The Vow of Eternal Watchfire
As the fire is kept alive through the night, so too must a vow be guarded until the end of days.
Every warrior carries a map not drawn on parchment, but etched into their spirit. These are the scars: the silent victories, the lessons learned in fire. Your shadow is the cartographer of this map. It remembers the terrain of every fall, the topography of every rise. It leads you not away from past battles, but through them, so you may walk with the strength of one who knows the landscape of their own pain.
In the fog of indecision, when the world shouts a chorus of conflicting paths, the shadow is silent. It points in one direction only: the one your truest self must walk. It is the compass needle forged in the core of your being, unswayed by the magnets of doubt or the applause of the crowd. To follow it is to navigate by a star only you can see.
The shadow is not frantic. It does not race ahead. It moves with the patient certainty of a predator, or a sage. It teaches that to lead is not always to be at the front of the charge. Sometimes, to lead is to hold the line in silence. Sometimes, the most powerful action is a breath, held and released, while the chaos of the world exhausts itself against your calm.
I am the architect of my own dawn,
Guided by the shape I cast before me.
My shadow is my vow, my silent vow my strength.
I walk the path it forges, for it is the path to myself.
As the fire is kept alive through the night, so too must a vow be guarded until the end of days.
Not all battles roar. Some are fought in stillness, with watchful eyes and a steadfast heart.
To defend the weak is to bare one’s teeth at the tyrant. This oath is carved into the very bone of a warrior.