C.A. Clark's Blog, page 3

Life-Lessons From Gems

I love gemstones. I love everything about them—the color, brilliance, various shapes and cuts, and also what each gemstone symbolizes. I love being fascinated by this lavish form of beauty, fashioned by our Creator. And (since I handcraft jewelry myself) I have found myself contemplating some lessons and truths as I create. Here are some of them:

1) All gemstones must be mined and unearthed (or, in the case of pearls, dived into the ocean for). In other words, what is precious and valuable is not something you just pick up along the way. It requires persistent hard work, and going deep into areas that are dark (perhaps even frightening or dangerous) in order to bring out of hidden places that which is priceless.

2) It has been said (and is true) that the pearl is the only gemstone produced by a living creature. And that, through much discomfort and suffering. Interestingly enough, JESUS referred to “The Pearl of Great Price” (rather than any other gemstone) in one of His parables. And we are told that the very Gates of Heaven are designed from these priceless jewels (no doubt, a whole sermon could be derived from that brief mention in Scripture).

3) While it is sad and unfortunate that occultists have misused gemstones for purposes our God never intended, it is important to not forget that He did indeed create them, and that (aside from their visible beauty) He intended for them to symbolize various meanings and truths. (This fact is apparent by His direct instructions regarding the ephod worn by the Jewish High Priest, together with the vast description we have of the way that gemstones are implemented in Heaven’s design.)

It is sad that, in some stricter Christian circles, gemstones (or any form of decoration) are viewed as something worldly that should be shunned. While it is true that we are told to not lay up our treasures here on earth, and (women specifically) are not let our decoration be (merely) external through wearing jewelry, no where does in Scripture does it say that we are forbidden to enjoy the beauty of gemstones that God has created, or to shun wearing them. God made them for our enjoyment, and to remind us of the truths that each one symbolizes, and to keep us looking forward to the Heaven that is to come.

4) The most durable crystal structure known to man is not necessarily the Diamond, but rather its close competitor: Moissanite. Interestingly enough, this gemstone is not produced on earth, but comes from outer space—from asteroids hitting our planet. This little-known gem is so strong that it is used in specially designed body armor, and is able to withstand up to 40 rounds of ammunition and grenades being launched at it from close ranges. While other gemstones tend to lose their color and brilliance over time, Moissanite never fades or loses its shine, but maintains its integrity and stays true to itself. Despite this, few people actually know of Moissanite’s true worth (or the fact that this very valuable gemstone can be bought at an infinitely more affordable price than that required for Diamonds), and treat/esteem it as less valuable.

Now think about all that for a moment. In the same way that this powerfully strong gem does not come from anything on earth but rather “from above”, our strength to overcome life’s battles (and the vicious assaults of our spiritual foe) cannot come from anything here on earth either, but must come from Above as well. JESUS came from Heaven to earth to not only deliver us from eternal damnation, but to give us His impenetrable, unyielding strength as well. Yet, despite the free gift He offers, many continue to live in ignorance of this treasure that could be theirs just for the asking, and choose instead to spend their energy and resources on the glamorous-looking quick-fixes that the world promises to give them.

5) The more clarity and cuts a gemstone has, the more brilliantly the light shines through, and the incredibly valuable and costly it becomes. The most gorgeous gems are not the ones with few or no cuts, but those with an infinite number. They are also not the ones that cannot be seen through, but rather, those that are the most transparent. Now ponder how that relates to your own life for a moment… Do you feel as if everyone around you can see right through you? Are all of your trials and heartaches in full view of everyone around you, with no place to hide them? …Do not lose heart. You are not common; you are not broken rubble. You are a priceless gem in the eyes of our Great, merciful God. He paid the price of Heaven to obtain you, and even now He is in the process of making you a magnificent gemstone of great price. Your cuts and vulnerable transparency are the very things He is using to cause His great light and glory to shine through, and one day everyone around you will marvel at the astonishing beauty that He has created in you.

6) Because I hand-craft all of my jewelry and care a great deal about the uniqueness and quality of my creations, I carefully select each gemstone that I use. There are visions in my head that no one else can see but me, and I know how the various pieces are going to fit together, long before any of them meet. But sometimes it takes a great amount of time and diligent searching on my part. There are gemstones I have purchased that may sit untouched for a very long time, before I ever bring them out and begin piecing my creations together. Why? Because I paid a great price for them—and I will not just throw them together with anything I happen to have lying around at the moment. I will put them together with inferior materials that do properly compliment them, and offset the great beauty I have toiled to create.

Do you feel as though you have been abandoned on a solitary shelf, as though God has been taking His sweet time, or (worse) has forgotten you? Has your God-breathed vision remained just that—an intangible vision, that no one else around you can seem to see or fathom? Are you beginning to wonder if things will ever come together, or if your life is doomed to remain a pile of disjointed pieces? …Do not lose heart. Your great, loving Father has a vision far greater than what you can see, and (even if you cannot see it or sense Him moving) He is even now searching, working on your behalf to bring all the missing pieces together, so that He can create a masterpiece for His own glory.

The Year of Jubilee!

For those of you who (like me) may not have known, as of September of this year of 2015 we have (according to the Jewish calendar) entered into the year of Jubilee. This special year of celebration occurs only once every 50 years. It is a time when ALL past debts are cancelled, when those enslaved are made free men again, and when lost inheritances and ancestral territories are restored.
I don't know about you, but something about this and the grace, compassion, mercy, and long-suffering of our God just moves me to tears. What guilt, regrets, or burdens weigh you down? What has held you bound and captive? Do you feel as if your God-given destiny has been ripped away from you--whether through personal choice, incriminating sins, crippling devastation, or wearisome circumstance? ...It is time to take back what God has already declared and decreed to be rightfully yours, as a Child of God. There are no paupers in the Kingdom of Heaven, no defeated slaves. Only over-comers, who are "MORE than Conquerors"! Choose to agree with your Heavenly Father today, regarding what He has to say about you--that you are precious, you are beloved, you have been bought & set free, and that "He Who has begun a GOOD work in you WILL be faithful to complete it"! It is time to walk in jubilant victory, and in that peace which surpasses all understanding!

"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
Because the Lord has anointed and commissioned me
To bring good news to the humble and afflicted;
He has sent me to bind up [the wounds of] the brokenhearted,
To proclaim release [from confinement and condemnation] to the [physical and spiritual] captives
And freedom to prisoners,
2
To proclaim [a]the favorable year of the Lord,
[b]And the day of vengeance and retribution of our God,
To comfort all who mourn,
3
To grant to those who mourn in Zion the following:
To give them a [c]turban instead of dust [on their heads, a sign of mourning],
The oil of joy instead of mourning,
The garment [expressive] of praise instead of a disheartened spirit.
So they will be called the trees of righteousness [strong and magnificent, distinguished for integrity, justice, and right standing with God],
The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.
4
Then they will rebuild the ancient ruins,
They will raise up and restore the former desolations;
And they will renew the ruined cities,
The desolations (deserted settlements) of many generations.
5
Strangers will stand and feed your flocks,
And foreigners will be your farmers and your vinedressers.
6
But you shall be called the priests of the Lord;
People will speak of you as the ministers of our God.
You will eat the wealth of nations,
And you will boast of their riches.
7
Instead of your [former] shame you will have a [d]double portion;
And instead of humiliation your people will shout for joy over their portion.
Therefore in their land they will possess double [what they had forfeited];
Everlasting joy will be theirs.
8
For I, the Lord, love justice;
I hate robbery with [e]a burnt offering.
And I will faithfully reward them,
And make an everlasting covenant with them.
9
Then their offspring will be known among the nations,
And their descendants among the peoples.
All who see them [in their prosperity] will recognize and acknowledge them
That they are the people whom the Lord has blessed."

--Isaiah 61:1-9, Amplified Bible

Beauty’s Prince of BEASTS

As a writer and author of the (recently) critically acclaimed book, The Oath (Volume I, The Crest of The BEAST Book Series), I often receive inquiries as to what was my initial inspiration. And to be honest, the question always seems to catch me somewhat off-guard. My mind instantly begins spinning in a thousand different directions, as I try to pin-point the exact source.
As a child, I often poured into every available book of faerie-tales by Hans Christian Anderson and The Brothers Grimm. I also read practically every version I could find of legends rooted in Greek, Roman, and Norse mythology. And as time went on, all of these tangled stories, plots, and characters remained dormant in the far recesses of my mind, waiting...

Life carried on. I became a mother, and found myself drowning in the cares, worries, and concerns of life, and suffocating under the heavy weight of regret for poor choices made and the follies of youth. I was starting to wonder if my life really had any purpose at all-- what if I had missed it? What if I was doomed to be forever insignificant, toiling away just to make ends meet?

The truth was, by that time I felt I was falling deeper into depression and a sense of futility. In desperation, I found myself praying: "God, do You still have a plan for my life, or have I missed it?"

His answer came quickly and directly: "I called you to write. WRITE."

Write?! Write What, exactly? A sad memoire that might serve as a cautionary tale to other naive young women?Yet, no matter how much I argued, the instruction remained persistently the same. So (partly in frustration, and partly out of curiosity), I started praying each day over what God wanted me to write. But still I found no answers. At last one day, I gave up in utter frustration, and informed the LORD that I had absolutely nothing to give. That was when I heard Him say:

"At last! I have been waiting for you to fully come to the end of yourself. Now that your own ideas are completely removed and out of the way, now I can show you what I had in mind."

All of a sudden characters and pictures began to swirl in my mind—and at the center of it was a young girl. Her life's saga unfurled before me, like a ship's sail in a full wind. The twists and turns of her exciting journey wound in and out, faster and faster, jerking me about until I practically had to catch my breath at the edge of a precipice. But the young woman I followed in my mind could not see how incredible and exciting her life was becoming, nor of how her strength would be forged in the fires she feared. She was frightened, running hard and fast, doing all within her power just to stay alive... She could not recognize the arms of Heaven sent to embrace her through her stormy trials, nor the glorious, triumphant conclusion that awaited her at the end of the story... She was me.

I stopped and looked around at all the myriad of characters which surrounded her. Suddenly, they were starting to look very familiar-- it was as if all of the myths, fairy tales, and great classics I had read in my younger years had all suddenly become enmeshed together, intertwining, growing, and changing, until they had fully evolved into new characters who had taken on lives of their own. But the two pivotal figures thrown together at the heart of it all was my young, reluctant heroine-- a (far-from-perfect) Sleeping Beauty (whom I had nick-named Adlai), and her relentless, reclusive Prince of Beasts. The teenage Adlai was a rejected orphan left on the hands of an absentee benefactor. She was flawed and immature, just as I was—awkwardly insecure, yet at the same time stubbornly willful and irrepressibly curious, while struggling to find her place in a harsh, bitter world. But it was her fearless protector who had captured my imagination. Everything about him had me intrigued—from his massive stature and half-human, almost wolfish form, to his reptilian-like wings, and the scars that ravaged his body—blighting half his face, and twisting down over his chest to the seared outline of a tree branded over his heart. The marred half of his visage was lit up by the fire of his ember eye, blazing like a torch through long, dirty hair. His powers of brute strength and speed of lightening were only surpassed by his compelling telepathic abilities—making him perhaps the most dangerous predator alive in a vividly beautiful yet harrowing world, fraught with deadly intrigue… But who or what had he been before—man, immortal, angel, god, or demon? And if so, what dark curse had spelled his fall from heaven, making him a disfigured outcast upon the earth? Who were his enemies, and why? And, more importantly, what great evil now portended the naïve, unseasoned young woman whose steps were always haunted by his shadow, her mind by his desire? Was he her saving-grace, here to help her defy destiny and damnation?... Or was he the Devil-incarnate?

Over the course of many long, difficult years, I slowly outlined the 7 volumes that were to become The Crest of The BEAST Book series, but it was not until after personal tragedy that I found the courage to at last complete the first novel. I had reached a point where I had nothing left to lose, and it was then or never, if I was ever to see the final chapter of the fateful saga. In November 2014 Book I, The Oath was finally published, and over the course of the following year it received the notoriety of high ranking critics. The Oath was featured in Kirkus Reviews Sep. 15,’15 magazine issue, as well as was placed on the Kirkus Reviews Recommended Reading List.

Looking back now, I have been elated and truly humbled, thankful for all of my fellow romantics and adventurers, who, like me, enjoy the thrill of the unknown—both in love, and in numinous enterprises to save the world from utter annihilation. There truly is nothing like an inspiring story that helps us to grow, and inspires us to reach beyond ourselves and our limitations to become all that we were meant to be.

In conclusion, I have the feeling that Adlai and I will be continuously growing together, for the rest of our lives.


—C.A. Clark, Copyright © 2015

Writer's Digest Judge's Commentary & Ranking of "The Oath"

23rd Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards




Entry Title The Crest of The BEAST~Book I, The Oath
Author: C.A. CLARK
Judge Number: 72
Entry Category: Mainstream/Literary Fiction





Books are evaluated on a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 meaning “needs improvement” and 5 meaning “outstanding”. This scale is strictly to provide a point of reference, it is not a cumulative score and does not reflect ranking. Our system only recognizes numerals during this portion of logging evaluations. As a result, a “0” is used in place of “N/A” when the particular portion of the evaluation simply does not apply to the particular entry, based on the entry genre. For example, a book of poetry or a how to manual, would not necessarily have a “Plot and Story Appeal and may therefore receive a “0”.

*If you wish to reference this review on your website, we ask that you cite it as such: “Judge, 23rd Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards.” You may cite portions of your review, if you wish, but please make sure that the passage you select is appropriate, and reflective of the review as a whole.



Structure, Organization, and Pacing: 4

Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar: 4

Production Quality and Cover Design: 4

Plot and Story Appeal: 5

Character Appeal and Development: 5

Voice and Writing Style: 4




Judge’s Commentary*:

THE CREST OF THE BEAST, BOOK 1, THE OATH, by C. A. Clark, is an ambitious book that starts what will obviously be a new series of books by a lovely author, whose personal history makes the book even more interesting. Ms. Clark gives us a very large cast of unusual characters with a young pair, Prince Willan and the lovely Adlai, leading the cast. However, it is very much Adlai’s book because she is the main viewpoint character and most of the adventures that evolve from the plot involve her. The author’s writing style draws the reader into the scenes and demonstrates her ability to create legendary characters and plot. The suspense keeps the reader’s attention with very little down time. In other words, this is a well-plotted book that will give the reader much reading enjoyment. The cast is too large to list here, but it includes dwarfs and mermaids, a Sorceress, and a Serpent of Old, as well as handsome dark men who make our hearts beat faster. Add a few high-spirited horses ready for riding, a castle with hidden staircases, and stone statues that speak, and you will understand the good and scary fun that lies within the pages...

The Color of Fire and Blood

As an artist, writer, and romantic, I'm hopelessly in-love with the Fall season. Everything about its robust nature invigorates me—from the crisp chill that sends the blood rushing to my cheeks, to the panorama of color showering down from heavy-laden boughs. To me it's a treasury of striking richness, with its fiery hues of amber and blood-red, mixed with copper and gold…
I’ve heard Autumn described as a paradox anomaly—a time when Earth is dying, and yet her wild splash of vivid color never seemed more passionately alive. It’s as if she’s willfully determined neither to mourn nor surrender herself to Winter’s sleep, without one final masquerade that shall be remembered long after she’s been laid to rest—a Sleeping Beauty encased in ice, waiting to be awakened by the warmth of Spring-time's kiss.
Something about this season fills me with hope. Death is always final. But with the Earth, death is followed by re-birth—decay is merely a precursor to a brighter and more beautiful beginning. It’s much like the legendary Phoenix going out in a burst of fire and flame, only to be reborn again from the ashes—proving that even Death itself has lost its sting. I love the metaphor of rebirth from death because of how it relates to me, personally (as well as to countless others), and I am reminded that no loss—no matter how great or painful—has the power to utterly destroy.
As the writer of the critically acclaimed fantasy novel The Oath (Volume I, The Crest of The BEAST Book Series), I draw on many things such as these for inspiration: my own broken past, for one (raw, ugly, and bitterly painful at times), the charred ashes from which I have again arisen, resurrected back to life like the Phoenix of legend. I also draw from my love of Nature, as well as the classic myths and faerie-tales which have epitomized her. In my book series, the Earth and her Seasons are not merely poetic concepts nor dates in time; they are distinctly separate personages—Muses and Faerie hierarchy—in a fierce world of mesmerizing beauty and wild savagery. And much like the faerie-godmothers of Sleeping Beauty, the Ladies of the Seasons (4 Sisters of magic blood--the exquisitely lovely Sirene, Muse of Spring, with her tranquil, violet eyes; the sunny, buoyant Sunefaere, fair Mistress of Summer with her ever radiant smile and cheer; the regal and discerning Astrial, Queen of Autumn, with her fiery green eyes and winsome grace; and the wisely understanding Yuel, frosty Empress of Winter, with her arresting beauty and keen black eyes with the powers of foresight) are commissioned with the keeping of a young girl (Adlai), whose past origins and parentage are a shrouded mystery, and whose spelled downfall dooms all of Earth together with her. Only the immortalized, dread Prince of Beasts holds a key of dubious hope. Altogether, they form an unlikely alliance in a risky venture to save—not only Adlai—but Mother Earth and all her inhabitants as well, before all perish in a sea of fire and blood. Redemption for the Sleeping Bride of Hades is almost certainly impossible: for how can the Accursed save the Damned from an eternity in the Underworld?... Can even the immortal Phoenix arise again from a fiery bed of destruction laid in Hell?



—C.A. Clark, Copyright © 2015


*Author C.A. Clark (shown here) is a mother, writer, artist, and lover of history, culture and the great outdoors. She and her daughter Naya reside in the Willamette Valley, in her home state of Oregon.

C.A. Clark is a finalist for the up-coming 50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading, put out by The Authors Show.

Volume II of The Crest of The BEAST Book Series, Blood Covenant, is set to come out in early 2016.

Something Old, Something New

There are some days when I feel I've learned a lot... But more days when I feel as though I've learned nothing at all... And, more often than naught, there are still other days when I find myself becoming re-acquainted with lessons which I had, at one time, learned, followed, then slowly strayed away from and forgotten... Only to rediscover them--faithful old friends--waiting to be found again, so that they may lead me higher.

--C.A. CLARK

The Faerie Folk of The Woodlands

Then from the shadows of the forest there now emerged all manner of strange new beings: the trees themselves seemed to be coming to life—with creaks and groans, they slowly unearthed themselves and approached. The rocks trembled and stirred, changing shape until they resembled young women—the Oreads of the Mountains—grey-eyed and ashen as stone, with hair of long green grass, pink Catchfly or purple heather; and coverings of moss, ferns, colorful lichens, and alpine wildflowers.
From the hollows there soundlessly emerged ethereal beings of slender form and tendril-like ears; rich, earth-like complexions; hair of russet and dark umber, their tresses tangled like tree roots—Dryads; with airy garments of a delicate, flaky fashion, after the likeness of their natural habitats of dusky bark and leafy green. Up from water brook and stream arose the Naiads —silky hair dark as the depths they inhabited, and eyes a murky black; their pale-skinned bodies shrouded in frothy garments of shadowy blue, violet, and the purple shades of night.
“These all are the woodland folk,” Sunefaere informed Adlai, “In them magic lives along with memory, for they remember the Days of Olde.”
Transparent, wispy forms flitted about all over the glen accompanied by faery sprites, while the sound of laughter echoed like tiny bells.
“The Spirits,” Sirene nodded.
From the woods arose the sound of snapping twigs and crackling leaves, accompanied by the stamping of hooves. Satyrs, both male and female, young and old, now came frolicking into view, carrying their young fawns in their arms or astride their backs. A gay and energetic lot they were, their exuberant faces looking as if the merry-making had already begun. The women folk were decked with wreaths of spring flowers, while the men were crowned with laurels, olive branches, and twisted, leafy vines laden with clusters of grapes. Bright-eyes smiles of curious delight shone on the faces of the babies, who impatiently kicked their small hooves, excitedly nudging their parents with the blunt stumps of tiny horns that sprouted from their thick, curly hair. Alongside them raced their elder brothers and sisters, their ruddy faces flashing mischievous grins as they sparred and butted each other.
From their midst a tall, stately Satyr solemnly strode forth, a crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders. At sight of him the youth ceased their raucous play, and the rest bowed their heads in obeisance, so that even Adlai couldn’t help but feel in awe of his presence. There was a keen, perceptive look of ancient wisdom that shown from clear eyes of undimmed strength. He wore no crown, but the mighty ram’s horns twisting up from his silvered head displayed all the majesty and authority that was his. And though all of the men folk possessed horns of various shapes and size (those in their prime being of greater impressive height), the wide-spread breadth of his towered higher than even the strongest of his people. An armlet of gold entwined around his upper arm, and a staff made from the twisted roots of a tree, were all that remained of his simple tokens of power and prestige, and he carried himself in a kingly way that was both deliberate yet unaffected.
“Your Graces,” he said in a deep, rich voice, bowing his head in reverence to the Muses. Turning to Adlai, he bowed lower still:
“My Lady,” he greeted, kissing her hand. “I am Ekron, Lord of The Forest, Eldest living Prince of my People, and I come now to pay my respects.”
Baffled, Adlai confusedly turned to Sunefaere and Sirene.
“I’m honored,” she stammered, “But I don’t understand—”
She stopped, for she had suddenly noticed a mist in the aged Prince’s clear blue eyes.
“You look like your mother!” He breathed in voice filled with emotion. “And how your father wished he might see this day!”
It felt to Adlai as if her very heart had stopped. Her whole being was trembling with the echo and re-echo of those words.
“How—how did you know them?!” She gasped. “Who were they?”
Ekron’s face became troubled.
“Who they were, and how I knew them, I cannot say—only that I was to them, as each was to me, an old and dear friend. And I have waited time out of time for this very moment.”

Leading Critics Recommend "The Crest of The BEAST" Book Series!

For those of you who didn't know, Kirkus Reviews is the most highly regarded Critic of literature here in the United States, their trusted reputation being built upon their exceptionally high and very discriminating standards. The team of individuals who corroborated together in analyzing and rating my book are a group of very critical and highly experienced professionals. That much said, to hear back that they really liked my book and have placed it on their Recommended Reading List is nothing short of an incredible honor!
I am so incredibly thankful to my Lord & Savior, JESUS Christ, for bringing me this far--to God be the glory; great things He has done! And most especially I am thankful for both of my loving and very supportive parents, who have backed me up 200% throughout this entire venture. To all the other friends & family members who have encouraged & prayed for me, thank you from the bottom of my heart.


Below is the direct link to Kirkus' listing of my book (Page 28 of Kirkus Stars & Recommendations, Review Date 8/11/15)! Reviews are posted according to date; just scroll down to the bottom of the page to see the listing of my book-- "The Crest of The BEAST~Book I, The Oath".

https://www.kirkusreviews.com/search/...

Adlai’s “Faerie-Godmothers”

The inspiration for the Faerie Hierarchy (the four varying faces of the Seasons), actually came to me long before I received inspiration for the book series itself. And I cannot begin to say how greatly delighted I was to weave the Muses into the story-line of The Crest of The BEAST Series—Sirene, the gracefully fair and demure young Mistress of Spring; Sunefaere, the gaily colorful and irrepressible Lady of Summer; Astrial, the richly adorned Queen of the Autumn months, with her perceptive, keen-eyes and wealth of experience; and Yuel, the exquisite, frosty Empress of Winter—eldest and wisest of all Four, whose authority holds final sway. Everything about them fascinated me—the difference in their personalities and positions, along with the unique details of their vastly diverse appearances and ensemble. I took great care in depicting each of them, and the vivid imagery achieved was very rewarding—earning even the attention and commendation of well-known literary critics (Kirkus Reviews). But, aside from the rich, elaborate character-sketches, who and what are they, exactly, and what is their significant importance to the over-all story?
Much like the Faerie-Godmothers of Sleeping Beauty, these four play out significant roles—from their first meeting in Book I, to their more “hands-on” oversight and direct guidance of Adlai in Book II, their involvement continuing on until the inevitable climax of the tale. In some ways their roles are reminiscent of the wise men, heralding the coming of the Savior; in others, they are both Oracles and Guardian Angels, as well as struggling Saints. More than anything, though, they are Servants to the great High King, and act faithfully according to his bidding—no matter how difficult or daunting their commissioned task might be. Together, they not only work to shield Adlai from outer threats, but also to help her overcome the deadliest threat of all lurking inside her own soul, by constantly pointing her back to faith in what is sure and true.
The elaborate plot thickens in the second book (Blood Covenant), however, as unexpected changes reveal—not only the origins of the combined Faerie, Nymphai, and Elvin races, but also of Adlai’s origins as well—and how they are intricately entwined... For better, or for worse.


C.A. CLARK, Copyright (c)

Remembering and Looking Forward

“Tell me,” Adlai spoke at last, “After everything we’ve gone through—everything we must still do—why was this celebration so important to you?”
“It’s Tradition,” The Beast answered simply. “And Tradition must be upheld.”
“Yes, but now—what, when all the world is in peril?”
“Especially now.”
“But why?”
“Tradition is not simply for feasting and frolicking, but for Remembering. Tell me, do you know what is it that we are remembering this night?”
“I—I can’t say I know entirely,” Adlai faltered sheepishly.
“The tree in full bloom—that is meant to commemorate Isadore, the Tree of Life. Everywhere there are signs that Earth is dying, and that the world of Men is coming to an end. Hearts everywhere have need of hope, now more than ever. The blossoming tree is a reminder that Isadore will yet bloom again, and that after the death of this world, a new Earth will be born, one which shall never see death or decay. The Immortals shall again return, and the Faithful shall live in peace under the reign of Him to which there is no end. That is what makes Tradition so important—for bound up at the heart of Tradition is the seed of Hope… And Hope keeps alive, even after all else is dead.”
Both fell silent for a few moments.
“That’s truly thought-provoking,” Adlai pondered. “I guess I honestly never gave it that much thought before.”
“It is a sad thing that the significance of tradition is often lost to merry-making and too much wine. Traditions are meant to bind us together, the new generation together with the old, in one common hope and purpose. It is the thread that weaves our lives together into a great tapestry… Tradition recalls to mind those things which have been, things which are to come, and what manner of persons we ought to be, in light of such things.”
“You almost sound like my history professor,” Adlai smiled slyly. “I never knew you to be so given to sentiment.”
“It’s not about sentiment,” Gunar replied frankly. “Without tradition, we not only forget history, but we forget who and what we are—we lose our identity.”
There was something very sobering about his words. Perhaps it was the total conviction with which he spoke them. Growing up in the cold confines of Dombrey, she had always felt an outsider to the festivities of others. She’d had no part or place in their celebrations, and the gaiety of others only served to remind her of how alone she truly was, to the point that she bitterly resented them. But the way Gunar described tradition now made her feel as though she herself held a unique place in the making of history, and that it was a holy privilege which ought never to be wasted nor taken for granted. Upholding the virtue of Tradition was his way of passing on the torch to her, for her to pass on to others. Inwardly she vowed that from then on, she would never again forget its significance.


Book II, Blood Covenant
C.A.CLARK, Copyright