Way Of Bright Hope

The Fundamentals:

Be a Witness, oh reader, of the glory of morning.
Be not a mere Observer of the holy radiance.
Hope is to be spread by Word and Deed.
Practice, servant of the light, the fundamentals of your station.
Practice your tongue and the Divine Articulation of the old speech, which is pleasing to the heavens. Through such practice will you utter the holy phrases with swiftness and elegance, and not with the belabored slowness of a man blinded by dawn.
Practice your body and the Somatic Mastery of graceful gesture. To convey hope is a total act, encompassing one's whole. Neglect not the errant finger, nor the misplaced foot, for heaven's watchfulness notes all. Through such mastery will you artfully perfom the rites of dawn, with a briskness suitable to a servant of the bright lord.
To serve is no less difficult than to master. Practice, servant of Ereal, and servant of Ereal's children. For mastery of servitude is the foundation of all.


Parable of the Seeds

During the plague years of Tulcas' reign, a woman approached the prophetess carrying the body of her dead child. The woman wailed and cried piteously, asking for the prophetess to restore her son's life. Thus did the grieving woman prostrate herself before the prophetess, tugging upon her robe and beseeching the prophetess and Ereal for this boon.
Ever patient, the prophetess laid a hand upon the woman's forehead and spoke.
"Do not bow before a mere servant. This task I shall perform for you, should you bring me a handful of spelt seeds."
At this, the woman gave out a cry and stood, proclaiming that she will procure the seeds immediately.
The prophetess raised a finger to calm down the woman's outcry, and continued. "However, these seeds must come from a household that has not suffered from death and loss."
The woman was undeterred by this condition, and set forth immediately unto the streets to find what was requested. From door to door she want, knocking and speaking of her lost son and asking for but a handful of spelt seeds. At nearly every door, she was answered, and many families were willing to offer up some seeds to restore the woman's lost child.
But each time, when the woman asked if that household had suffered a loss, the conversation darkened. Each family recounted to her a tale of death, of loved ones passed away and buried. Though she set off in the morning, by sunset the woman had not found a single house which has not been touched by misfortune. Instead, she bore witness to tears and pained faces, to reluctant stories and outpourings of woe. Thus did she pass the hours until Ereal hid his face from the world.
Putting away the selfishness of her request, the woman buried the body of her babe. Returning to the prophetess, the woman took refuge in her and found comfort in the sun's light, which is the balm which will soothe the pain of all troubled hearts.
turn


On Meditation

Quiet the mind, oh reader, for useless thoughts obscure the spirit as clouds obscure the sky.
Quiet the mind, oh reader, for the body is but a plaything of the thinking soul.
The man with a broken roof is not called upon to be the carpenter for another's home. The man whose wife has deserted him is not called upon to speak on matters of love and marriage. The man with a broken body and shaken mind cannot be called upon to provide succor and comfort to the faithful.
Tend to thine own temple, servant of the light, that you might better tend the temple of the world.
Fold your legs beneath you, and sit with the simplicity of a beggar.
Inhale, that you might draw in warm air and focus it within your center.
Speak the words 'Ego scandere montem.'
Then, 'Mons donex solum manet.'
Exhale, emptying your mind of all but the image of cerulean sky.
In such a manner will you repair mind and body.


Parable of the Poisoned Arrow

Upon hearing of the prophetess' arrival in Cair Coradon, the priests of false gods and purveyors of malicious philosophies composed a hundred queries to challenge the teachings of the first flame, Ereal. They gathered in the plaza of blood, scarred by five centuries of knives, and circled like a pack of indolent wolves.
The hundred queries were crafted with a sophist's cunning. Such was their genius that no question gave way to enduring answer; the very asking would elicit doubt and indecision. The few evident solutions were traps - a hundred further retorts were devised and memorized for each, daggers hidden in tongues.
These questions demanded that the prophetess answer as to whether the world was finite or infinite, whether the body and the soul were distinct or not, whether the unbeliever had a place after death, and many other subjects beside. No query was too esoteric nor too occult; many invoked the spectre of older heresies and faiths abandoned.
The prophetess and her companions stepped through the plaza of blood, whereupon she declared that she had no answer to the hundred queries. She waited for the uproar, the insults, and the jeers to calm themselves before she spoke.
"It is as if a man was wounded by an arrow thickly smeared with poison. The physician urges treatment, but the injured man instead insists to question. 'I would not have this arrow pulled out until I know of what name of the attacker's family — or whether he is tall, or short or of middle height — or whether he has one wife, many, or none.' Before knowing all of this, the man would die."
"Similarly, it is not upon these queries that a religious life depends. Whether such views or their opposite are held, there is still birth, there is old age, there is death, and grief, lamentation, sorrow, and despair. I do not answer these questions because they do not conduce to an absence of woe."
"What answer do I offer? I say instead that suffering is the cause of suffering. For this is useful."
Thereupon the prophetess departed the plaza and visited the homes of the sickly, the orphaned and the injured, where she attended to the work of Ereal.


On Morning's Insight

Ereal is the first flame, the fire which set the world alight. All who live are children of flame; although a man may range from dimness to radiance, every men retains this primordial spark.
Witness, servant of the light, the effulgence that marks men. For by divining the glow of a man's soul might you discern the maladies of the physical.
Gesture, oh reader, with your hands, drawing the visage of an eye. For the eyes gifted to you, alone, are insufficient.
Speak the words 'Saeci quoque sentiunt calorem solis.'
Thereupon direct your stare at the object of your inquiry. The adept will discern the manifold auras that mark a man's presence in this world, and thus understand what must be done to maintain it.
turn cod


Parable of the Scorpion

After the morning prayer to the radiance of dawn, the old man sat down by the river to meditate. As he did so, he saw a scorpion floating helplessly in the water. When the scorpion washed closer to a tree, the old man stretched himself out on one of the long roots that branched into the river and reached out to rescue the drowning creature.
As soon as he touched it, the scorpion stung him. Pained, the old man withdrew his hand. This repeated several times more until the old man regained his balanced and managed to save the scorpion, setting the creature gently on the riverbank. By that time, the old man's hand had become swollen and bloody.
A passerby who watched the entire incident called out, "Foolish old man! What is wrong with you? You are risking your life for the sake of an ugly, evil creature. Don't you know you could kill yourself trying to save that ungrateful scorpion?"
The old man turned and spoke calmly to the stranger, "My friend, just because it is the scorpion's nature to sting, does not change my nature to save."


On Morning's Vitality

There is but one sun, one source, and His name is Ereal. We, his humble servants, merely pass on the celestial flame.
In the ebb and flow of life, a man's essence may dim and his flame will flicker. When a man's life force is near spent, we humble servants may intercede and share some of our own flame.
Know this ritual well, oh reader, for it embodies the essence of our service. By sacrificing a portion of your radiance will you restore the radiance of another. Perfect this ritual, and the restoration will far exceed the sacrifice.
Grip in your hand a stone of amber, and take note of the light trapped therein.
Speak the words 'Crea meum medicum tui.'
Direct your gestures at the man whose flame flickers and wanes.
Thus will you know sacrifice and service.


The Three Precepts, Part One

In the same summer wherein the warlord of Markab was slain by the mercenary, Forcestis, a wounded child found her way into the pupils' retreat. As the prophetess was away performing the ten miracles of Remath, it fell upon the eldest student - Maud of the Parcines - to attend to the injured youth.
This he did, nursing the child to health and becoming her guardian. When the warmth of spring found the pupils' retreat, the prophetess returned triumphant and noticed the child amongst the students' ranks. Thus did the prophetess and Maud confer on the matter, in the shade of the olive grove.
"Those worthy of belief have relayed to me that the child's flame was on the verge of being extinguished," began the prophetess. "Yet, you brought light back into her life, breathed warmth into her body, and now sate her desire for knowledge."
"I act only according to your teachings," responded Maud the Parcine.
"You act as you will it," rejoined the prophetess, who then asked. "You have dispelled the darkness clouding this child's life. But can you from whence this darkness came?"
"An arrow had pierced her just below the collar bone, eminent teacher," said Maud the Parcine.
"Are you satisfied with that answer?"
The student thought on this, and replied. "I am not. I shall return once I have an answer worth repeating."
So it was that Maud the Parcine descended from the pupils' retreat to seek out the source of darkness.


On Morning's Energy

The one God's flame infuses all it touches with life. Without the light above, no plant will bloom, no bird fly, no fish will swim, and no animal nor man shall walk the earth. We draw in Ereal's flame with every breath, and when His warmth fills our lungs, we are refreshed and our life continues anew.
At times, a man might chill, their warmth dwindling from overexertion or fatigue. Be mindful, oh reader, of the states of others. Through this rite, you will share your warmth with the needy.
Carry a garnet, which contains the spark of celestial flame. Tap it upon the palm of your hand.
Speak the words 'Dona vim libero tuo.'
Next, tap the flame upon he who will receive this boon.
Only through sharing warmth will the children of the light survive the great winters.


The Three Precepts, Part Two

Maud the Parcine descended from the pupils' retreat with naught but his robes, his sandals and a bloodied arrow. Relying on alms and the bounties of nature, he made his way to the ruined village wherein the injured child was born, and from there to a hill fortress of those who razed the child's home. Auspicious divination and the kind warnings of strangers guided his path.
The raiders but reluctantly allowed the entrance of Maud the Parcine, for the students of the prophetess were famed throughout for their healing miracles. The student was guided to the bed of the archer who had shot the arrow, who himself was dying of a wasting disease. The archer asked for a boon to quell his pain in the final hours, and Maud granted him peace.
Maud then asked of the archer, "Why did you loose the bow upon the child?"
The archer's eyes were rheumy and distant in remembrance, but he replied with clarity. "I had meant to shoot her father." Soon, the archer felt the need to excuse himself, "Do not think of me as just a bandit, priest of the sun. I was a hunter once, of the respectable sort."
"Why, then?" asked Maud, with the patience he had seen in his teacher.
"Cruel misfortune befell me. The governor of Cair Cainen levied my sons into war, leaving me with none to attend to me in my old age. My wife was to leave me if I could not support, and my leg had never worked well since I was gored by wild boar." The archer broke into a ragged smile, "She left in the end, anyways."
Maud saw the archer's face clouded with pain and regret. He placed his palm upon the man's forehead and offered him the warmth of the true sun. "Embrace light and find forgiveness in the holy flame," he intoned, and the archer grew still and died.
Maud the Parcine left the hill fortress in peace, as he came. He was troubled for he found no answer to the prophetess' question, and again ascended the pupils' retreat to seek her guidance.
turn cod


On New Light

Death is not to be feared, for someday the World's time will come, and she will give birth to all her children. But until that time where the sons and daughters of Ereal will walk the Void with their father, it is our task, oh reader, to heal their bodies, to light their way, and to protect them.
Until the time of mankind's birth.
During the course of your service, many a patient will come close to perishing. These unfortunates may even become comatose, and beyond the reach of normal treatment.
To return these afflicted to the world, obtain a sun stone blessed by the faithful and glittering with the light of the true god.
Grip this sunstone aloft above your head.
Speak the words, 'Est revolutio mundi,'
Speak the words, 'Fit ex multis rotae.'
Maintain your grip upon the sunstone, lifting it ever higher.
Speak the words 'Sed quilibet in principio cycli,'
Speak the words 'Est nova lux semper.'
Next, lower the sunstone and point it towards the afflicted.
Thus, with the favor of Ereal, those on the verge of death might be restored.


The Three Precepts, Part Three

A month had passed since Maud the Parcine had set off to answer the prophetess' question, and he returned to shaded lanes and tended gardens of the pupils' retreat with an uneasy heart.
He met his teacher in the shade of the olive grove, and the prophetess saw the uncertainty in her student's face. Prompted, Maud the Parcine spoke of of what he discovered. He bemoaned his inability to find the source of the shadow which eclipsed the child's life.
"She was wounded by an arrow, it was true. And this arrow was loosed by a bandit, which is also true. But shall we say that the bandit was the source of the shadow?" asks Maud, obviously dissatisfied by the result posed by the conclusion. "There was darkness in him. But was that darkness brought about when his sons were levied to war? When his wife had decided to leave him? Or when a boar had gored him and made him a cripple? Perhaps it was all three, to varying degrees?"
The student continued in his speculation, "And yet, even if one was to answer that, what darkness brought the governor of Cair Cainen to make war? How legion are the factors that weighed in his judgment? And so forth with the wife, and with the boar. The branches of causation splinter endlessly."
"Thus," concluded Maud the Parcine in apology to the prophetess, "I failed to find the source of the shadow that clouded the child's life."
The prophetess nodded once. "Then, I ask you this. The shroud of shadow that would have snuffed out that young life was dispelled by a single kind act, by one of my students. The light that you wielded, can you tell me its source?"
Maud the Parcine answered without hesitation, "Ereal, the one true flame."
The prophetess then stated, "From this, we derive three precepts. The sources of darkness are innumerable. The source of light is but one. And darkness retreats before the light."
The student heard this, and was enlightened.


On The First Warmth

The children of Ereal have all inherited a reflection of the divine flame. Though the flicker of one's life may struggle against the wind, the calm of rest and nutriment will restore it.
The resilience of a life's flame, oh reader, may be augmented by this ritual. Through its performance, a man will speedily recover health an restore their vitality. The effect of the rite is truly dependent upon the focus of you, servant of the light. The warmth proferred by a novice is fleeting; that given by a master is long-lived.
To grant this boon, hold in your hand a topaz gem.
Rub it between the palms of both hands and take note its texture.
Speak the words 'Lux reflectitur in omnes.'
Gesture at he who would receive your warmth.
In such a way will you nurse to health even a flickering candle.


Three Prayers of the Faithful

Ereal you're my guiding light
My guard throughout the day and night.
I am a child born of you and World,
of whose Light and Rock I was unfurled.
My Father of Light and my Mother of Earth
Let me rise this day to show my worth.

In the early morning,
With Ereal's first rays,
All of His children
Wake to pray and praise.
In the mid afternoon,
Within Ereal's bright sunshine,
All of His children
Work for their Father divine.
In the darkened dusk,
With Ereal's weary rest,
All of His children
Fall to sleep, knowing they're blessed.

Thanks be to Ereal,
the Father of our World,
Praise be to Him,
From whom all blessings emerge.


On Sunrise

Know, oh reader, that the world is home to horror.
Know, oh reader, of the danger of lament, of shadow, and of heretic.
Fortify the temple of your body and the ramparts of your mind. The ritual of Sunrise overcomes the darkest hours, enabling resilience to the most horrific of stunning shocks. Neither pain nor woeful image shall deter the righteous man.
To work this protection, obtain a piece of coral stone, wrought as it is from the stuff of life.
Rub the coral between your hands until you are intimately familiar with its dimensions.
Speak the words 'Tamen unus est deus.'
Point your finger at he who would receive your protection.


Parable of Fear

Take note, dear reader, that this tale has been drawn from the Time of Darkness, when Ereal briefly turned his back upon the world.
The boy emerged from the viper's nest, a man.
His hands oozed red, shaking. In the chamber behind him, flies crawled over the body of his mother. He recalled her smiles, of course, and her tight and protective embrace. He recalled how she smiled upon him, her favorite, even as his older brother writhed on the ground, mouth frothing with poison.
How she shadowed over him, then! A white, sharp smile in looming silhouette. The boy's eyes did not dare leave her face, despite the sickly and choking sounds from the floor.
She terrified him. Now, no more.
The once-boy, now Prince, ascended the many steps of the temple of Setebos. He carried with him a bowl of hearts, piled and slick. Each one once belonged to a courtier, a noble, or a priest. He recalled how these men of station whispered behind his back, how they plotted and met at night thinking themselves unseen. Whilst the sun still shone, they smiled at him with eyes full of daggers.
The Prince imagined how he had looked to them; he was a boy too young and thin for the feathered mantle to sit easy. He could smell their ambition, a stomach-turning stench that made the very halls of the palace unbearable.
They terrified him. Now, no more.
The Prince laid out his offering before Setebos, Defiler of All. He raised a dagger of red-speckled black and called together warriors, grim men wearing furs and scales and feathers. They came to him, filling plazas, overrunning bridges, and deafening the city with their clamor.
He knew the doubts infesting their thoughts, the rumors that spread with subtle susurration. He feared the idle warrior, the long empty hours of the barracks, and the chatter of the passing shift.
His own soldiers terrified the Prince. So he called them to battle.
The Prince's men fell upon the lands of Azun. Under the pale moon, hunched men dressed like swordcat, viper and peregrine clashed with sharpened obsidian. For six days and seven nights did fires burn over Azun, the canals clogged with the city's own dead.
The altars of Setebos ran red with victory.
As was custom, a wife was taken from the defeated peoples. The Prince, now King, celebrated his conquest, his marriage, and the birth of an heir. But he was not at peace. For in the lands of Fehcrata and Ugrit did new enemies stir, ancient nations aroused by the bloodletting of Azun.
The King met with their perfumed ambassadors. He heard not their words, silky things that lingered and left their sweet stench in the air. He saw only their smiles, expressions that never quite made it to the eyes.
The King remembered the smiles in his youth. The King remembered terror.
He marched, the golden standards streaming above his host, now swelled with slaves from Azun. He campaigned upon plains and mountain; both swamp and desert were marred by the rot of piled cadaver. Never had hungry Setebos feasted so luxuriously.
The King grew old on the battlefield. Rarely did he come home to see his wife and his heir. Indeed, the mother-son entity terrified him.
When the once-King, now Emperor, finally returned to the feather throne, he rode at the vanguard of an army unmatched. Dread heroes surrounded him, their mantles of war bedecked with skulls. In his wake shuffled ten thousand captives, heads bowed to the man who had laid them low. In the feast that followed, the music of sacrifice still shrieking into the night air, the Emperor sat alone.
He drank, and he remembered, and he thought.
And when he noticed his son at the foot of the table, staring up at him with wide eyes, did the Emperor recall his youth. The boy was terrified. The Emperor saw in his heir a mirror of his earlier self, caught petrified in the looming shadow of the world.
It was only when the Emperor's mouth began frothing that he reached out for his child, for the first and the last time. It was only when the Emperor lay still did the son make his escape.
The boy emerged from the viper's nest, a man.


On Dawn

The willful dawn rises day, without fear, without lapse, without hesitation. Be as the rising sun, oh reader, in the constancy of your faith. Be as the inevitable light, oh reader, in the firmness of conviction.
Grant this boon to offer one but a portion of dawn's willfulness.
Carry in your possession a stone of quartz, to harness the first light.
Grip this stone and touch it to your lips.
Speak unto it, 'Leni dolorem liberi tui pater.'
Then extend your touch to he who would receive your boon.


On Enduring Light

Clouds may pass and storms may gather and break. The rivers overflow and flood, and the earth dries up in drought. Seasons sear and freeze the world in alternate measures.
Through all this, the sun always rises. The sun, the one true god, is at the epicenter of all cycles.
We, humble servants, faint reflections of the divine glory, can but aspire to be as enduring. Perform this ritual, ye faithful, to grant the boon of endurance upon those in need of it.
Hold a sardonyx gem in your hand, a stone signifying strength and protection.
Touch this gem against your forehead, envisioning the blaze of morning.
Speak the words, 'Adiuva in actione liberos tuos.'
Point to he that would receive this blessing.
In a world of suffering and darkness, it is the act of kindness that endures.


Prayer in Motion

I pray to the sun
Oh Creator of us all
To invite in your eternal light
I stretch toward the sky
when you rise at dawn
To greet your face's light with my heart
I now reach down to touch World
Lovingly, adoringly
Where for She, Her body is also your light
I stretch back to my right
Toward where you rise every morn
To open up that side to receive your divine light
I then stretch back my left to meet my right
Whereupon you rest at dusk
To become full of your divine light
My forehead, chest and knees are to the ground
Oh, Sunfather
In prostration to your benevolent light
I arch and raise my head
Face brightened
To look in the eye of your radiant light
My feet and hands touch the ground
Where they touch on the energy
of your life giving light
I bring up my right
To receive more of your amazing light
My left again meets with my right
where my hands and feet meet
To receive fully your blazing light
I stretch back up to the sky
Ereal, comforter and father
To give my thanks for blessing me with your light
I say many prayers to you
Oh, Sunfather
For sharing with me your light


Healer's Creed

I pledge my life to the healing of the sick,
To the study and research of illness,
I vow to gather what knowledge Ereal allows
And freely share it with others of noble intent,
And, save by the will of Ereal, I will turn away none.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License