A leather-bound volume with Elandria’s sunburst embossed in gold on the cover. The pages are edged in gilt, and illuminated letters begin each chapter.
Of all who have walked in the Light, eight souls burned so brightly that Elandria herself claimed them as Eternal Flames within her divine realm. These are the Saints—not demigods, but mortals whose devotion transcended death itself. Their stories guide the faithful, their relics protect the innocent, and their examples remind us that even the smallest light can hold back the endless dark.
Saint Andral, Patron of Mercy, was a healer in the age of the Red Plague. When no remedy could halt the sickness that swept through three kingdoms, Andral prayed for seven days and seven nights. On the eighth dawn, Elandria answered: she would grant him the power to cure the plague, but only by channeling her divine light through his own body. Andral accepted without hesitation. As he walked among the sick, golden fire poured from his hands, burning away disease and death—and burning away his own flesh in equal measure. By nightfall, the plague was ended, and Andral was ash. His bones, it is said, glowed for a century after. “Mercy,” he taught us, “is the courage to bear another’s suffering.”
Saint Calros, Patron of Truth, uncovered a conspiracy of shadow within the young Church itself—followers of Nytheris and Vaelith who sought to corrupt Elandria’s teachings from within. Rather than suppress this shameful truth to protect the Church’s reputation, Calros confessed everything before the assembled faithful. He was cast out into the Witchwood as a supposed traitor and never returned. In time, the Church recognized that his honesty had been its salvation, and Calros was canonized as the patron of those who speak truth even when it destroys them. His body has never been recovered. “Light reveals,” his teaching reminds us, “even when it shames.”
Saint Verenya, Patron of Inspiration, was an elven poet who claimed she could see Elandria’s light dancing in music itself. Her verses sparked a cultural renaissance that ended a century of war between rival kingdoms, as enemies found themselves weeping at the same songs. Legend holds that her final performance called forth an aurora that lasted a full week, visible across three continents. She died with a smile, her last words a melody no living voice has been able to reproduce. “To create,” she taught, “is to remember the Light.”
Saint Faenor, Patron of Guardianship, was a dwarven paladin who stood at the gates of the First Cathedral during the War of Shadows. For three days and three nights he fought without rest, his hammer blazing with holy fire, as wave after wave of darkness crashed against him. When the dawn of the fourth day finally broke, the enemy dissolved in Elandria’s light, and Faenor collapsed—not dead, but sleeping the sleep of the righteous. He awoke a week later, finished his breakfast, and returned to his post. “The dawn comes,” he taught, “only for those who stand through the night.”
Saint Miren, Patron of the Lost, was a halfling wanderer who dedicated her life to finding faith in the world’s darkest corners. She is said to have walked into the Void itself to rescue souls claimed by Taelkor’s whisper, returning with dozens who had been thought forever lost. She carried no weapon but a lantern, and feared nothing but leaving someone behind. “Even the smallest flame,” she taught, “drives back the endless dark.”
Saint Araleth, Patron of Justice, was a human judge in an age of tyranny. When ordered by a corrupt king to condemn innocent citizens, he instead exposed the crown’s crimes before the assembled court. He was executed that same day, but his final words became the Church’s motto: “Let the Light bear witness.” Within a year, the tyrant was overthrown, and Araleth’s scales became the symbol of fair judgment throughout the realm.
Saint Elyndra, Patron of Healing and Knowledge, was an elven sage who spent three centuries compiling The Tome of Gentle Radiance, the definitive text on the healing arts. She trained thousands of healers, asking nothing in return but that they pass her teachings on. Every hospital, every healer’s kit, every poultice applied to a wound exists because of her work. “To heal,” she taught, “is to understand.”
Saint Corvin, Patron of Vigilance, began his life as a knight of Orithon, devoted to law and order. A vision of Elandria’s light converted him, and he spent his remaining forty years guarding a sacred library containing texts too dangerous for the world. He never left his post, never slept more than an hour at a time, and turned away kings and gods alike who sought forbidden knowledge. When he finally closed his eyes for the last time, angels were said to have taken his place. “Guard the light,” he taught, “even when it blinds you.”
These are the Eight. May their examples guide us.
—Compiled by the Order of the Kindled, Year 892