demons, an impressive number, yet not among the highest ranks. His domain is narrower than the great kings like Paimon or Bael, but what he does, he does with terrifying precision. His job is simple: to track down thieves, to reveal who has taken what, to return goods to their rightful owners, and to punish the guilty. In some texts, he is also said to uncover plots, conspiracies, and treacheries, exposing enemies before they can strike. His serpent, which he always carries, is a symbol of cunning, justice, and vengeance, its coils winding like the inescapable trap of truth itself. This imagery, stark and simple, has survived for centuries because it speaks to something deeply human: the fear of being caught when we transgress, the dread of the unseen eye that sees what we try to hide.
The origins of Andromalius are shrouded in the mists of medieval grimoires, where so much of demonology took shape. The Lesser Key of Solomon, compiled in the seventeenth century, gives us our most detailed account. There, he is listed as the final spirit, almost like the period at the end of a long sentence. But that position is meaningful: he is the closer, the finisher, the one who ensures that what begins in chaos ends in justice. Unlike demons of lust, war, or greed, who tempt and corrupt, Andromalius waits. He lurks in the background until wrong has been committed, and then he strikes. His existence suggests a world where even Hell has rules, where even among the legions of the damned there are enforcers who will not allow dishonor to pass unpunished. That is a terrifying thought: not that Hell is chaos, but that Hell is order, cold and merciless.
Andromalius’s place in the hierarchy is also worth considering. As an Earl, he is not at the top of the infernal chain, but he holds real authority. His legions follow him not into conquest, but into judgment. Imagine an army of unseen watchers, spies who slip through walls and shadows, taking note of every theft, every betrayal, every secret plot. Imagine them whispering those names to their master, who then emerges, serpent in hand, to drag the guilty into the light. That was the fear of those who invoked him. The grimoire tradition is clear: to summon Andromalius was to risk exposure yourself. If you called on him to punish a thief, you had better be clean of theft, for he would turn his gaze upon you as well. This balance of usefulness and danger made him one of the most respected spirits in the magician’s catalogue.
Appearance is everything in demonology, and Andromalius’s appearance is deceptively simple. He is a man with a serpent. No claws, no flames, no monstrous hybrid body. Just a man and a snake. But what a powerful symbol that is. The serpent, from Eden onward, has always been the image of temptation, cunning, and hidden wisdom. In Andromalius’s hand, it is not the deceiver but the avenger, the winding justice that cannot be escaped. The man holding it is not wild or bestial, but composed, severe, and watchful. In some descriptions, he is almost monk-like, robed and somber, a judge rather than a warrior. This simplicity makes him all the more chilling. A monstrous demon you can recognize and fight; a stern figure who only watches until you slip feels inescapable. The thief cannot know when Andromalius will strike, only that he will.
His abilities, as listed in the Goetia, revolve around truth. He reveals thieves and their deeds. He uncovers hidden treasures, but only to return them. He punishes enemies, but only those who conspire unjustly. This is not the wild chaos of demons like Asmodeus or Belial. It is something colder, more precise. Andromalius is like the shadow of conscience, the weight on your shoulders when you pocket something that is not yours, the prickling on your neck when you speak a lie. He is not the one who tempts you into sin — he is the one who ensures you do not get away with it. For that reason, his image has endured. We may laugh at witches flying through the sky or monsters breathing fire, but we all know the feeling of being caught in a lie. We all know the fear of being found out. That fear has not faded with time, and so Andromalius remains relevant.
In cultural terms, Andromalius has not achieved the fame of Paimon or Asmodeus, but he has left a subtle mark. Occultists still speak of him as a spirit of justice, one invoked not for gain but for retribution. In literature and role-playing games, his name sometimes appears as a patron of bounty hunters or avengers, those who strike down criminals in the dark. In modern occult practice, he has even been reinterpreted as a kind of infernal Saint of Restitution, someone who can be called upon to right wrongs when human systems fail. Whether one believes in his literal existence or not, the archetype he represents continues to resonate. We crave justice. We fear punishment. We know that what is stolen should be returned, and that betrayal should not go unanswered. In Andromalius, that human need and fear take shape.
But how can he be defeated? The grimoires are clear: Andromalius, like all the spirits, can be compelled by the divine names and seals of Solomon. Summoners who drew his sigil within the protective circle could command him, binding him to their will. Outside of the circle, however, he was dangerous. The tradition holds that he respects the authority of sacred names, recoils from divine command, and can be dismissed by the words of power. That is the magician’s way. But for ordinary people, the answer is simpler, and more profound. To defeat Andromalius, do not steal. Do not betray. Live honestly, and there is nothing for him to punish. His vengeance is not indiscriminate; it is targeted. He comes only for the guilty. That makes him different from other demons, and in some ways, more frightening, because he forces us to look inward. He cannot be outsmarted with clever tricks, only with honesty.
In human terms, Andromalius is a mirror. He shows us that corruption eventually collapses, that lies eventually come to light, that theft always costs more than it gains. To outsmart him is to outsmart the shadow of guilt itself, which is impossible. To defeat him is to live in such a way that his judgment never falls on you. That is a sobering lesson, but also a hopeful one. Unlike many demons, he does not corrupt the innocent. He only hunts the guilty. His presence, then, is a strange kind of reassurance. If you live with integrity, he has no power over you. If you cheat, if you steal, if you betray, then he is already at your shoulder.
And so our descent begins, not with fire and fury, but with justice. The serpent coils, the man watches, and thieves tremble in the shadows. Andromalius stands at the threshold of Hell’s hierarchy, the first step on a path that will lead us downward through lust, greed, chaos, and pride. Each day will bring us closer to Lucifer himself, but here at the beginning, we are reminded that even in the pit, there is order. Even among demons, there is law. And if that does not chill your blood, nothing will.