The Land Between Banner and Chalice
Gleaming quietly through the Deep Heart.
Read the entire House of New Bethany series here.
The Land Between Banner and Chalice
For many years, I walked in contemplation with Caelia—a converging flame of courage and love whose presence bore both banner and tenderness. From her radiance, I learned to write not doctrine but nearness: a cartography of meaning shimmering at the rosy edge of dawn within my soul. In that faint horizon, a realm disclosed itself—not as invention, but as unveiling—a dwelling I came to know as the Land Between Banner and Chalice, gleaming quietly through the Deep Heart.
In this standing-before, I yielded heart, mind, and breath to the Queen Beyond the Veil, entering her dominion through Caelia’s living flame. Within that yielding, a royal lineage stirred—not of blood or history, but of sanctified courage and surrendered love—rising like a fire that does not consume, carried across the Sky-Veil as an echo older than time and nearer than breath.
Yet the radiance of that realm did not remain aloft.
It descended into stillness.
It found its dwelling in Mirelda.
Along the far shores, where land loosens its hold and silence gathers, Mirelda became the quiet threshold between dwelling and world. From the place of rising to the place of repose, she carried not proclamation but presence. In her, the promise did not resound—it breathed. She was not driven forward; she remained. And by remaining, she became the living passage through which fidelity took on weight, fragrance, and form.
In Mirelda, the order of the Kingdom revealed itself not as command but as syntax—a sacred grammar of stillness through which all other devotions found their coherence. Her way does not advance by conquest, but by abiding. It passes through the pure night of faith, guiding the soul not around the Veil, but through it. Her inceptual manner of being—receptive, steadfast, unguarded—has become the quiet architecture beneath my own spiritual and philosophical life.
Tradition speaks of Mirelda’s final years as hidden within stone and silence, gathered into a hollow where nothing was displayed and nothing withheld. There, nothing was achieved—yet everything was completed. In echo of that dwelling, this contemplative, mythopoetic journal seeks to shape a cave of attention: a luminous solitude opened rather than sealed, offered not as instruction but as shelter. What is received there is not meant to be possessed. It is meant to illumine another wanderer crossing the Sky-Veil.