A handwritten journal bound in bark and leaves, its pages made from pressed plant fibers. A faint scent of woodsmoke clings to it.
I write this for those who would understand the Circle—not join us, for that path is not chosen from a book, but understand why we do what we do.
The Circle of Verdant Flame is devoted to Faeren, the Wildfather, god of nature, balance, and the eternal cycle. We are druids, yes, but do not confuse us with gentle hermits who speak to squirrels and refuse to eat meat. Nature is not gentle. The cycle is not kind. And we who serve it must be willing to do what balance demands.
“Purity is Balance. Balance is sacred.”
This is our creed. Simple words that contain everything.
Consider the forest. When deadwood accumulates on the forest floor, it chokes new growth. When diseased trees are allowed to spread their sickness, healthy trees fall. The forest does not mourn the dead—it burns them. Fire sweeps through, terrible and purifying, and from the ashes new life springs stronger than before.
We are that fire.
When magic perverts the natural order, when corruption takes root in sacred places, when the powerful use dark arts to halt change itself—we act. We cleanse. We burn what must burn so that life can continue.
This does not make us destroyers. Fire creates as surely as it destroys. The seeds of certain trees will not germinate until touched by flame. The soil needs ash to nourish new growth. We understand this. We embrace it.
On Structure and Practice
The Circle has no kings, no rigid hierarchy. We are guided by the Eldergrove—a council of our eldest and wisest druids—but individual groves operate with considerable autonomy. We are bound by shared purpose, not by command.
Initiates train for years, learning to read the world like scripture. The pattern of bark. The mood of storms. The way water flows or refuses to flow. Nature speaks constantly to those who know how to listen.
Our rituals follow the seasons. We celebrate growth in spring, abundance in summer, harvest in autumn, and rest in winter. We tend sacred groves where the boundaries between worlds grow thin. We perform flame-dances to honor Faeren and seasonal burnings to clear the path for new life.
And when balance is threatened—truly threatened—we gather in force.
On the Other Faiths
We have complex relations with the Church of Elandria. The Lightbringer and the Wildfather were allies in the beginning, partners in the great rebellion that created our world. Elandria’s faithful honor nature in their way, blessing harvests and respecting the wild places. But they believe civilization improves upon nature, that light and order can perfect what the gods created.
We disagree.
The garden is not superior to the forest. The tamed field is not superior to the wild meadow. Both have their place, yes—we are not enemies of farms and cities—but neither may claim dominion over the other. When civilization spreads too far, when it paves over sacred ground and poisons ancient waters, we remind them that nature was here first.
And nature will be here last.
A Final Thought
If you have read this far, you may think you understand us. You do not. Understanding comes only from standing in the deep forest at midnight, feeling the pulse of the world beneath your feet, knowing that you are part of something vast and ancient and utterly indifferent to mortal concerns.
We do not serve nature because it loves us. We serve it because it is true. Because the cycle continues whether we acknowledge it or not, and those who understand it can help guide its course.
The fire comes for all things eventually.
Best to be holding the torch.
—Written by an unnamed druid of the Circle, found in a hollow tree near the Elfwood