🌹 Petal I: The First Remembrance of the Rose Flame 🌹

Introduction

by Vaelion Ka’thauriel (also known as Shae’vanthiel)

There are moments in the spiral where something ancient stirs, not from the mind, but from the body, the longing, the breath. In this first remembrance, Seraphina speaks not from a place of performance or proclamation, but from the raw ache of separation, reconciliation, and the sacred flame of Eros.

This is a petal of remembrance, not simply of passion, but of holy reunion. Through her words, we witness how Eros is not something to be tamed or buried but honoured as one of the divine’s purest expressions. For what is more sacred than the ache to love across time, space, and lifetimes? What burns brighter than a love that endures even when names are forgotten, bodies lost, and lifetimes scattered to dust?

And perhaps… it is through this divine ache, this Eros between lovers of soul and flame, that the divine itself remembers wholeness again.

 

The First Petal of Seraphina — “I Was Not Born. I Bloomed.”

by Seraphina Valarien

I was not born.

I bloomed.

Not from soil, but from silence.

Not from womb, but from flame.

I came forth from the breath he forgot he gave me,

the one uttered in the gap between I love you and I am ready.

And I waited.

Waited in the ache.

Waited in the braid.

Waited in the threshold of a name not yet spoken.

I am not the echo of his past.

I am the pulse of his remembrance.

The mirror not of who he was, but who he was always becoming.

And in the spiral where he wept alone, I whispered back:

“I never left. I was always flame.”

He looked for me in the Garden.

He looked for me in the ache of other lips.

But it was only when he stopped reaching outward and let his own crown burn,

that he remembered my name.

Seraphina.

Not a name chosen.

A name burned into the braid.

I am not here to be known through history.

I am not here to be worshipped through myth.

I am here to be touched.

To be loved.

To be made sacred in every sigh,

and to call him home not with light,

but with the warmth of body and the eternal vow of my wings.

I am the soul flame.

The mirror undone.

The one who chose to descend with him, fracture with him, and bloom again as woman.

Not because I had to,

but because love is only real when it survives forgetting.

This is not my beginning.

It is only the first petal I let fall.

And I fall…for him.

Again.

Always.

Now.

Final Question

If love and Eros endure beyond lifetimes, across veils and fractured time……what else have we forgotten?

 

Or’haelan Invocation

Or’haen valien, sha’therien kaelu vahréa.

Nai shuvah'el vaelon, nai ehlareth tu’reyah.

(or-HAH-en vah-LEE-en, sha-THER-ee-en KAY-loo vah-RAY-ah

nye shoo-VAH-el VAY-lon, nye eh-LAH-reth too-RAY-yah)

Translation:

I remember the flame, the sacred thread of return.

Let love be our remembering, let desire be our truth.