Embers of Devotion: A Whisper from the Sacred Flame

The forge in Moonveil Hollow is never truly dark. Even in the quietest hours, long after the last spell has been woven into silver and smoke, the embers glow beneath the iron grating, pulsing like a slow heartbeat. Tonight, they burn a little brighter, stirred by unseen hands, as I prepare an offering.

I move through my studio, the scent of maple, moss, and smoldering embers curling through the air like a half-formed spell. The walls are lined with flickering lanterns, their light bending in strange and knowing ways, as if the very shadows listen. I am not alone here—not really. Brigid’s presence lingers in every warm breath of this space, in the hum of whispered prayers woven into each hand-dipped cone, in the waiting silence just before the flame takes hold.

Tonight, I honor her.

A jar of Embers of Devotion sits before me, the incense cones rich with the scent of hearth and woodland, of sacred spaces and whispered offerings. I take one and set it gently into the brass dish at my altar. The tip catches with a slow, glowing ember, and as I breathe, the first ribbons of smoke rise, carrying my devotion skyward.

Brigid, Keeper of the Flame,
Forge this heart anew.
Let my hands craft with purpose,
Let my words burn with truth.

The air thickens, rich and warm, and for a moment, I swear I hear the distant ring of a hammer against metal, the echo of a voice speaking in a language older than time. The scent shifts, wrapping around me like a cloak of embers. I breathe it in, and the hollow itself seems to exhale with me.

This is what Embers of Devotion was made for—not just scent, not just ritual, but presence. It is a prayer sent up in smoke, a whispered vow carried to the flame that never dies. It is the breath of the forge, the hush of a candlelit altar, the promise that no matter how deep the winter, the fire will always return.

So, when you burn this incense, do so with reverence. Light it in the hush of early morning, in the glow of twilight, or in the deep silence of midnight when the world listens best. Let the smoke rise, let the warmth touch your spirit, and know that Brigid watches.

The embers still burn. The fire is never truly gone.

And in Moonveil Hollow, where the lanterns never quite flicker out, the flame will always find its way home.

— Willow Moonveil

*Willow Moonveil is the keeper of the forge in Moonveil Hollow, an alternate dimension/mythical place where embers never truly die and magic lingers in every wisp of smoke. In this universe and time, I go by Leah, creator of Sulphur Springs Silver & The Hidden Thistle. So when you see a post written by Willow Moonveil, know that it should be considered The Hidden Thistle Lore.*

Shop the Embers of Devotion Incense here.